Disclaimer & A/N: All things Twi belong to S. Meyer, still. That bitch.
This story belongs to me. Do not steal, not nice.
This story was written for Twisted4Twilight, as she bought my questionable talent on Fandom Gives Back. So this is what my head came up with from her prompt/idea.
Hope you enjoy it too!
(And thank you, my beta mycrookedsmile, I heart you so much.)
:: :: :: ::
Of Bets and Purrs
To err is human, to purr is feline.
-Robert Byrne
It took me two minutes to locate him at the end of the bar. He looked stressed tonight, sitting on a stool, his elbows on top of the bar and a glass of something hanging from his long fingers. There was a lit cigarette in his other hand, and by the way his blonde curls hung to cover much of his face, I could tell he'd had a bad day in one way or another.
Even the most persistent twinks were giving him a wide berth. They read his body language and decided against trying to get him to fuck them.
Good. It meant more for me.
Of course as soon as I stepped out of the shadow by the door, I was noticed. Making my way to the bar where Whitlock is moping, I kept my eyes deliberately on my goal, the bar. I was there to fuck, naturally, but this was my game and I chose how to play. Also, the rules were mine. I didn't particularly like it when someone changed them.
It was Whitlock who did, though. A year ago he moved to Seattle and became a regular at Caius'. Before that I had reigned for three whole years. I suppose I should have taken my cue and stepped down. Maybe gone to another club to find new guys to fuck. The problem was that I had fucked through most of the city and there were very few guys out there that hadn't felt the magic of Masen yet.
So I stayed, took one step back and watched. In a month he had plowed through half of the twinks who frequented the club, quite literally. It was fine by me, I wasn't usually into the twink scene, though some of them made for good fucks. He tended to pick the lithe, smaller boys who looked tiny next to his 6'2" form. It was funny, almost.
Nobody noticed me turning into a spectator for that month. They were concentrating on him too much. I know why, of course. He was tall, fit and not obnoxiously muscular like some of the other tops, sans myself naturally, were. The whole blonde thing suited him, especially because he had the most brilliant blue eyes I had ever seen.
The people who had seen him smile, not the little smile he flashed to the almost lucky ones, but a real wide smile, said that he had dimples to die for. I heard a twink whisper to his friend about how his eyes sparkled when he found something really funny and somehow it made me annoyed. In the club he was never that relaxed, so I hadn't seen him so much as grin.
I walked across the dancefloor and people made way. Sitting two seats from Whitlock, I saw the barman, Mike, place my usual drink on top of the bar. I nodded at Mike and took a sip of my scotch.
Lazily I turned my head to look at Whitlock. He really did look like shit, didn't he? There were shadows under his eyes and there was a glass of something, maybe Jägermeister, under his nose. I turned my head towards Mike and raised a brow, flicking my eyes towards Whitlock's glass. Understanding flickered in his eyes and he subtly raised three fingers.
Third drink? Jesus... The guy never drank more than two and even those usually took all night for him.
"So, what's got your panties in a twist?" I asked casually, looking at him quizzically.
At first he snorted, took a sip of his chosen poison and raised his eyes to meet mine. His were bloodshot, tired and somehow just plain wrong. This wasn't the man I was used to seeing in the club at least twice every week for the last year.
"None of your damn business, Masen," he drawled in a slightly hostile tone.
"Okay..." I said raising my free hand in a sign of surrender and lifted my glass with the other one.
After a sip of the scotch I decided to do something.
"Tell you what, you don't want to talk about it and God knows I'm not the perfect candidate to listen anyway, so how about I take your mind off what ever it is?" I asked and he glanced at me disbelievingly.
"You? Takin' my mind off this? It's not like you care so why the fuck would you bother?" he asked, his southern accent coming through like it did every time he was pissed off or just getting closer to being drunk. Probably both tonight. Yeah, the accent was just one of the things that worked for him and definitely not against him. The man couldn't be any hotter if he tried, which he didn't and that in turn made him even more hot. Fucking hell I had some serious competition...
"Because I'm bored and I can make it fun," I shrugged and turned on the stool so that I was leaning my elbow on the bar but my body was twisted towards him.
For a moment he seemed to hesitate, like he didn't want to have anything to do with me perhaps. Then he signed in a resigned way and looked at me for a moment.
"Fine," he said and then added, "but I won't agree to it before I know what it is."
"Okay, so we both know we've both fucked about every bottom in this club, right?" I asked and he nodded me to continue, "So, how about we have a contest? Pick say...five bottoms neither of us has fucked yet and the winner is the one who fucks all of them first." I suggested and saw his eyes narrow a little.
