A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns, I just play.
For that brief moment our lips puckered, testing out the feel of this new intimacy.
The movement was minute but the action felt monumental.
Our first kiss.
He felt like satin and tasted like cherries.
I wanted to watch him, but the sensations tethered me to his lips so I opened my eyes. The feeling of nervous tension was only magnified when I met his watchful eyes, staring back at me.
It's an awkward feeling to kiss with your eyes open. Instead of just dropping the reigns of your self control, it feels very precise and deliberate, like every moment there's the conscious decision to keep kissing. With your eyes open, it's like letting the other person know you really want it.
And so I watched him watch me kiss him, and I knew this was mutual. This wasn't an accident or a slip of the tongue – so to speak. We had decided to kiss and kiss back. Reassured, I let my eyelids flutter shut.
Our second kiss was bolder, headier. He still smelled of spices and summer and his tongue was warm and soft against my own. I felt lightheaded, and gave up trying to focus on anything besides Jas.
It's like I was on drugs. I felt keyed up and super human, reveling in my sensory overload. Every part of my body, from the tips of my ears to the backs of my knees, was overly conscious of the sensations around me. I could feel the light breeze from the open window and hear it rustling through his hair. I could hear him swallow and feel the pulse of his heartbeat in his lips. I was completely high off Jas. I was jazzed.
His hands were still pressed into the wall beside my head as he kneeled in front of me. His insistent weight reminded me that I still had my knee up between us. When I let it fall to the side, he crawled even closer.
He surrounded me without touching, our lips the only connection we shared and the epicenter of the new feelings racing through me. My whole body was flushed, and my veins coursed with adrenaline and bliss. My brain was on stutter-mode, reiterating again and again that Jasper Cullen was kissing me. Kissing me, kissing me. Surrounding me, kissing me, over me, kissing me.
It was only then that I realized he was on his knees between my spread legs with nothing between us but air. I let out a deep, throaty moan, completely overwhelmed. My fingers dug at the carpet and I pulled back for a ragged breath.
Jasper was panting too. His mouth hung open and his pupils were dilated. He looked so exposed and vulnerable as he scanned my face for a reaction.
I gave another moist kiss, our third, before I let my advances subside to gentle caresses. With my mouth gently against his I moved a hand to his cheek, holding him to me until he was merely brushing his lips back and forth across mine. Eventually he shifted to sit beside me and his hands traveled to my cheeks, carefully wiping at the tears that had dried there.
I leaned back and let my head fall onto the wall beside us. His lips were pink and his hair was even more matted than before. I knew I probably looked the same.
"Hi," I breathed, breaking into a smile I just couldn't suppress.
"Hi," he said lazily, but content.
With a quiet chuckle he rested his head against the wall too, before his expression became serious.
"I'm still so sorry about what happened, Edward." Somehow his voice sounded muffled compared to the rushing of blood past my ears. "Everything Rose said just made me wonder if you could, you know, feel like I do. And then you were asking questions but it was really hard to concentrate, you know? All I could think about was how much I wanted this."
My chest swelled, but I was immediately reminded of every time my erection and I had walked away from Jasper so as not to do something stupid.
I nodded, looking away. "I'm glad you came over."
He slipped his free arm across my shirt and grasped the back of my neck comfortingly, his thumb working tiny circles against the tense muscles there. I laid my head on his shoulder.
"You sure do have a temper."
I rolled my head even farther into his shoulder so I couldn't see his face. "I know," I whispered. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, I already knew that, what with, you know."
My dad. I rolled my eyes.
"It's just, I guess I've never been on the receiving end before."
I giggled against him, despite myself. "Yeah, and we've never had to make up before either."
He giggled back once, then again, until my forehead was bouncing against his shoulder to the rhythm of his amusement.
"Wooo, boy. You're right, that was certainly a first."
It was the first of many, I hoped. Sure that I was blushing, I still pressed myself into his neck.
"Edward?"
"Hmm?"
I could feel his nose in my hair and his lips pressing against my scalp when he spoke softly. "Come home with me."
I didn't answer as I thought about that for a moment. I definitely wanted to get out of here. I wanted to follow Jasper home and curl up in his bed and not worry about anything.
