A/N: There comes a point when you just have to fucking post.

Big thanks to Mopstyle, Allysue08, hexumhunnie311, and Darkira for the pre-reads/beta stuff.

The story continues in Jasper's POV. I've tried to follow a similar style, covering the big moments and skipping everything in between. Hopefully this provides a bit more resolution for you :)

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.

It's been five years since I've seen him. Five years since I've had to deal with feeling like this. A stray spotlight passes across his face and I know—I just know it's him. It's his jaw line, his bronze hair, and his pale skin. I was turning to leave before the strobe had a chance to confirm it.

Once I was outside the club, I made my way around the corner and slunk down against the wall while the shock kicked in.

Five years. Five fucking years. In that time I've racked up three more ex-girlfriends, seven trips to gay bars, had five blowjobs from strangers, and given one. Five years of guilt for dicking around my girlfriends and those strangers. I didn't even like those guys—I just wanted to feel that way, again.

And now what do I do? I'm sitting on the fucking sidewalk outside yet another bar and freaking out because he's inside. I wasn't looking for him, and in a way, I guess I hoped I'd never see him again. I don't want him to see me the way I am now—scared.

He looked a little different. His arms are covered in tatts, and there are other subtle differences that I can't quite pick. Maybe he's beefed up or his hair is longer, or maybe it's a lot of changes. He still looks like him though.

The thought of him scares me. He knows me. He's the one that started all this shit—that made me feel this way. It's always been easy to blame him, and I have, in spades.

If it wasn't for him, I don't think I ever would've had to deal with this shit. I would've found some small fucking pixie to suck my cock every day and I would've been happy. Now, whenever some bitch goes down on me, all I can think about is how it isn't as good. They have pointy little tongues and "no swallow" stances. His tongue moulded to me and he didn't hesitate when I came in his mouth.

My dick stiffened at the memory and as usual, my mind reeled from my reaction. I can't help but fight it—it's the way I was raised. It's just not the way things are done. So long as I can like women, then that's who I should be with.

I've spent five years going over this bullshit. It didn't work out with that chick because she complained too much, or with that other chick because she was clingy. At the end of the day, even I had to admit that I just wasn't attracted to them enough. But acknowledging that and following through on the alternative are two very different things. The few times I have considered having a man for a partner, all the road blocks freak me out. My parents. My grandparents! The guys back home. It all seems too hard.

I know I'm not ready for this.

With that thought, I picked myself up out of the gutter and grabbed the next cab back to my apartment.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

After I woke up, I blearily dragged myself to the bathroom, wishing I was still in bed. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw a tired man staring back. I slept badly last night, well, more like I hardly slept. Scenarios kept running through my head about what could've happened if I'd just had to balls to approach him. Then when sleep finally did find me, it wasn't any more forgiving. Edward's a frequent visitor to my dreams, but last night was even more vivid. My subconscious is cruel to me like that.

I've moved around a lot over the last five years, trying to find someplace where I could fit in. Jersey was a pot-shot. Sure, I realised that he was from here, and I'm not saying that didn't influence my decision, but I never expected to see him—especially not at that bar last night. I mean, what about his girlfriend? Is he completely like that now?

I couldn't get him out of my head. Last night, my thoughts were stuck on a constant mental loop of 'what ifs.' What if I had approached him? Would he have recognized me? Would he have tried anything with me? Would he hate me?

I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face. Like every morning, I use the freezing temperature to startle me out of those thoughts, the ones that plague me at night when I have no control over them.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

I spent the day keeping myself busy. To start with, I had a quick four hour shift on a fishing charter boat. She's a beautiful vessel—sixty feet of sleek fiberglass. Most of the cruise was spent hanging with the Captain in the bridge, chatting about the seaways so I could work on my local knowledge. I always felt more at home on the sea, and there's a certain camaraderie between sailors that you just don't find anywhere else. Edward and I shared it too.

We were friends first—good friends.

Maybe I just miss his friendship? Maybe that's why I can't stop thinking about him? If he's my friend then there's nothing wrong with me wanting to go and see him.

It'd be expected, right?

Once I decided on that, I hashed out a rough plan of going back to the club. I spent the rest of the cruise trying to concentrate on what the captain was saying, rather than thinking too much about what I would say to Edward.

There were a painful couple of hours that I wasn't able to fill with eating or zoning out watching TV; I was way too anxious for that shit. In fact, the only thing that made me feel any better was scotch. So, between finishing work and getting ready, I fretted over Glenfiddich. By the time I left the house, I had at least three under my belt and was feeling a lot better about things.

I caught a cab to Roman's at around 8pm. After the cabbie pulled up and I paid him through the window, he had the balls to eye me up. Despite being annoyed with his assumption that I'd touch him with a ten-foot fucking pole, it did reassure me that I looked all right. I ran my hands through my hair a few times before approaching the entrance. Slowly, I made my way past the beefy bouncer and into the club.