He was thinking about this and clearly concentrating on it too. Either the idea was appealing to him or he was just determined to not think about what ever bothered him.
"And who ever wins gets...what?" he asked and I sipped from my glass again to think.
I hadn't gotten that far with my plan. It needed to be something good. After all we were the best two tops in here, no matter how different we were.
Then it hit me and I smirked, turning my eyes to him.
"Oh, I so fucking hate that look..." Whitlock mumbled and shook his head.
"The one who gets through all five of them first gets to top the loser," I said and watched, with great satisfaction, as his eyes widened. Something flashed in them briefly before he could hide the reaction.
"No fucking way!" he said and shook his head, making his curls dance around his face.
"Why not? I mean seriously, it's not like either of us is a bad top and I don't plan on losing anyway..." I shrugged, seeing how annoyance flashed in his eyes.
See, I knew a few things about Whitlock. One, he was terribly competitive. It was like he thrived on any challenge he could get. Someone said he had been an athlete in his youth but had had to stop competing because of an injury. He had channeled it in a different way now, as I knew he was a lawyer, one of the top notch ones.
Two, he never bottomed. It was something he insisted on so strongly that he never even fucked the guys everyone knew would switch if needed. It was almost like he never wanted to risk getting into such a situation. For whatever reason, he was strictly a top and there was no question about it. Certainly getting to fuck him would be a great big notch on my bedpost. It would definitely get me on top of my game again, even if I had never truly faltered from my throne.
Usually nobody questions the tops. Nobody had asked me if I would bottom for them in...years I think. When Whitlock first appeared on the scene, he was thought to be a switch, just because there's this...air about him. He's all man and all that, but something about him just begged people to ask. Just in case they could get him, because let's face it, a new hottie is a new hottie and you just have to try that, right?
He turned everyone down, ending up snarling at one of the most persistent tops who tried to get to him for a few weeks. That was a no, then.
"Fine," he snapped, "but I get to decide who we include in the list and you get to change two if you so wish." He looked at me challengingly.
I briefly considered it. Then I went 'why the hell not' and nodded before turning to face the club.
"So...any ideas?" I asked and he looked around.
"I'd say... Eric, you haven't had him, right?" he asked and I shook my head in mild disgust.
"Not because I couldn't, it's because I don't want to." I said.
Whitlock chuckled. "Yeah, me neither but it's not supposed to be all fun, is it?" he asked and he did have a point.
"Jacob?" I asked and he nodded. Jake was a big, bulky native guy who was also very very selective. He was a bottom, but one that actually wanted the fresh meat, the new tops on the scene which neither of us really were anymore. He'd be a challenge.
"The new guy too...what's his name...Seth?" Whitlock asked.
"Yeah, works for me. He hasn't been around this week." Which was to say I hadn't fucked him yet. I would, eventually, so might as well add him to the list.
We were quiet for a while until I decided to push it a little. "How about...McCarty?" I asked and saw Whitlock wince.
Emmett McCarty wasn't my type, he was too boisterous, too jovial and easygoing. He was pretty much the all American jock type of guy with one extra perk, he was gay. Not my type at all. I could handle muscles but not the rest of him.
The reason I was including him was simple. He was a switch.
"Not all about fun and games, right? You know he's not my type and I know you don't do switches," I said and finally, after some thinking, Whitlock nodded.
"Okay then."
For some reason, for a brief moment, I felt a bit bad to have included McCarty. It was clearly something that didn't sit well with Whitlock and I was supposed to take his mind off shit, not add to the load.
"So that's Eric, Jake, Seth and McCarty. We need one more," he said and we used the next ten minutes contemplating who would be the fifth privileged victim on our little list. Either we didn't agree at all or we couldn't find a guy neither of us had fucked. It was tricky.
And then he walked in and I knew.
"Him," I said, nodding towards the door and Whitlock turned to look.
Suddenly his grin turned predatory and he licked his lips, a gesture I couldn't quite tear my eyes from.
"Fine by me," he said and turned to Mike.
"Write down this list and keep score, okay?" he asked and Mike nodded, not even ashamed by the fact that he had been eavesdropping to our conversation for most of its duration.
"Eric, Jake, Seth, Emmett and the newly single Paul, then?" Mike asked with an amused expression plastered to his vapid features.
"Yeah, works for me." I agreed and raised my glass to Whitlock, "Happy hunting."
Raising his own glass, Whitlock nodded his head a little bit and downed the rest of his drink.
Then he got off the stool and looked around before turning to look at me.
"Since I'm goin' to win, I'll be gracious and let you pick the position. After all, we all lose our man cherries just once," he winked and my eyes widened. How the hell did he know that? I thought no one knew I had never bottomed.