But I worried about things for a reason. There were a lot of things I wanted which life had said tough shit to, like having a dad that didn't drink or yell, and I couldn't avoid it all just because I wanted to.
Jasper caught on to my reluctance.
"Edward, please don't stay here. I don't think it's…" His lips twitched in my hair as he searched for the right word. Eventually he said, "necessary," but that's not what he was thinking. He wanted to say "safe."
"Jasper," I said determinedly. "I'll be fine. Don't worry."
When he sighed, a lock of hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it back roughly. "But I will. I do worry, Edward. Just like you worry about Alice."
Lately, it felt like I wasn't worried about Alice enough. Or at least I hadn't been, before. I clenched my jaw as I steeled myself to stay in my dad's house.
"Hey," Jas said softly, but it didn't make me look at him. He said it again a little louder and his warm palm slipped across my cheek, gently turning me up to face him.
His voice was earnest, and the fingers of his other hand were gripping mine against the short pile carpet. He looked directly into my eyes and said, "Please don't make me worry about you."
Gah. It was hard to know what the right thing was, when there were more people to consider.
I swallowed thickly, but eventually nodded. "Okay."
"Okay." He leaned back against the wall and directed my head back to his shoulder, where it had been a moment before. His fingers wound through the hair at the nape of my neck and he mentioned, "Mom's making pot roast tonight."
"Oh," I said dumbly, staring at the darkening sky out my window. "I like your mom's pot roast."
"Mm hmm," he hummed. "She knows." Then he said, "Come on, let's get you packed."
We threw practically all my clothes into my duffel bag, and filled my backpack too, so I wouldn't have to come back. It was a little bit surreal, the way I was packing for Jasper's house like I always had before. This time it felt so final.
I wasn't just going to the Cullen's because Jasper was my best friend and it was fun. No, I was going home with Jasper to live. Permanently. And I didn't like acknowledging that I was going to the Cullen's because I couldn't stay home.
I pulled the zipper closed and looked up, startled to find Jasper with my backpack in hand and staring at me, grinning like a fool.
"What?"
He ducked his head and busied himself with my backpack but said, "Nothing. It's just… neat."
Neat? That was one wildly different interpretation of things, and I knew he couldn't mean that. "Neat?"
He rolled his eyes at himself, or me. "Not, you know, everything. But you're gonna live with me. That's kinda neat."
"I already did, practically."
He didn't stop grinning, but did that little shrug thing that always vexed me. What is a shrug supposed to mean, anyway? I kept my eyes trained on him, looking for any clue to decipher what the fuck made him all smiley and quiet when not twenty minutes ago he was monologue-ing like a pro.
Well, there was the kissing.
He finally looked up at me and for a moment he just looked so… tender. I couldn't even fathom what he was thinking.
Suddenly he launched himself at me, the backpack forgotten and his arms outstretched, and I reached out to receive him. He pushed the strap from my shoulder, letting my duffel fall to the floor. I puckered my lips for another one of those kisses that made me so warm and breathless, but instead he slid his arms past my shoulders and around my back. He gripped me with enthusiasm, practically giddy.
"It's gonna be awesome."
I was a little more wary, but still hugged back.
Within seconds he leaned back, hooked one finger under my chin and tilted my face up to meet his. His lips were open and soft as they met mine, and I couldn't help but respond immediately.
We had already done this three times, and even though I felt like a fool for counting I still shuddered under his touch. That only made him kiss me more, and his hand behind my neck held me steadily against him. It was as easy as breathing to reciprocate with my hands pressed up against his chest, more gripping than pushing.
I knew we should be approaching this more cautiously, taking our time to savor each other tenderly and reverentially, instead of kissing furiously like the teenage virgins we were. I wanted to talk this out, to be reassured that I wasn't taking too much or moving too quickly, but the way my lips and neck and fingertips tingled made it difficult to concentrate.
As he pressed up against me, I was reminded of one way, at least, that we were the same. Technically, I was six foot and he was six one, or something, but wrapped up against each other, we felt the same. I was aware of his belly moving directly against mine when he talked and the synced-up rise and fall of our hard chests that sandwiched my fingers between us when we each took a breath. With my hands tracing his collar bones and his hooked over my shoulders, our elbows lined up and even our knees knocked – awkward as we were.
