No Bella Allowed Contest

Title: Sober

Pen name: vampireisthenewblack

Pairings: Edward/Jasper

Disclaimer: Edward and Jasper belong to Stephenie. This original storyline belongs to me.

To see other entries in the No Bella Allowed Contest, please visit the Contest's FanFiction page:

http:/ www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net /community/ No_Bella_Allowed_Contest_Entries/77838/

Summary: Edward has alienated his friends and neglected his family through his addiction to alcohol. Only one person still remains who can help him get his life back, but there is a very good reason Jasper has hung around this long. AH|Slash|O/S|Entry in the NO BELLA ALLOWED contest.

Warning: This be graphic slash, my boys swear as badly as I do, and this story deals (however vaguely) with the theme of alcohol addiction.

Thanks: My kindred spirit tjbaby, I couldn't do this stuff without your encouragement. And the beta with the mad grammar skills, k_BlackNightingale, thanks so much for making me look better :D Way, way, way better.

A/N: This is my cherry popper in a few ways. First slash, first AH fanfic, and the longest fic I've posted to date. I'm both excited and nervous as hell. Oh, and I don't have any first hand experience with alcoholism.

Jasper and I had been best friends since high school, when he'd let me copy his answers during a science test I hadn't studied for. It set the scene for our friendship. I was the irresponsible and impulsive one, he was reliable and logical. We couldn't have been more different then, and it was still the same six years later. The contrast never surprised me. I never gave a second thought to why he rarely drank, while I was getting toasted several times a week; why he never brought girls home, and I was whoring around constantly, bringing home a different girl every night we went out.

Not that it was likely for me to notice anything, when I was drunk half the time and hung-over the rest. It came to a head one night when Jasper had to let me into the house when I'd forgotten my keys. I was so drunk I could barely stand, I had no idea how I'd gotten home, and he found me sitting on the front porch, my head in my hands, willing myself not to throw up.

"You've gotta stop doing this to yourself," he told me as he helped me into the house.

"Don't be a self-righteous prick, Jasper," I slurred. "What? You don't drink so now no one gets to?"

He pushed me up against my closed bedroom door and tried to get me to look him in the eye. It was difficult; I couldn't seem to focus. "You have no fucking idea, Edward Cullen," he told me. "I can't stand watching you destroy yourself like this, you need to pull your head out of your ass and think about the people who care about you. Do you even care how many times Alice has rung this week? When was the last time you spoke to her or went to visit your folks?"

My baby sister, Alice, was seventeen, still in high school and living at home with our parents. I hadn't seen them in months, hadn't talked to them in weeks, although the phone messages kept piling up. I meant to call them back, I really did, but the phone was right by the fridge and the fridge—

I always made sure there was beer in the fridge. Beer and Jack Daniels; they were the most important things to me. I knew it wasn't good… but I couldn't find the will to do anything about it. Jasper was talking again, but I couldn't make sense of his words. I couldn't bear to keep looking at him, his features were dancing in front of my eyes. I grimaced and averted my gaze, letting my eyes fall to the floor and the garish pattern on the outdated carpet.

"Are you gonna puke?" I heard him say.

I shook my head and the room spun. "Nah… need to sleep."

He let out an exasperated sigh, and opened the door, grabbing me by the arms so I didn't fall into the room. "Fine. But we're gonna have a talk tomorrow before you get on it again." He helped me stumble over to my bed, where I fell unceremoniously and passed out.

~oOo~

I avoided Jasper's eyes as I walked into the kitchen the next afternoon and opened the fridge. I whirled on him, livid. "What the fuck, Jasper? Where's the fucking beer?"

He didn't even flinch. "Drink some water."

"I want beer," I hissed between clenched teeth.

"Do you remember last night?"

"Not much," I lied.

He sighed, shaking his head minutely and grinding his teeth into his lip. He glanced at the message pad beside the phone. "Alice called. Again."

I rolled my eyes. "You know she just uses it as an excuse to talk to you right? You can't be that blind."

Jasper laughed, but there was no humour in it. "She's worried about you. And so am I."

There was something in the look on his face that made me pause. He looked like he was in pain. I didn't know what to do about it. There was an instinct there—buried deep under my own selfishness—that made me want to reach out to him, to comfort him. I shrugged it off. "I can look after myself," I muttered.

The pain on his face turned to agony. "You're an alcoholic."