Somehow he did ,and before I could come up with a response, he was heading towards the table where Emmett was sitting.
Fucking hell...
I could tell why he picked Emmett first, though. He'd had more liquor than he usually did; liquid courage was a nice thing. But if he succeeded at this, I'd have to fuck one of the guys on the list tonight as well.
Paul was out of question tonight. He'd be the tricky one. Of course it would have been smart to try and get him immediately to 'get him out of the way', but I wasn't in the mood for too much hassle, after all I hadn't planned this so I wasn't prepared.
Paul was a tricky one. He was one of the most gorgeous bottoms in the club. There had been a minor problem during the years I had frequented this club though; he had been in a long term relationship with his boyfriend Sam.
See, Paul was one of those guys who wascompletely monogamous. It seemed silly to me, but you have to respect the rules people make for themselves, that's my rule. In fact, Paul and Sam had taken their monogamy to the extreme in some ways. Sam hated clubbing, so Paul came to the club about once a week and only once every month did Sam accompany him. Paul would dance, get merrily drunk and grind and do all the normal stuff, but he'd never kiss another guy, let alone do anything else.
They had broken up a couple of months ago and Paul was slowly getting back in the game. And boy was there game... There was a rapid line forming and he knew it; the problem, even for guys like me or Whitlock, was that he was extremely picky. So far there were reports of him fucking only two guys and that was it.
So no Paul tonight... Whitlock was making steady progress with Emmett at his table. The jock seemed to like the fact that he was the first known switch to be approached by Whitlock... Hell, who was the easiest on the list then?
"Only Eric, if you're going for an easy one. Seth's not in and Jacob is chatting with someone," Mike stated from behind the bar and I cringed. Who asked his opinion anyway?
He was right though, so I had to go there. Maybe it would be better to get this over with? Jesus fucking Christ...all the things a guy does not to have to bottom...
I looked around, found Eric and kept staring at him until he felt my eyes upon him. When he turned to look at me, I saw his eyes widen in disbelief. Then a slightly hesitant smile spread to his face. Jesus...at least I could do him from behind so I didn't have to look at him...
Very deliberately I looked at him and then glanced towards the hidden entrance to the back rooms and back at him.
The twink looked like a puppy who, instead of kicked, had been tickled in its favorite spot.
"Mark one down," I said to Mike over my shoulder and he chuckled in a very annoying, almost vulgar way.
:: :: :: ::
In the next week I was at the club more than ever before. I had two weeks off work which worked for me, as Whitlock was still working every day.
I had a head start, and soon it was just Paul left for me. From what Mike told me, Seth hadn't been around for Whitlock and Paul had been just as unavailable for the blonde as he had for me.
I was ahead in the game, so when I finally approached Paul one night I made sure I looked as good as possible. I wore my dark gray slacks and a green button up with rolled sleeves and my hair was the not-so-controlled mess it always was. There was a little bit of scruff on my jaw, something I had learned Paul liked on men while studying him.
Needing to be discreet, I waited most of the night until I spotted Paul going up the stairs to the second level of the club. I followed him and luckily he was alone in a quiet enough spot so there wouldn't be people to overhear us.
Like he had been waiting for me, his dancer's body turned towards me, his eyes following my every step. When I was next to him near the railing, he smirked at me.
"Well well, Masen... Took you a while," he said and grinned at me more openly.
His white tank top clung to his every muscle and the blue jeans he was wearing were torn in all the right places. The guy was stunning and knew it.
"Maybe so, but I'm here now and that's what makes all the difference, right?" I answered, tilting my head and flashing him my signature crooked grin.
"Yeah, about that..." he said and looked around before turning back towards me, "I know about your bet." There was a certain sort of mirth in his eyes.
"Oh..." I was speechless for once.
"Hey, it's not exactly rocket science you know. I also know I'm on the list and the last one, right?" he asked and I nodded, unable to deny the truth.
"I need to let you know it's not going to happen. Both you and Jasper are gorgeous, the two best looking tops in here. But frankly, I'm not interested in being a part of your petty little game," Paul said and when I was going to speak, he raised his hand and held a finger up to pretty much silence me. "Let me finish."
I nodded again and waited.
"Even if I wanted to, and I have to say I considered it briefly, I'd be hesitant. The decision was taken away from me the night before last, though. I'm back together with Sam now," he said and I cursed mentally.
"So...if I had acted sooner and you hadn't yet known about the list...?" I raised a brow at him.
"Oh, I know you're a great fuck. I might have taken the chance, after all there is that thing called Masen Magic, after all." Paul's smirk was teasing and I just shook my head and couldn't help but smile.