But still, his lips slid over mine in a fluid rhythm that made it impossible to feel self-conscious. He splayed his hands across my back and easily slipped my arms between us to wrap them around his neck.
This kind of enthusiasm was easily contagious, and all consuming. I didn't want to move too quickly, afraid that one of us would spook the other with a sudden movement, but it was easy to ignore my insecurities when I realized he wanted me.
Jasper wanted me.
The way his hands passed over my shoulder blades, skimming gently, then harder, constantly in search of someplace new to touch... He was having trouble containing his reaction and he soon traded his timid pecks for lush, wet kisses.
I escaped only briefly to take a choppy breath as I traced the side of his mouth with my tongue. He retaliated by grasping my lower lip between his teeth and giving a sharp tug, making me gasp.
He immediately let go and stared at my face, anxious and apologetic. He scanned my expression, obviously worried that he'd gone too far.
The idea that he wanted me in his mouth so bad he'd had to use his teeth was the sexiest thing ever. I pressed one hand around the nape of his neck, crushing him to me as I slipped my tongue in his mouth.
Everything else melted away – how I'd run from his house and my dad's awful temper and what a mess the rest of my life was. It all felt hazy and unimportant compared to the curly-cue patterns his finger tips were suddenly tracing on my back. The pressure was firm and even, but I wanted more than that. I slipped a hand just barely under the back of the collar of his thin white shirt for more skin-to-skin contact. I knew what the feeling of his skin against mine did to me but, in that moment, I didn't care. Compromising situations be damned!
I kissed him soundly – I wanted him too vividly not to. We continued like that for several minutes, only separating our lips to take ragged, gasping breaths.
Our noses bumped occasionally, and I could feel him rocking against me with the rhythm of our kisses. I was hesitant to pull him flush against me, but I reveled in the hard planes of his back as I swiped my free hand across his shoulder blades and down his side. Christ, he even felt beautiful, and I wanted to crush him to me and never let go.
His shoulders were a little broader than mine, and I let him encompass me with his muscular arms. I had always been astounded by his physique. At one time I maybe have been a little envious of the way each of his muscles was clearly enhanced, but now I was happy just to touch them. He had a runner's body with long legs and narrow hips, just like mine, but where I had always been a little scrawny, he had filled out beautifully. Each muscle of his legs was so defined, from the bulb of his calf to his round, tight butt.
I mean, I didn't know it was tight. I had never, well, obviously…
I pulled out of the kiss breathless, a little embarrassed, and wondered if he knew I was thinking about his butt.
I had never felt so scatter-brained and everpresent in the same moment. The feel of him still zinged through my veins as I tried to stay rooted to the spot.
Both of us were panting, open-mouthed, as I tried to think of something to say besides I can't believe that just happened.
Swiping my tongue over my own lips, I felt that they were no longer dry and chapped, but instead swollen and moist. They were better for having touched Jasper – he was like my own personal brand of chapstick.
I worked to control my breathing and my pulse, trying to get back to a place where I could think about all this logically. I had this odd feeling, like I knew I was getting what I wanted. I just didn't know what to do with it.
Jasper was immobile and wide-eyed but grinning that same mad grin. I opened my mouth to dispel the tension that was mounting between us but all that came out was, "Wow."
That was… fun. Fun and good and sexy and I wanted to do it again. But that led to thoughts of doing more which loomed in my mind like dangerous, uncharted waters. I shook the hormones from my brain and reminded myself that I'd only just gotten my best friend back, and I'd better not fuck it up.
Reluctantly, I picked up my bag and made for the hallway.
Stepping away from Jas was a shock to my system, and the fizz in my blood died down as I remembered where I was. Before we got to the front door, I said, "Wait."
Jasper just jammed his hands in his pockets as I walked over to the kitchen cabinets and flung one open.
I grabbed the two bottles of whiskey, one of scotch and one of vodka, and placed them next to the kitchen sink. One of the whiskeys was still sealed, but I opened them all and up-ended them one at a time over the drain. I watched the large bubbles breach the mouth of the bottles, making that irregular glugging noise.
