~o~
Jasper knows he should probably feel bad about going down on his sister's boyfriend. Beyond the obvious reasons why this is wrong, there are some things that shouldn't be shared. But he knows Rosalie, knows her tongue is probably slipping past his girlfriend's lips right now, knows she's probably running her hand up Alice's thigh. Rosalie likes to gamble and she loves to raise the stakes.
The thought of it — Rosalie winning — makes him bite down on Edward's cock, and he hears the other boy grunt before he cums. He shouldn't be surprised. Edward likes it a little rough, and Jasper doesn't want to think about what that means.
He doesn't kiss Edward when he's done, just slides underneath the covers next to him. A tongue in the mouth is more intimate in ways a cock in the mouth isn't. He doesn't write the rules — the rules are unwritten anyway, and unspoken. But they both follow them to the letter.
There are certain things that aren't done. And if you're going to do them anyway, you certainly aren't going to talk about them.
He leaves a careful amount of room between them – enough distance so they can't accidentally touch, enough proximity so that he can feel Edward's body heat radiating off him in waves. Edward is like a volcano, all stony façade and subterranean heat. Jasper knows that anger curls in Edward's depths, coiled like a primitive thing, and wonders if that's what fuels his heat. Jasper's never felt things that strongly, and he wonders if that's why his own skin feels so tepid in comparison.
Edward's hand bridges the gap between them, slides into the boxers that Jasper wears to sleep in. He feels Edward's hand encircle his cock, struggles to keep his breathing even. Even a gasp would make this too real – gasps are so close to words.
The door cracks open a little, and Jasper sees his mother's silhouette, framed in the hallway light. The Hale's aren't happy about Jasper's girlfriend and Rosalie's boyfriend spending the night every weekend, but they can't exactly say no. They take turns doing bed checks at odd times, making sure gender lines are divided, like a middle-school dance. Jasper thinks sometimes that it would be hysterical to see the look on his mother's face if she walked in on Jasper swallowing while another boy came in his mouth. She'd probably be thrilled if everyone started having heterosexual teenage sex after that.
Nonetheless, he stills his body as her eyes adjust to the dark, keeps his breathing deep, feigning sleep. Edward's hand still moves subtly under the covers – he's a gambler, like Rosalie — but his mother doesn't notice, and she clicks the door closed and moves on. Jasper kicks Edward hard in the shin, his first concession ever that this is something that's actually happening. Edward moves his fist faster, more aggressively, and Jasper tries to switch his thoughts back to something he should be thinking about, like Alice. But she's only ever touched him once, and it wasn't like this, and he lets out a shuddering sigh.
Edward hands him the box of tissues, and he goes to the bathroom to clean himself up. He splashes water on his face, and he can hear the muted voices of his parents down the hall. They're arguing about something, and he wonders why they stay up late on weekends and haunt the halls, making sure everyone is in their proper place.
He thinks that maybe if they stopped checking, nothing would really change. Maybe everyone is in their proper place after all.
When he comes back to bed, Edward is already asleep, jaw slack, snoring slightly. Jasper wonders if this is how wives feel years into marriage, when romance is starting to wane. But this is not romance. This is not roses and poetry and song dedications going out on the request line.
When Edward rolls over and tangles their legs together, Jasper thinks it might even be better.
~o~