He wasn't wrong, I was a great fuck.
But now I was a great fuck with a problem. I looked down and saw the club pretty much as full as it got on Friday nights like this one.
"Hey, look," Paul said and nudged my shoulder as he pointed to the entrance to the back room. "Looks like it's a tie now, good luck with sorting it out." With those words he left me there to stare at Jasper who walked into the club area, looking very happy with himself. I saw Seth nod at him over his shoulder and it was no secret that yes, we were at a tie indeed.
What would we do? After all, knowing Whitlock, he was competitive enough to not let this end like this. So I did what I could and dug out my cell from my pocket. I had his number from the spring party we had thrown for Caius a few months before. He had helped me and some others to organize it.
Looks like a tie. We have a problem. Meet me at the corner outside in ten. -EM
In a few minutes I got the message back.
Fine.
Eloquent bastard, wasn't he?
By then I was already heading out and to the said corner. It was the closest street corner to the club and the easiest place to get a cab. That wasn't why I chose it, rather than it was not in the view of people exiting the club, at least not immediately.
I leaned on the wall of the building and waited for him. The summer night was cool and nice and since it was Friday, I knew he had probably nowhere to go tomorrow. We needed to figure this out and I supposed the club wasn't the best place when it was packed to the rafters.
I closed my eyes briefly, thinking about nothing in particular. Soon I could hear steps approaching and when I opened my eyes, there he was. For some reason he had dressed very casually tonight. He was wearing jeans and boots with a sleeveless t-shirt. He managed to look good even with that outfit, bastard.
"So, what's up?" he asked, digging out his cigarettes from his pocket and I frowned, not being a fan of smoke.
"Well... We have a problem. Paul knows about the list," I said and Whitlock gawked at me, "no no, I didn't tell him. He found out in some other way. The real problem is that he's back with Sam."
"Oh...hmm..." he said and lit his Marlboro thoughtfully. He did blow the smoke away from me, which was a huge plus. I didn't mind the taste but I didn't like to inhale the smoke as I wasn't a smoker myself.
"Yeah..." I sighed and rolled my shoulders as I stepped away from the wall.
"We need to figure this out. I need a drink," he said and looked at me like he was considering something. "My place is a few blocks from here."
"Is that your way of inviting me over, the whole 'your place or mine' thing without giving me an option?" I said in a taunting tone but he didn't bite.
"Comin'?" he asked, turning to walk in the direction that he lived.
"Not yet..." I muttered behind him as I began to walk. I needed a drink too and frankly my pride wouldn't take this for long. I needed to know how to go forward from this and I needed to know now.
We'd gone about three blocks when he stopped in front of an old yellow building. It was one of those old buildings that were tended to with great care. He let us into the hallway and we walked up some steps.
"No elevator, the building can't be modified enough for one, it's protected," he explained.
We walked up the stairs and then another story before he led me down a hall and opened a door.
I had to admit I was curious to see how he lived. So when he flicked the lights on, I gasped a little before I could school my reactions.
The place was amazing; all high ceilings and arched doorways with big windows and deep windowsills...it was just perfect. Suddenly I wasn't so in love with my own, modern bachelor pad anymore.
"Johnny, where are you?" he called out and suddenly a black and white ball of fur ran to us from around the corner.
The cat was a long-haired one, clearly an adult and it was so pleased to see Whitlock I had to smile.
"This is my man, Johnny," he said and looked at me while scooping up the cat, "Johnny, this is Edward Masen."
I reached a finger for the cat to sniff and it seemed to ponder about me for a while before brushing its cheek against my hand.
"Impressive, Edward. He doesn't usually like people," Whitlock said in a tone that was slightly in awe.
Realizing he had used my first name, twice, made me feel a bit weird, so I masked it in my usual style.
"Maybe he's a bottom then?" I asked and Whitlock snorted a bit before kicking his boots off by the door and walking to the kitchen, the cat now perched on his shoulder like a strange of accessory.
I kicked my loafers off too and then followed them into the kitchen. Whitlock handed me a bottle of water before taking two glasses from a glass cabinet in the kitchen.
"Laphroaig fine by you?" he asked and I shrugged, walking after him to the living room area.
He gestured for me to sit and leaned forward next to the couch to let the cat down on the back of it on his way to the liquor cabinet. He picked up a bottle while I sat on one end of the very comfortable leather couch. I was usually not fond of leather couches but this was really nice. It was deep enough to sleep in, most likely, and the leather had that slightly worn quality I liked.