Jasper watched impassively from the doorway, simply letting me do what I wanted.
Then I recapped all the bottles and placed them back in the cabinet. When I was done I stared at the amber stain slipping down the drain, and then flicked the tap on as an afterthought. I stared into the almost-reflective shine of the sink.
I knew it wouldn't stop him from drinking – having liquor in the house wasn't the problem. The real problem was that he wanted liquor here in the first place, and that he was a belligerent ass when he'd imbibed. This obviously wasn't a solution, but it was a statement.
I guess I was taking my time closing the cabinet because Jasper eventually sidled next to me at the counter. His hand fit into mine, and he squeezed a short pulse into me. For a moment it was the only thing I felt – his hand spreading warmth and peace into mine. I felt better – calmer – almost instantly, simply from his touch.
His hands can do amazing things, I thought. His hands should touch me all over.
Startled and embarrassed, I stiffened all over – no joke. I fought again to retain control over my eager erection. I knew it had been twitching before, but I didn't have an excuse now that he wasn't kissing me.
Pulling my hand from his, I moved swiftly to the front door and raised my backpack to shield my inconvenient situation.
"Come on," I said brightly. "I'm ready to get out of here."
He raised one eyebrow questioningly, but he certainly wasn't going to argue.
Jasper climbed into his mom's BMW and, after I promised to follow him straight to his house, I slipped into the driver's seat of my good old rust bucket.
Jasper carried my things, for the second time in a week, through his front door. This time though, it occurred to me that they might never come back out.
Esme was in the kitchen, but came around to the foyer when she heard the door.
"Edward!" she exclaimed. "You're back! Excellent. I was just making pot roast."
She talked like I'd been on a business trip, or took a little too long running errands. I glanced at Jasper for a clue, and Esme must have noticed my uncertainty because her face softened.
"I was going to call you, dear," she said softly. "But Jas wanted to talk to you first."
Of course, I thought. Esme and Carlisle were so attentive to their children's moods and needs, it was nearly impossible to keep a secret in this house. I wondered briefly if she'd figure out the new turn our friendship had taken. The thought was alarming in a whole new way.
I didn't have time to worry then, though. Esme smiled brightly and wiped her hands on the rose-print apron tied around her waist. "Why don't you get settled in? You might as well just take up the guest room now."
Jasper, who had moved subtly behind her, shook his head at me. I was slightly confused, so he shook it again, sharply to the right and then the left.
"Um, that's okay, Esme."
"Really, Edward. I think you'll be much more comfortable."
Jas shook his head again, and I was starting to catch on. "I've actually become pretty attached to that couch. And Jasper offered me a drawer."
I cringed internally, wondering if I was just adding to the trail of breadcrumbs that would lead Esme to the right conclusion. "As long as he doesn't mind…" I said hurriedly.
Jasper stepped back into his mother's line of sight and executed his trademark shrug. "Fine by me."
"Alright then, boys. Dinner in half an hour, so wash up."
Jasper did, indeed, have a drawer for me, and easily cleared out a second. I placed my folded shirts into one as he pulled his own clothes out and dropped them in another.
Once that was done, I made a beeline for the bathroom sink. I set up all my contact lens paraphernalia just where it had been before and washed my hands. Then I made to take out my contacts, since they'd gotten all dry from the crying and whatnot. Jasper moved in beside me to wash his hands too.
I had just screwed my contact case shut and was reaching for my glasses when a blurry but sudden movement caught my attention. Before I had a chance to react, a splatter of water caught my face. I startled, but I knew what Jasper was playing at.
This was his game. Before drying his hands, he sometimes flicked the excess water at me, catching me unaware. I should have learned to expect it by now, but somehow he still always got me.
I pulled back and tried to see Jasper by squinting. I could barely make out his curly mop of hair, but it was enough. I swiped a hand out, catching the still-flowing stream of water from the tap. I pushed as much water as I could in his direction, but his laugh didn't tell me if I'd gotten him or not.
My guess was not because within a few seconds, a whole handful of water was launched into my face. I spluttered and reached out for him, but my fingers only skimmed his shirt.
"Missed me." His smirk was even audible.