Anger rose within me. "Fuck off." I turned to leave.

"Then give it up." He moved to stand in the doorway, blocking my path.

I could barely think past my immediate need, let alone consider dealing with it indefinitely, but I wasn't going to admit that to him. "Get out of my way before I make you."

His face screwed up in anguish, but he didn't move. "I won't let you do this to yourself any longer." There was a slight quiver in his voice, the tiniest bit of fear, and I was going to damn well take advantage of it.

I pulled myself up to my full height and fixed my most threatening gaze on him. "I don't wanna hurt you, Jasper," I growled, my hands balling into fists. "But if you don't get out of my fucking way..."

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and took a deep breath. And then he raised one shaking hand, slipping it around the back of my neck to pull me down so he could press his forehead to mine. I'd been ready to hit him, and he knew it, and yet he wasn't backing away, he wasn't preparing to hit me back, he wasn't calling me a selfish prick and telling me to fuck off...

He'd reached out to me, and he was still shaking, but I didn't think it was fear anymore. His voice cracked as he whispered: "Please, Edward. It's killing me, seeing you like this. I can't stand it."

Something shifted within me. There was bravery, pure honesty in Jasper's voice, as if he was putting himself on the line, risking himself in his care for me. He was the only one of my friends who'd stuck with me through all the drunken bullshit. And it wasn't like he was family, who were stuck with me no matter what. He could have easily given up on me, walked away and never had to deal with my crap again. But he didn't. His true friendship, his unconditional love broke through the barriers I had built up. It made me not want to disappoint him.

I dropped my defensive stance and taking a deep breath, tried to relax myself. "Fine," I whispered, and I could hear the defeat in my own voice. "I'll try."

He exhaled, as if he'd been holding his breath. "I'll help you," he said, nothing but compassion and patience in his expression.

~oOo~

He'd been so patient with me, even when I was snapping at him constantly. I was a complete bastard the first few days, and he just shrugged it all off. He never let me out of his sight though, except for when we were sleeping. I could have so easily snuck out of the house in the middle of the night, but I never betrayed his trust like that. Instead, if I couldn't sleep, I'd wake him up and ask him to watch a movie with me. At least I knew then that I wouldn't be tempted.

We spent more time together than we ever had before, and I felt like I knew him better than I ever had.

I wouldn't have been able to get through the first few weeks without him. He was true to his word; he was with me constantly—almost to the point of annoyance. He dealt with me through all the anger, the sweating and anxiety, sitting up with me when I couldn't sleep at night, and he made sure I ate. He pushed me to reconnect with my family, and laughed at me when I complained about the weight I'd put on. "Don't be such a bitch," he told me. "You look good."

I was lucky, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but I was thrown into a state of panic after a phone call from Alice. I went to him straight away. "Alice wants me to take her to a club for her birthday. Mum and Dad won't let her go with her friends… I'm not ready to go to a bar, Jazz."

He smiled at me, and I relaxed immediately. "I'll do it," he suggested. "I'll take her out."

I'd always suspected that he had a thing for her, just as she had for him. "Oh I see," I teased.

He rolled his eyes at me. "Believe me, Edward. You can trust me with your sister." He gave me a curious look that made me feel as if there was some joke I wasn't getting.

He looked beyond sheepish when he arrived home after taking Alice out. It took me only seconds to realise why. "My god, Jasper, are you drunk?" I was surprised. I'd only ever seen him drink a handful of times in the years we had known each other.

He cringed. "God, Edward, I'm sorry, I feel like a complete asshole... fucking hypocrite… Alice is very persuasive—"

I laughed. It didn't bother me as much as I thought it would have, though the smell of beer on him was distracting. "Alice was trying to get you drunk, huh? Did it do her any good?"

He dissolved into a fit of giggles. "Uhh, that would be no." There was that joke again, and this time it bugged me.

"Is there something wrong with my sister?" I demanded angrily. "Is she not good enough for you?"

He stopped his laughter and stared at me. "Alice is great," he said seriously. "She's funny, she's smart, she's one of the nicest people I know, and she's totally cute—a lot like you actually—but I'm not interested in her like that."

I was disappointed. I'd always had a tiny hope that they would eventually get together—I couldn't have wished for a better boyfriend for my precious sister, and having my best friend for a brother-in-law definitely appealed. "Why not?"