When I told him as much, he grinned. "Thanks, I had to drag it back here when I saw it in Texas a few months back. My momma knows all the best antiques-dealers and one had this. It's actually from the sixties or somethin', so not really antique but hell if it ain't comfortable." The smile I saw next, as he was sitting down, was the one I'd only heard of before.
It lit up his features and made his eyes sparkle. The dimples...I wanted to drown in them.
In two seconds flat I wanted to beat myself with a baseball bat for going all teenaged girl-ey because of someone like Whitlock. He was another top, exclusively top at that, and there was no reason to begin to crush on him.
He handed me my drink and took a sip of his own, making a content sound. Then he propped his feet on the wooden table and I realized the table was actually an old door.
"That one I made myself."
"Impressive." I admitted, being one to give credit when it was due. I had no talent in crafts, but give me a piano and a few hours and I'll have a song for you. Might not be a good one, but a song nonetheless.
Whitlock grinned a bit, mumbled thanks and closed his eyes for a bit. His legs were long and the way he was sitting, stretched out on the couch, I could see a tiny sliver of skin between his jeans and t-shirt.
I quickly tossed back most of my drink and reached for the bottle to pour another.
"So...this problem of ours..." he began after a while and shifted so that his head wasn't tilted back anymore. Instead he was looking at me with a raised brow.
"I don't know what to do. All I know is that you won't want to give up," I stated.
"That's true. A bet is a bet," he said imploringly and somehow it made me feel a bit odd, like I was all twitchy and shit suddenly.
To relax a bit I got up and walked to his bookshelf. Another thing that was very masculine, made of old wood without being too heavy. He seemed to prefer wood and leather in his furnishings; at least there were no cowhide prints anywhere.
I spotted a few pictures on the shelf and walked closer. There was a farmhouse in one, a frontal view of the house I assumed was his childhood home. In another picture there was a ten or so years younger version of him and a girl with long blonde hair. She looked a lot like him.
"My twin sister, Rosalie," he said when he noticed me looking at the photos.
The third picture was of three adolescent boys, maybe seventeen years old.
Whitlock with a boy with blonde hair and a boy with black hair.
"Me, my cousin Riley and our friend Peter," he explained and I nodded, "Peter...he died the day before we made this bet."
I was surprised he told me this, but the tone of his voice was somehow so heartbreaking it tugged at something inside me. Like somehow I needed to do something to make it better for him. Nobody deserved to be so...down-trodden.
When I turned to look at him, I noticed him pouring another drink for himself, tossing all of it back and then pouring another one. Somehow I had a feeling he hadn't really grieved yet
I made my way back to the couch and sat down; the cat was looking at him worriedly and went to curl on his lap.
"You want to talk about it?" I asked, not really knowing if I wanted to talk about it.
At first he snorted a bit, having closed his eyes again. He breathed for a while before sighing and opening his sad blue eyes to look at me.
"Really?" he asked and I found myself nodding. "Okay... I suppose..."
Then he went quiet and we sat in silence for a while, until he began to speak like he was reliving the past, which he probably was.
"I was ten, Riley was eight and Peter was eleven when we met. Peter's family moved to the town where we were from and because Peter had been movin' around a bit, he came to my class to catch up to the other kids. We became friends; Riley was always followin' us around but we didn't care. He was safer with us than his slut of a mom, Vicky, anyway. She was a terrible excuse for a mom and my own mom really looked after Rile more than she ever did...
"Anyway, we were best friends until Peter turned eighteen. That was when he came out to us. It was weird, because I had never thought about such things and...well...the only more permanent step dad Riley ever had, this asshole named James, was a bigot and a racist and a homophobe...if he could find something in people to hate, he would.
"For some reason Riley looked up to him and had adopted some of his beliefs..." Whitlock took a sip of his drink while absentmindedly rubbing the cat behind its ears. Johnny was purring and I idly thought that he wasn't the first guy Whitlock had made purr, I was sure of it.
"So Riley pretty much shunned Peter. With the wisdom of a sixteen year old kid he decided that Peter shouldn't be our friend anymore. The thing he didn't count on was that I wasn't going to abandon Peter. Riley accused me of betraying him, said that blood should be thicker than water and that I was pretty much abandonin' him for some faggot who would just rape me and..." he shook his head angrily and I couldn't help but to make a disgusted sound.
"Yeah...so pretty much that ruined our friendship. From that moment on I was Peter's friend and Riley kinda faded into the background. That picture was taken a few days before Peter came out."
He took a break from telling the story and drank a bit more; I assumed he was trying to figure out what order to tell things in.
"Eventually we went to college. That's where I began to experiment with my sexuality. I figured out I was gay like Peter and of course Riley never spoke to either of us after that; at least until that point he had talked to me occasionally when we met at family occasions and whatnot.