"Yeah, but not for long." I turned back to the sink, reaching out for my glasses. We couldn't all have perfect vision like Jasper Cullen, and I vowed he would feel the wrath of the nearsighted, as soon as I found my glasses.
My hand patted the wet counter but found nothing. I knew they were here – I always put them in the same spot.
Suddenly, from across the bathroom, I heard him taunting me. "Looking for these?"
"Jas, give me my glasses."
"Or what?"
I grinned, despite myself. "Or as soon as I can see again, I'll turn this faucet on you until you're drenched."
"You'll have to catch me then."
I could make out enough shapes to watch him leave the bathroom and I groaned. Stepping carefully, I maneuvered through the door frame and into his room. His white shirt stood out against the dark shades of his bedspread, and I moved quickly in his direction.
He laughed again, and latched onto my forearms. I gripped back at him tightly, and laughed too as my momentum carried me further and I almost lost my balance.
Jas slowly came into focus as he lifted my glasses to my face. The first thing I saw was his golden curls, drenched into little ringlets on the left side of his head. Small droplets fell, slowly, onto his cheek and down his neck to the collar of his shirt.
I felt immediately victorious. "Ha! I did get you!"
"Yeah." He was smiling in a lopsided way that was half bashful and half smirking. "You got me," he finished quietly.
It was only then that I finally realized how very close we were standing. In fact, my hands were still gripping his arms just as his were doing to mine. I zeroed in on his pink, curved lips, wondering if he would want to kiss me again.
He looked like he was going to, maybe, but we jerked apart at the sound of a sharp knock on the door.
"Dinner!" Carlisle called, so we grinned a little sheepishly at each other and moved toward the door.
Rosalie was having dinner at Emmett's, and I was secretly thankful to have just one night of peace to get comfortable at the Cullen's before I had to face her. I assumed there was a shit storm on the horizon, scheduled for the moment she found out I was back.
All in all, dinner was a nice slice of normal, easy life. The pot roast was delicious, of course. Carlisle welcomed me back and made friendly conversation. He and Esme asked us questions about school work and Carlisle even mentioned taking another look at my knee if I was going to be running again. They chatted about their upcoming work weeks and reminded each other about little around-the-house chores that needed doing.
I quickly forgot everything they said, though, because Jasper had let his legs fall to the side and his knee was gently resting against mine. Esme asked us how the pot roast compared to normal, saying that she'd tried some new spices, and all I could think was Your son tastes better.
Not exactly conducive to polite dinner conversation.
I was grateful when we were excused and, after Carlisle declared my knee and calf in working order, we shut ourselves back in Jasper's room. I tried to lure him back into the bathroom so I could drench him like I'd promised, but to no avail.
It wasn't until the night started to wind down that I began to get anxious. I knew I still had a lot to figure out, like what to do with Alice and my dad, not to mention what this new thing between me and Jas was.
When I started getting fidgety, Jasper grabbed my hand and slowly led me to the edge of his bed.
"Okay, Edward. What exactly happened with Alice?"
I sighed and put one hand over my eyes, trying to figure out where to start, but it just all seemed too jumbled. I shook my head and let my hair cover my face.
"I don't know, Jas. I just don't know."
"Edward."
"Look," I said. "I'm not the one who needs to talk about it. It's Alice that's shutting everybody out."
He gripped my hand tighter and scooted closer on the bed. "I think you both need to," he said quietly. "Tell me about Alice."
And so I did. I told him about finding her crying, and all the things she'd said. I told him about her mood swings, the overnight transformation and her colored contacts.
Eventually we found ourselves laying face up on his bed, with me ranting to the ceiling. I guess it was like every other time he'd listened to my anxieties, where he was patient and sympathetic and reminded me to breathe at the appropriate times. The only difference this time was that we were laying so close our arms were pressed together, and he never let go of my hand.
"It's just that she won't tell me what happened. God, when I found her on the lawn she just looked so broken. It looked like he actually… hit her." My voice choked off and I turned to find Jasper.
He looked serious, and concerned.
"I mean he never really, you know, before…"
He nodded. Of course he knew – he remembered. He had dragged these stories out of me before; how Dad would yell, flinging hurtful accusations and books or, sometimes, glass figures at us. I shuddered to remember when Ali had accidentally broken Mom's favorite figurine. That had been the first time.