"Because she's a girl."

I gaped at him. "What the fuck?"

"I'm gay, you idiot." He clapped his hand over his mouth and giggled again. "Shit. See this is why I don't drink. No fucking verbal filter."

I was stunned. Six years and I'd never known. I'd been too self-absorbed to question why I'd never seen him with a girl, but suddenly things began to fall into place. "I am an idiot," I muttered. "Fuck, Jasper, why didn't you ever tell me?"

He gnawed on his lip, a worried expression on his face. "At first I thought you wouldn't wanna hang out with me anymore. And then I just… never got around to it."

"You're such a dick. You think I'm that narrow minded?"

He shrugged. "I didn't want to risk it."

~oOo~

I knew that I wasn't a homophobe, of that I was certain. And fuck, I'd been hit on by guys more than a few times and had never gotten angry or made any comment other than a polite refusal. We had gay acquaintances, and I couldn't ever remember making any kind of derogatory comment at all, much less in Jasper's earshot. I just couldn't understand why he wouldn't have told me.

No, I wasn't a homophobe. For a start, it would have made me a hypocrite, being that I didn't think I was completely straight myself. There had been a couple of times, when a guy had expressed interest, that I'd actually hesitated a few moments before telling him I wasn't interested. I never ever thought twice before having casual sex with women, but I had some kind of skewed idea that to be intimate with a man I needed some kind of emotional connection first. Actually, that did make me a hypocrite, because I didn't take the opportunity while it presented itself to tell Jasper just that.

So from then on, we were closer than ever. It was like that final honesty in our friendship had been reached, and we could say anything to each other.

But I knew that there was still that tiny thing I hadn't said, and so one day, I came out with it.

"So you're bi?" he asked me.

"Umm, I don't think I'd go so far as to say that… it's just maybe a couple of times that I've been remotely interested…" I grimaced, having no idea how to explain myself.

But he nodded, seeming to understand perfectly. "So who was it that you were remotely interested in?" He'd dropped his eyes, and he spoke casually, but I heard a note of hope in his voice.

"You like me!" I realised. "You want me!"

He searched my face, as if looking for something; distaste perhaps, or discomfort. Apparently, he found nothing. "Actually, Edward, I've been in love with you for years." Then he waited for my reaction.

I blinked, and considered for a moment. Then I said the first thing that came into my head. "Fuck, Jazz, you've got really bad taste."

~oOo~

Six weeks sober. It meant six weeks without being able to go out, get blind drunk and drag home some random chick for anonymous release. Six weeks, just me and my hand. We were getting quite familiar, too familiar in fact, because she just wasn't doing it for me anymore.

My old faithful wank fantasy, a nameless, faceless blonde on her knees before me sucking my cock as though her life depended upon it wasn't working either.

Yeah I thought about it. Who wouldn't? Jasper was an attractive person… I found him attractive. But somehow, it felt wrong to use him—considering his feelings for me—to experiment with. He had no such hang-ups, and took my recent admission as a green light to begin pursuing me with vigour. As he saw it, I was playing hard to get, and he surprised me with his efforts. I think the long years we'd been friends gave him an unfair advantage. He could read me so easily and soon picked up on what affected me.

One morning over breakfast I found myself riveted to the way Jasper chewed on his lip as he buttered his toast, and when he glanced up at me from beneath his eyelashes and my cock leapt in my jeans, I realised my problem. "Fuck," I gasped in surprise. His face spread into a sexy, self-satisfied smile, but he said nothing.

The blonde I needed to imagine had a name, had a face. His name was Jasper, and he was beautiful. Standing under the hot water, my eyes shut tight as I pictured him looking up at me from beneath his long eyelashes had me coming hard in record time. I had been unnecessarily stubborn and it was time for me to do something about it.

It took me a few days to work up the courage. It was ridiculous, because I had no fear of rejection, although I think it was the fact that once I gave him an outward sign that I was interested, there would be no going back. It was uncharted territory for me, everything was new. It wasn't just that he was a guy... it was that I actually had feelings for him, and I had no clue how to deal with that.

We were in the kitchen, and I was watching him do the dishes—of all mundane activities—but found myself fascinated by the way the muscles in his back moved. As he passed a plate from the sink to the rack on his right and each time he twisted, I watched the muscles shift under the tight shirt he wore. I wanted to run my hands over his body, and I found myself moving towards him without any conscious effort.