"About five years ago Peter called me from Boston where he lived and told me he had found out he was HIV positive. He had been tested regularly like I have and apparently it was a random hook up with someone who was supposed to be clean, who had 'just been tested' or so he had claimed..." Whitlock snorted bitterly. All gay men knew these stories all too well.
"For some reason the cocktail they put him on didn't work but they wanted to wait and see if it would. By then Peter was getting weak and was sick a lot... I often flew to see him, I was livin' in Houston before I came here," he gestured around us, "and then about six months ago when they finally thought his latest meds were working, he suddenly got a pneumonia. And it never went away. Of course he was weak already but..." his voice got more and more quiet and then he just sat there quietly.
"He died on a Tuesday; it was that Wednesday you found me sulking at Caius'." He tossed back his drink and placed the glass on the table, maneuvering around the cat who didn't seem to mind.
"I'm so sorry..." I began but he looked at me sharply.
"That's not all. He died Tuesday mornin' and I got an email that evening from Riley." I could see his eyes flashing with such hatred I felt my skin crawl even if it wasn't directed at me.
"His message was, 'You're next.' and nothin' else."
And just like that, the rage and fight left him. He broke down in front of my eyes and after the story he just told me, I wasn't surprised. What surprised me was my own reaction. I scooted closer to the crying man and wrapped my arms around him awkwardly, minding the cat.
He cried for a long time. I leaned my cheek on the top of his head and just held him. I had one arm around his shoulders and my other hand rested on his lap around the cat. Johnny was purring again because I was scratching him gently.
Eventually the crying slowed down to occasional sobbing and then finally quieted all together. I realized I hadn't felt uncomfortable at all while holding someone I hardly knew. It just felt good to be there for him somehow.
"Peter...he was the...the only person who really knows why I don't bottom..."
The words were so quiet I almost didn't catch them. When I did, I know I froze for a moment.
"You don't have to..."
"No...I think...I think you should know," he breathed and I nodded so that he could feel it from where he was still resting against my shoulder.
"I was twenty-one. Finally figuring things out and...one night we were at this party, Peter and me... We... I suppose we got a bit too drunk and all that. He hooked up with one of the guys hosting the party and I was left alone. He blamed himself for that...for a long time..."
Somehow my hand had moved from Johnny to his master's hair. I was now petting the blonde curls instead of the black and white fur.
"I...I went home with the wrong guy that night. He was this...tall and fit jock kind of guy...he...he didn't like it when I changed my mind..." he took in a deep, trembling breath and I understood what he was telling me.
This time it was my own rage that surged through me like electric current. I heard myself growl and the cat looked at me in awe – I bet he hadn't heard that sound from a human before.
"It's okay, Edward, it's long gone and over with..." Whitlock, Jasper, raised his head to look at me worriedly.
"I swear I'd kill the bastard if I could get my hands on him..." I pretty much growled the words and suddenly Jasper's hands were on my face as he tried to get me to concentrate on him.
"Look at me, Edward! It's ancient history now! Please calm down I...I don't..." and there was suddenly a tiny hint of fear in his eyes. I was another guy almost his size, I was a known top, a guy he'd usually never take home and I was scaring him.
"Oh my God I'm so sorry..." I gasped, ashamed of my behavior and the cat got to its feet and jumped off Jasper's lap when I wrapped my arms around the man beside me.
We sat there in silence, again. This time we held each other as we tried to get over the emotions surging through us both.
"I've never bottomed..." I said quietly after a while, but made no effort to disentangle myself from him. I knew that I couldn't speak of this to him if I had to look at him.
"I...I'm over thirty now, Jasper...I'm still hung up on the gender roles my father so sternly taught us kids... He nearly disowned me when he found out I was gay. It was like...like that's the last frontier, the last thing I can hang on to...
"Almost like...like if I never bottom, I'm not as bad as my father thinks. Not as much of a sinner or as much of a lost cause..."
I felt Jasper's fingers beginning to stroke my back slowly.
"I'm old...you know that. Too old to be in the scene like I am...but I know if I settled down...if that were a possibility for me... I would have to take that man home to meet my parents and...I can't take some twinky bottom with me either." I snorted bitterly. Jasper hummed as if he understood what I meant.
He squeezed me a little and let go. I leaned back a little, the embarrassment beginning to nag at the edges of my mind.
"Don't...just don't make this wrong somehow. I...I've never told anyone those things. Don't make me regret I told you." Jasper looked at me seriously and suddenly the embarrassment faded away.
