Edward/Jasper, SLASH, NC-17. Don't like, fuck off.
Jasper PoV.
It's All About the Chase
I'm a soldier, right?
Wrong.
I'm a hunter.
And sex isn't a battle; sex is a hunt.
So guess what I'm brilliant at.
---
Hnn, oh, the excitement, I forget every time. Singing under the veins. Prospect of new prey; new fuck, fucking awesome, better than a blood rush.
Not quite, but still.
The only disadvantage of being a vampire; no beds means sex in inconvenient places.
'Disadvantage' is questionable. As is inconvenient.
No problem with the cold, though.
Naked up against the tree, I twine fingers deeper into his hair. Rain sings off every facet, soaking hair and running off living stone. No need for clothes, Edward, and they're gone.
I bite his ear and the pain that flourishes between us both is a welcome shock in a dead numb world.
His response is two fingers, fucking meandering, pausing the small of my back so I think the fucking filthiest thing I can and he whimpers, bucks into me and gasps, I smile; closing in on my prey. My grin breaks as the first breaches inside (hiss of breath; still catching sharply but the pain is half the fun) and all I can think is at fucking last and he gasp-giggles at the thought, an odd noise in the middle of the silence of hissing rain. There's no movement; foreheads resting together in an arc of perfection I watch his eyes sharpen, the damned pair of us frozen just like this. I murmur "please" and I can read in his heart it's what he wanted to hear. He presses a second inside now and I croon, rocking downwards on a happy smile, scrape of scalp tearing the skin of the tree behind me. Head thrown back to proffer an untouched neck.
Gentle thrusts, ahhonetwothree onetwothree, we never dance anything but this.
When his fingers are free I lean over and kiss his eyes because I know if he could cry he would be now.
He whispers "Jasper" on a feather breath and now a cold mouth presses, tongue gently (illicitly) on my collarbone. I smell the blood on his tongue now on me and groan; our breath stops as he fucking finally slides inside and though he mouths a desperate o I know he won't breathe again –
and then it's all about the rhythm, about the slipslide, a vicious bundle ravaged inside leading to hot bliss insinuated in so much more than gentle touches. There's hot rough bark against my back, crushing fingers on my hipbones, and yeah, I want to cry too because we're damned you see and it'll never quite be the same (human) again
I can't give him the hothothot he craves but the tight is there and I shriek as I squeeze because fuck, fuck fuck
it's all about the pleasure and so when he comes it's an ecstatic absence of noise
I come
with my mouth
a silent
O.
---
"We can't even go hunting anymore without my pants ending up round your ankles."
I smile beatifically as I shake out my hair, flash of droplets through the air. "It's not my fault you're such a desperate hormonal teenager."
Edward snorts in derision but kisses the nape of my neck and the race back home is almost as exhilarating as the sex –
– almost.
---
I don't know if he remembers but I do.
"No, thank you, Jasper," he'd murmured, and though the shock (that sent tangible ripples in the air only I could taste) wasn't as prominent as when I'd first asked
("Fuck me, Edward," perhaps I was a bit forthcoming?)
it was still there and it worried (frightened) me.
For a moment as I watched him walk away I wondered if I'd read him wrong; seen fondness as lust, seen familiarity as desire.
Later, (not sleeping, that'd be an impossibility; simply staring at the stars) I listened to him come on a scream in the unused bathroom with a smile and vowed to teach him the value of silence.
He certainly doesn't have any complaints to the demand now.
---
Lick of lips against my own, familiar as the ages. I grin, trailing a finger gently across his collar. I chuckle drily at the thought that he had said no as we fell backwards together.
I can always make him sway.
It's stopping myself that's the hard part.
---
More than sex?
It's so hard to say.
It wasn't meant to be.
But I say his name when I come, and I don't know what that means anymore.
---
I don't mind Bella.
Jealousy works two ways, after all.
Sex with Alice isn't the same but I can shout his name in my head knowing he hears.
He burns to think I'm not his, he's not alone and goddamn it's good.
---
When he leaves, I'm not worried.
I let him slip away.
We've got an eternity, after all, and he's oh so fun to toy with (always charges in so aggressively then howls like a dog when he's fucked) when – never if, though I know it's what he tells himself everytime – he comes crawling back for more.
I'm happy to settle for just sex. He's addicted, I can smell it.
He promised not to leave me behind, and he's a man of his word till his dying day.
--
"If I never see your face again I don't mind, 'cause we've got much further than I thought we'd get tonight."
Inspired by If I Never See Your Face Again - Maroon 5.