He must have heard me, or felt me, or something, because he turned when I was only inches away. This time the satisfied smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he had a look in his eyes that I could only describe as hungry.

My heart started to race, and I could hear my own pulse in my ears, in my head. I couldn't stop myself from reaching out, the palm of my hand pressing against his hard chest. A kind of shock went through me when I touched him, ripping up my arm and shooting straight to my dick. His lips parted and he gasped—he felt it too.

Breathing hard, I leaned into him, inhaling his masculine scent, my lips close to, but never touching his skin. They ghosted over his cheekbone and down to the corner of his mouth. I paused, a hair's breadth away from connecting. I let the anticipation build, not because I wanted to tease him, but because it was so thrilling, so electric. The tension grew and he moaned, his need clear in his agonised tones.

I could stand it no longer. My lips hung slightly open and I brushed my lower lip against his, before finally capturing that heated, bruised flesh in my mouth. It was warm, hot even, soft and swollen. I sucked it into my mouth and swept my tongue across it. He moaned, and the sound went straight to my groin. His wet hands slipped around my neck while he slowly thrust his body against mine as he deepened the kiss and his fingers wove themselves into my hair. Our tongues met, sliding wetly as our lips moved together, slowly, gently yet insistent.

It was the slowest, most sensual and tender kiss I'd ever experienced. I could almost feel him vibrating with the restraint it took him to hold back, but he let me set the pace. He tasted divine, and smelt even better; clean and masculine, and the barest hint of stubble on his face felt fantastic as it rubbed against my two days growth.

I pressed myself against his hard body, so different, so good. I was getting hard, and he was too; I could feel him pressed against my thigh and I dared to slip my knee between his legs to press against him, making him moan into my mouth. I slid my hands up the back of his shirt, letting my palms move over his smooth warm flesh, feeling the definition that I had so admired earlier. I found myself shifting, aligning our hips and moving against him, pressing him against the bench and rubbing my cock against his through our jeans.

The kiss became urgent, each of us devouring the other, teeth banging as we ground together. I felt a tingle at the base of my spine, and it grew, increasing too fast for my comfort. "Jazz," I mumbled urgently against his lips. "If we... I'm gonna—"

"It's okay, baby," he murmured back, "me too." He rocked his hips against mine and began to kiss me with a renewed fervour.

My hands slipped down to his ass and I thrust against him, resuming the rhythm we'd lost in my hesitation. He began to moan into my mouth as our hips rocked together and I felt my orgasm building.

Jasper wrenched his lips from mine. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna come," he gasped against my cheek before he tensed, pulling my hair and cried out: "Oh fuck yes!"

I felt his cock—even through all the layers—surging against mine and it pushed me over the edge with him. We clung together, shaking, sweaty and gasping for air.

"You okay?" he whispered against my throat when the shudders had subsided.

"Yeah." I buried my face in his hair. "Fuck. So intense."

"I know. As first kisses go, that was fucking phenomenal."

~oOo~

I'd been sober two months, and it was probably a bit soon to be in a bar. The pervading smell of beer was more than a little distracting, but Jasper was always with me, always touching me, and rather than distrust, I felt secure and safe with his presence. His closeness was reassuring. It was easy for me to be here, surrounded by the smell of alcohol, people drinking, laughing, even though it tormented me. I wanted it, I wanted to get drunk, but it was easy because he was with me. I knew he'd never let me destroy myself again. I knew that I didn't want to disappoint him.

It was his favourite band, I couldn't let him just not see them, and I insisted on coming, insisted that I would be fine. As long as he was with me all the time I would be fine. And while I was experiencing something like a sugar rush from all the Coke I had consumed, I was fine.

We leant against the wall furthest from the bar where there was still a good view of the stage. The deafening music meant that he could lean close to speak in my ear, and it was dark. His hand rested on my hip as he stood behind me, angled so I could glance back easily and meet his eyes.

He wasn't intending to drink tonight. I was the one who encouraged him to get a beer, to get another, because we were in a kind of holding pattern. I was too inexperienced to initiate anything that would take our physical relationship to the next level, and he was being overly considerate of my inexperience. One of us needed to have lowered inhibitions, and it couldn't be me, so I contrived to get him drunk.