Instead I smiled. It wasn't the fake crooked smile I used to charm the pants off guys I wanted to fuck. It was a genuine smile that was just for him.
And then he smiled at me again. I had never seen anyone so perfect before. Suddenly it made no difference who we were in the pecking order of the club. I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to know Jasper, not Whitlock.
"Would...would you stay?" he asked and I blinked. "I mean to sleep, really sleep, next to me? I...I have all these flashbacks from the past...and I miss Peter so much right now..." he said and looked down at his hands, somehow withdrawing himself from the situation a little.
"Hey, none of that now either. Of course I'll stay. Hell, I made you spill your guts, I won't abandon you," I said and grabbed our water bottles I had carried to the living room. I handed Jasper his and took a few gulps of mine.
"We better put the Laphroaig away," he said after downing most of his water.
My shirt was still a bit moist from where he had cried against my chest.
"Shit, I ruined your shirt, didn't I?" he asked and chuckled a bit sheepishly.
"Meh, who cares. You needed to unload and I was here for it. And you can always owe me a shirt." I shrugged and got up.
"I think we need showers. I'll find you a towel and some clean sleep pants you can borrow. It's the second door on the left down the hall," he gestured towards the hall.
When I got to the bathroom I stripped the shirt off and tossed it to the hamper. Jasper could try to wash it if he wanted to. I was opening the fly of my slacks when he came in to the bathroom.
"Here. I didn't know if you sleep with a tshirt on so I didn't bring one yet," he said and then his eyes caught what I was doing and he swallowed before blushing a little.
"I'll be..." he mumbled adorably and pretty much fled the bathroom.
For a moment I stared after him, grinning a little, and then I caught myself thinking about Jasper Whitlock being adorable. Yeah...I was totally losing it, wasn't I?
After stripping, I got into the shower and washed the dried tears off my chest and the smell of the club off my hair and skin off. The shampoo had a mild coffee scent to it which was interesting. I realized that was what Jasper's hair had smelled of when I held him. I really liked it, especially when it mingled with his own natural scent.
Again I wanted to bang my head on the wall. I was telling myself I was here because of a favor for him. After someone confides in you, breaks down and you hold them to keep them somewhat together, you don't just bail.
We weren't friends, we were rivals. Besides there was the bet still to be discussed...
Sighing, I turned off the water and stepped out to dry myself before pulling on the sleep pants Jasper had left for me.
I dried my hair the best I could with the towel and then ran my fingers through it before hanging the towel on the rack on the wall. Taking a deep breath, I walked to his bedroom. I could collect my slacks from the chair in the bathroom in the morning.
Again, he looked at me; his eyes roamed my body quite shamelessly before he could stop himself. I couldn't really blame him, I kept in shape and, well, this was his bedroom. Of course he would ogle at a half naked man here.
"Your turn."
My words snapped him out of it and he pretty much escaped the room to go take a shower himself.
I chuckled. I couldn't help it. There was something so sweet about his... Oh for fuck's sake now!
I picked the side of the bed that he didn't seem to use and went to lie down, propping myself against the headboard. After a moment of quiet Johnny ran into the room and jumped on the bed. He walked to the middle of it and parked his butt there before looking at me quizzically.
"I made your daddy cry. I am staying so he doesn't smother you with hugs during the night," I said and he seemed to consider my words.
Then he got up again and walked up the bed, settling down on the pillow in the middle and fell asleep like someone had flicked a switch.
I was looking around the room when Jasper walked in. He was wearing blue boxers and a white undershirt that was thin and tight enough not to leave much to the imagination. Hell if he wasn't good looking...
Tearing my eyes from him I turned to pet the cat. "He just passed out."
"So it seems..." Jasper walked closer to the bed, "you know I was half expectin' him to attack and claw you because you're on his side of the bed." His grin was cheeky.
"Hey...that's not very nice, you know..." I scolded him and he just grinned, getting under the covers.
I followed suit and Jasper turned the bedside table lamp off.
"Night and...thanks," he said quietly.
"Night, you too."
:: :: :: ::
In the morning I woke up to two things I didn't usually experience in the morning. The first clue that I wasn't at home was the purring from next to my ear. When I opened my eyes I spotted Johnny sleeping next to my head on the same pillow. He looked at me sleepily and then reached a paw to pat my cheek with it. Strange animal...
The next thing was a warm body around mine. At some point during the night we had shifted so that Jasper was now spooning against me. His arm was around my waist and I could feel his breath against my shoulder blade.
It was a foreign feeling because I almost never let anyone sleep over. Even if I took them home to fuck, I wasn't interested in the cuddling or the morning after where I tried to appear as if I cared about their walk of shame. I didn't.