And the worst.
But he'd never actually… hit her. On purpose.
"I don't even know why the fuck he was drinking again in the first place," I growled. That seemed like one more injustice on top of it all. Somehow he had recultivated the one habit that made him an even worse father than usual.
Jasper threw in comments here and there, and swept his thumb across the back of my hand in a steady, soothing pattern. His questions pulled more thoughts from the festering bog of my mind, freeing them to be contemplated by the both of us.
I usually preferred to keep all this shit in my head without burdening him or the Cullens, but he'd always inevitably coax it out of me. And, like most things I did with Jasper, I found that I felt better when it was done. We hadn't come to any conclusions this time, but I did feel better knowing he was mulling over the problems too.
When I'd finally gotten it all out I maneuvered onto my side, pulling my knees up between us.
Lying still on his grey checkered comforter, I eyed him like he was eyeing me. When I saw his gaze flit to my lips I stilled.
Part of me wanted to be kissing him, but the other part was getting kind of nervous. I mean, kissing was fine. Kissing was great. I wanted to keep kissing him forever, but that always lead to something else, and it was everything else that scared me. This wasn't like before. This was nighttime, and we were on a bed. His bed.
Things happened on beds, at night – unspoken, intimidating things – and I was suddenly reluctant to let anything besides our arms touch tonight.
I didn't make a move and neither did he so we eventually got ready for bed, him in his room and me in the bathroom. I decided to leave my shirt on over my boxers, as I sometimes did when it was cold, even though it wasn't hiding anything Jasper hadn't seen before.
He wore a shirt too.
He had already set my pillow on the left side of his bed, so I crawled under his covers awkwardly, resolutely staying on my own half. It was impossible to relax as I considered his proximity. I mean, he had basically told me to keep sleeping in his room. Did he think it'd be easier to keep kissing this way? Or did he have something else in mind, something more?
He flicked off the lights and I rolled to sleep on my stomach repeating to myself this is okay. This is just like before.
Barely a minute had gone by when I heard him shift, and felt his warm fingers on my side, over my shirt. I jumped as my muscles tightened involuntarily, and desperately squeezed my eyes shut. He stilled momentarily before sliding his hand across my back and gripping my other side.
My heart was already pounding and I gripped my pillow tightly in my hands. We were in unexplored territory now and I was silently coaching myself to tell him I wasn't ready for more, to try to explain it without hurting his feelings. I felt his body heat radiating against me, trapped under the covers, and I held my breath when he pulled me onto my side so that my back was facing him.
He didn't say a word, and neither did I. Even though I tensed, I felt his body slowly relax against mine as he let the full weight of his arm drape around my waist. I was wary but loosened up progressively the longer he stayed without moving. Eventually, I could feel his chest against my back when he took a breath, but that was it. I remembered my earlier thoughts about his hands on my body but instead of my usual embarrassing reaction I realized that this, just this, was actually kind of… nice.
His raspy whisper cut the silence. "Is this okay?"
My anxiety had subsided, slowly, and I reminded myself to breathe.
"Yeah."
In fact, now that we'd settled into it, having Jasper's arm around me was amazingly peaceful.
"Jasper?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad I'm here."
"Me too."
He lifted his head to place a soft kiss on the back of my shoulder, and a shiver ran down my spine. Even through my shirt I could feel the warmth he left there, and I thought to myself that it might actually be okay to wade further into this new territory, eventually. Just a little. Like if tomorrow he wanted to kiss me again, in bed, that might be okay too.
He settled his head on my pillow. "Goodnight, Edward."
"Night, Jas."
Review if you want Jasper to spoon with you too.
Alright, so I've been told that last chapter wasn't a lemon or even a lime, it was merely a Snapple.
In other news, I've finally got a beta! The wonderful Elvelethril has promised to help me make this story typo-free. That means I probably won't be sticking to my same weekly posting schedule, but I still won't go too long between updates. Also, I can't even tell you how much all your reviews help me plan my ideas, and motivate me to write. Really, they're invaluable, so keep 'em coming.