It had been a week since I'd kissed him in the kitchen, and we had fallen easily into being 'together'. It wasn't as if much had to change, we knew each other so well, and we'd shared a house for three years... But we weren't rushing things. That kiss had gotten so quickly out of hand, both of us driven by our lust, and neither of us wanted our physical relationship to continue that way. We kissed a lot, and I felt like my hands knew almost every inch of his body now, but that was as far as it went. Funny how I never thought twice about meeting a girl and fucking her the same night—but I'd never felt about a girl the way I felt about Jasper. He'd admitted to having done the same from time to time—but with guys of course—another reminder of how clueless I'd once been and how little I'd known him. But so far, Jasper and I had stayed out of each other's beds. It had been so tempting at night just to creep into his room and climb into bed with him, but we both knew what would happen. I wasn't in a hurry... and to be honest I was just a little apprehensive.

For myself, I'd decided that I wanted to wait until I'd told him I loved him. He told me occasionally how he felt, not often, not wanting to overwhelm me or make me feel obligated, and the one time I'd been about to say it back he'd stopped me. "When you're ready, baby," he'd said, smiling.

But I knew that I didn't want to be anywhere but with him. No force on earth could have torn me away. And I had a complete fascination with everything he did. I got lost when he smiled, transfixed by the way his cheeks dimpled and his eyes crinkled at the corners. I stared when his fingers caught in the ends of his hair as he pushed his hands through his curls. I stopped breathing when he pressed his teeth into the soft flesh of his lip.

I was in love with him.

"You're suffering from Stockholm Syndrome," he joked when I tried to tell him. He was afraid to believe me. I worried myself. I'd never been in love before; I didn't know how it was supposed to feel.

His fingers caressing the exposed skin between my shirt and the top of my jeans brought me back to the present. I looked back and his eyes were on the stage, his fingers on my skin moving to the beat of the music. I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else in the world other than here with him, and for the first time that night I completely forgot about the smell of the beer, and even the music faded. I took hold of his free hand and squeezed, and his eyes flicked to mine. I leaned back slightly, and he leaned forward so I could speak into his ear.

"I love you, Jasper," I said, and then pressed my lips to his cheek as I pulled away.

He looked hopeful, but just a little unsure. There was a question in his eyes.

'It's true,' I mouthed. 'I'm in love with you.'

His lips parted, and I could feel his breathing hitch. His fingers clutched my hip tighter and he leaned closer. I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck, the smell of beer wafting towards me. It didn't affect me in the slightest, but I felt my cock hardening in reaction to his proximity. His hips pressed firmly against my ass and he was hard—very hard. I pulled away, putting some space between us. The last thing we needed was to start grinding ourselves together in this bar and to be honest, Jasper was more than a little drunk, and I felt that I should take responsibility. "You need to chill, dude," I whispered, glancing over at the group of skinheads standing not far from us.

He looked at them, and then back at me. He bit down on his lip, and then let his tongue drag across the indentation. He leaned in. "Do you maybe... wanna get out of here?"

~oOo~

I'd been successful in my cunning plan—he could barely keep his hands off me on the way home. I felt a little guilty, but it wasn't like he was completely trashed, just relaxed enough to push me a little, to get me past my uncertainties. Now, uninhibited, he let me know exactly what he wanted.

He dragged me into his bedroom and pushed me up against the closed door. "I'm going to fuck you," he breathed against my neck as his hands expertly unfastened my belt, lowering the zip on my jeans. His hand slipped inside and wrapped around my hard cock, holding it firmly, squeezing it as his teeth scraped across the skin of my throat.

"Oh fuck," I gasped, incredibly turned on but freaking out a little at this point. I had no idea what I was doing, but I didn't want to stop.

I'd said what he just said to me to countless girls, and I'd been equally confident, and now here I was shaking like a fucking virgin. I guess that was accurate. I figure I was scared; of the unfamiliar, of not knowing what I was doing, of... I don't know what.

In any case, he noticed. "Shh," he soothed. "It's okay, baby." He let go of my cock so it was now pressing against his stomach, still rock hard, and his hands were on either side of my face, his lips on mine. "I'm not gonna do anything you don't want." He pressed harder against me, against my dick. "I just figured..."

I laughed at myself, because it was the right assumption for him to make. I did want it, but... "I have no fucking idea what I'm doing," I admitted.