This though, waking up between Jasper and Johnny, it was sort of nice. It felt like...like home, somehow. Maybe I really was getting old when a thought like that didn't freak me out. I was pretty sure this was actually the first time ever I was sleeping next to a guy I hadn't fucked. In fact this was the first time I wasn't considering fucking the guy I was in bed with.
This time... I was actually considering letting the guy fuck me if it came to that.
When did I come to care about Jasper Whitlock?
Maybe it was tonight or maybe, on some level, it was when I saw him so depressed at the bar the night when we made the bet.
I'd respected for him since he started coming to the club and the word on him began to spread. I knew what he did for a living long before I knew he could pick up any guy he wanted, just like I could. That side of him had very little to do with why I found myself liking Jasper this morning.
He had shown me he had compassion, that he could choose a friend over family when his own blood was wrong. He could be vulnerable before someone and that, in my opinion, was more manly than any so-called macho thing. Breaking down and allowing himself to be comforted was a big deal.
And hell, maybe some part of this was about Johnny too. Cats choose their people carefully. A cat wouldn't get attached to a bad person. Yeah, I totally think the James Bond villains had drugged their cats.
Jasper shifted and began to stir. That's when I felt his morning wood against my ass and surprised myself once again. I didn't freak out; instead I leaned back a little. The action caused Jasper to groan and he opened his eyes.
"Oh...hmm...this is...peculiar..." he said in a sleepy southern drawl.
"I'd say so..." I answered and stretched my legs a little, making Jasper let out a sound when my ass moved against his cock.
"Let's get...coffee...the cat needs to be fed..." he mumbled and rolled away from me.
Part of me was relieved, another part was disappointed. I knew, logically, that I wasn't ready to have my cherry popped and that we had things to discuss, but still.
Jasper went to the bathroom and I looked at Johnny. "Okay then, show me where your kibbles are."
The cat jumped off the bed and trotted to the kitchen, stopping before it exited the hall to look over its shoulder. "I'm coming, hold your horses..." I mumbled and walked with slightly unsteady morning feet to the kitchen.
It was strange to be in someone else's kitchen. Luckily Johnny showed me where the food was kept and after dumping some kibble to his bowl I found where the coffee was and started the coffee maker.
That's when Jasper walked in. He hadn't put any more clothes on and looked surprised to see me being so domestic in his kitchen.
"What? He showed me where his food was." I pointed at the cat.
Jasper grinned and walked to me. Before I had time to realize, I was pressed against the counter and his arms were around me.
"I kinda like you, Masen," he said with that smile I was suddenly thinking of as mine. A smile I didn't want anyone else to see again. At least I wanted to be the cause of that smile as often as possible.
"Hmm...I think I do like you too...Whitlock." I smirked and he tipped his head enough to kiss me.
There was no hesitance in the kiss. He tasted like toothpaste and I knew I must have tasted way worse but he didn't seem to mind.
The kissing continued until the coffeemaker gurgled and we needed to breathe. I could feel his arousal against mine, but neither of us did anything about that, it wasn't time, not yet.
"Can we make this work?" he asked seriously and I looked into his lovely blue eyes to find the answer or some confirmation that I was making the right decision. Maybe I saw it, maybe not. I did answer him honestly though.
"Yes, I think we're old enough to deal with everything in stride."
And just like that he kissed me once again and then told me to go brush the whiskey taste out of my mouth while he made breakfast.
It was one of many mornings like that, though nearly the only one with the whiskey included.
The bet...we never resolved that.
Somehow it lost its meaning after we stopped going clubbing more than once every two weeks and chose to stay home or go to movies instead. Making Johnny and Jasper purr was suddenly more important than making bets or trying to tap the latest piece of ass on the scene.
Yes, I bottomed first. To my surprised I was not a lesser man for it and instead I felt empowered somehow, for being able to make Jasper feel the things he did while taking me. Eventually, around the year marker of our relationship, he bottomed for me a few times to get rid of his fears, but I was perfectly content to stay where I was. With Jasper, that was where I belonged somehow, writhing under him while we brought each other the pleasure all the fucking we had done before hadn't provided either of us.
Love...it really is an interesting thing. Ours eventually conquered my father's prejudices and made me punch Riley when I first met him. Love made Jasper's momma forgive me and then forgive Riley too once she found out why I had punched him, but that took much longer.
Love was the thing that made me see monogamy in a new light too. It was another surprise for me, how easy making the decision was. And how great it felt each and every time I saw him turn down someone younger and better looking and return to me with my smile on his lips.
:: :: :: ::
A/N2: So, how was it?