"Oh, honey," Jasper assured. "You're doing fine, and I know exactly what I'm doing. Don't worry, love; you're in very capable hands." With that, he wrapped those hands around my cock again and started stroking it, slowly, sending agonisingly delicious sensations shooting through my entire body. I moaned, I couldn't help it; the feeling was just too good.

"You okay, baby?" he whispered.

It was all I could do to bring myself to answer, but I managed to remember how to speak. "Mmm, yes... oh god... yeah..." and it continued, because I couldn't keep my mouth shut after that.

Jasper seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in my loss of composure. Suddenly he took his hands off me and I cried out at the loss. But they were back fast, pushing the t-shirt I wore up my torso. I shrugged it off, quicker than I would have thought possible, and then had an urgent feeling that he was wearing far too many clothes himself.

I shoved the jacket off his arms and let it fall to the floor behind him. I began pulling at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons so badly that I had to pull my lips away from his to see what I was doing. "Fuck," I spat in frustration, needing the fabric that came between us gone, needing to touch his skin. "Wear a t-shirt next time, yeah?"

"Sure," he gasped, as he helped me with the buttons and then tossed the offending garment to the floor. Our lips met again, and I touched his chest, ran my fingers over his nipples, through the soft hair that grew there, and then my hands wandered to his back as I pulled him in closer.

I realised that I wasn't scared anymore, I wasn't unsure, I didn't give a fuck what I was supposed to do, I only cared that I could be close to him, touch him, and have him touch me.

I think he knew it too. He pushed me down onto his bed, and then he was gone. But he was only tugging at my shoes, casting them aside, pulling my jeans down my legs. He looked up at me then, as I raised myself on my elbows. "I've wanted you like this for so long," he said, a note of wonder in his voice. "I never thought it would happen."

"Yeah, me neither." I wanted him to touch me so badly I could barely breathe.

He stroked his index finger over my knee. "I remember when you got this scar." He kissed it with soft lips.

I sighed with want. "Yeah, we were idiots."

He kissed my inner thigh, just above the knee. "You were an idiot. Who jumps out of a moving van?" He moved a little further up and kissed me again, his tongue darting out to wet the flesh there. "I thought you were gonna kill yourself," he continued, "I was freaking out." His lips met my skin again, and he sucked some of the soft flesh into his mouth and gently bit down.

"Oh, Jesus," I gasped. I desperately wanted him to get to my cock. The need to be touched was excruciating.

His hands on my thighs, he raised himself just a little more, and then he was so close; his tongue trailing along the crease at the inside of my leg as his cheek brushed against my cock.

I couldn't stand it any longer. "Oh god, please, Jasper," I cried, my eyes locked to his. They sparkled, and then he turned his head and drew his full red lower lip into his mouth, dragging it against his top teeth. Fuck, was he trying to drive me crazy? I wanted the heated flesh of that lip on my cock. "Please, Jasper, fuck! I need your mouth on me!"

He smiled, his mouth opened, and his tongue darted out to lick the lip he'd just been gnawing. Slowly, so slowly, with his wet tongue he licked me from base to tip, and took the head of my cock between his lips. I barely controlled the urge to thrust into his mouth. "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!" I expelled as his lips slid down my shaft and I felt myself hit the back of his throat. Then he went further, opening his throat, his lips coming to rest right at the base.

Then he swallowed.

I couldn't think. God knows what the fuck I was saying; I heard my voice but couldn't truly comprehend the words.

Whatever I was saying, it must have encouraged him, because what he was doing to my dick with his mouth quickly became indescribable; became more and more intense, and it both seemed to go on forever and yet at the same time it seemed so soon...

And I was there, at that point, that excruciatingly divine moment when you know it's inevitable, he just has to do something different, or something more, or new, and then it will all come crashing down around you.

Jasper's hand was at the base of my cock, pumping me while his hot, wet mouth moved up and down along my shaft. His left hand gripped my balls, and oh god, that was good.

His fingers disappeared from my cock, as his right hand slipped downward, down under my balls, and with his elbows, Jasper coaxed my legs apart. His fingers slowly, so slowly ran along my perineum, and then, feather light, stroked my asshole.

I tried to vocalise my feelings, but all that came out was a strangled groan. Jasper slipped one saliva slick finger into me, and I moaned. He added another. I felt stretched, open, but in a good way. Almost immediately, his fingers were not enough, I needed more. Though I was on the verge of coming, I found the words I needed. "Fuck me, Jasper," I breathed, and it was the volume of a whisper, but somehow he heard it, somehow he knew.

The loss of his mouth on my cock and his fingers in my ass made me moan, but he cut it off with a kiss. He directed me then, and I obeyed. Arranging me on his bed face down, a towel-draped pillow beneath my hips, he slid down beside me and kissed me again. His right hand slid down the centre of my back, caressing, stroking as I quivered impatiently. His hand slipped down between the cheeks of my ass, and I moaned and pressed up against his fingers. I squirmed, rocking my hips against the bed to stimulate my aching cock, trapped between the pillow and my stomach.

Jasper pulled away, and stood beside the bed as he dropped his own jeans to the floor. I reached out for him, wrapping my fingers around his cock. I wanted to taste him, but I wanted him inside me more, so I let go and allowed him to roll the condom he had waiting down over his thick shaft.

Neither of us spoke as he crawled back onto the bed. His hands were on my hips, shifting softly over my skin, and from the corner of my eye, I could see the look on his face and it was reverent, loving.

I sighed as he slid two fingers, slippery with lubricant, back inside me. I shifted, rubbing my cock against the soft towel beneath me.

"You okay, baby?" he breathed, his voice catching in his throat, the emotion he felt obvious.

"Oh yeah," I managed to answer. "Please, love..."

His fingers left me, and he moved closer, the hair on his thighs tickling the soft skin on the inside of my legs. I sighed as he pressed the length of his cock between the cheeks of my ass, then slid wetly against my hole.

His fingers dug into my hips, but not painfully. I felt pressure as he pushed the head of his cock against my entrance, I gasped as he pushed into me, so slow, and I moaned as I felt the head slip in fully.

A sharp intake of breath came from behind me as he stopped, waiting. But I didn't want to wait, and I pushed back, craving more.

Encouraged, he pushed further inside, making slow shallow thrusts that gradually became deeper and deeper.

I was moaning, rocking my hips upwards to meet his as he reached full depth, and his thrusts became longer and more urgent. Soft grunts and words I could not comprehend fell from his lips, and his fingers bit deeply into my hips, pulling me upwards as he plunged into me.

I rose up onto my knees, needing more of him inside me, and as I did, I looked back over my shoulder at him. Our eyes locked together, and his were wide, feverish. His lips were open slightly, and as I watched, he dragged his teeth across his lower lip, biting down hard.

Reaching around me, he took my cock in his hand, and began to pump it in time with his thrusts. I couldn't hold my head up any longer, my forehead rested against the quilt as I surrendered to the dual stimulation, his cock in my ass, thrusting hard now, driving deep within me, and his hand on my cock, stroking me just the way I needed it.

He was dragging me, pulling me towards that exquisitely agonising moment, that precipice, teetering on the edge, so close...

I felt his cock swell inside me, and his thrusts slowing, he started to curse. "Oh fuck!" he spat. "Fuck... I'm coming... Jesus... fuck!"

I fell, over the edge into delicious spasms, my cock shooting fluid out onto the towel as I felt him pumping within me. I cried out his name, told him I loved him, though he probably couldn't hear for the delicious filth that fell from his own lips.

It seemed to continue endlessly, but finally he quieted, and he leaned over my back, wrapping his arms around my waist. I felt his warm lips between my shoulder blades. "I love you," he whispered.

I couldn't form words, could only struggle for breath as he pulled away, and pulled his softening cock out of my body. Removing the towel from beneath me, he pulled us both down onto the bed. We lay on our sides, facing each other, and he kissed me, my face, my eyelids, my lips. "God, I love you," he repeated, his mouth on mine as I continued to pant, trying to catch my breath.

"You okay, honey?" he asked, when I still couldn't speak.

I nodded enthusiastically, managed to give him a reassuring smile, and then nestled my face into his throat, content with his arms around me. "I love you, Jasper," I was finally able to whisper.

A/N: Part of this one shot was originally an outtake of my 2009 NaNo novel, and was original, NZ set, fiction. While I Twilightified it, I also attempted to Americanise it (rather badly actually). I've just (5 May 2011) switched it back to kiwi (this consisted of changing one word—Mom became Mum), and while I was at it, added a few comma's where they were needed. Nothing else of note has changed. It remains pretty much in it's original, very flawed, state.