It was earlier tonight, so the light show hadn't started up yet and it wasn't jam-packed with writhing bodies. People were seated around tables and the music was loud, but not so loud you couldn't hear the barman ask for your order.

"Scotch, straight up," I told him. He winked at me in an obvious ploy to get a bigger tip. I ignored him and turned my back to the bar so I could look for the only man I was interested in tonight.

He wasn't there.

The barman placed my glass down with a heavy clunk so I turned back to pay. He'd been generous with the pour and as I glanced back up at him I reconsidered my earlier assumption that he was pretending to be interested in me. He bit down on his bottom lip and that was flirting if I ever saw it. I knocked back my scotch and asked for another.

Turning back to face the room, I felt nothing but disappointment. Edward not being here wasn't a scenario I'd considered, so I wasn't prepared for the letdown. The adrenaline that had coursed through my body all evening was petering out and leaving me feeling stupid and embarrassed. I figured I'd have a couple of drinks and just leave.

For the next hour I stayed at the bar and occasionally made small talk to the barman. As the scotch made its way into my system, my mood picked up. The light show had started and I watched as couples started kissing and feeling each other up. Every time the barman brought me another drink, I noticed his smile, and I was warming to the idea of taking him home with me. He was small, but he had nice lips and obviously found me attractive. Every scotch had at least an extra shot in it and he kept eyeing me whenever he got the chance. When I saw him lick his lips suggestively I decided it was definitely on. Who says no to a blowjob?

"Jasper?"

I turned on my stool and almost lost my balance from the surprise of finding Edward standing right next to me. The scotch that had been so comforting was now a big fucking impediment.

He looked shocked and concerned. "What are you doing here?" he asked me.

For some reason, I wasn't relieved to see him; I was annoyed. Here I was, happily drinking away and flirting with the barman and now he decides to show up.

"Drinking," I responded, being a bit of a prick. Edward looked hurt and I felt stupid for being rude to him. "Irr... moved here—"

"You're wasted," he interrupted me gruffly. "Come on." He pulled me off the stool and I stumbled along after him as he led me away from the bar.

"Where the fuck are you taking me?"

He stopped abruptly and turned around. "You're not gonna be Alec's bitch tonight. I'm taking you home before you get too blind to know what you're doing." He again grabbed my arm and continued to lead me through the club, despite my slurred attempts to stop him.

Once outside, the fresh air hit me and my head started spinning. He was right—I was wasted. I barely noticed him helping me into a waiting cab, too busy concentrating on trying not to heave.

"Where do you live?"

I groaned in response, so Edward fished around for my wallet. He found my license and told the cabbie where to go. The cab lurched forward and when my stomach held, I let myself relax a little.

The cab ride took twenty minutes. Every now and then I could see Edward watching me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn't look at him directly or talk to him the entire time. He paid the cabbie when we arrived and tried to help me out. I brushed him off, feeling irrationally angry with him over the whole thing.

"Fine." I heard him mutter.

I tried to walk as normally as possible but stumbled on the very first stair. Edward was right behind me and he steadied me by grabbing my waist. As I straightened up, I leaned into his grip a little, enjoying how his hands felt on my body for just a split second before continuing to climb the two flights to reach my apartment.

He followed me the whole way and I thought it was just to make sure I made it without breaking my neck. But then, as I was trying to open my door, he spoke, "Is it alright if I come in, to talk?"

This time I did glance up at him and looked into his eyes. Those fucking green eyes. Just above that beautiful cock-sucking mouth.

"Yeah," I said huskily, and was embarrassed by how obviously turned on I sounded. I looked back down and finished unlocking the door, definitely being too rough with the handle.

Edward followed me in and took a seat on the couch after declining my offer for a drink. I headed straight to the kitchen and downed two glasses of water, then poured another one to take with me when I went to join him.

In the brighter lights of my living room, I could really make out his tatts. Something about the style struck me.

"That's Em's work, yeah?" I said while looking at his arms.

"Yeah, it is. Not these though," he replied and gestured to his neck. I could just make out the edges of some design snaking up from his back. "There's a few more, too."

This was better—familiar territory. Tatts was one thing I knew.

"What else you got?"

He only hesitated for a split second before pulling his shirt up over his head. He had buffed up. His abs were way more defined now, and his arms. And his nipples were fucking pierced.

He started telling me about each of the new tatts he'd had done, explaining where and why. All I could see were the ones familiar to me already though. Remembering each time I'd run my hands over them or pressed my lips to them.

Before I thought about it, I launched myself at him, grabbing his face with my hand and kissing him roughly, running my other hand all over his back and his chest and his abs. Those fucking solid abs.

He didn't melt into me like I wanted him too. His lips didn't move and his hands didn't wander. Instead he was pushing me away.

"Jasper... you're drunk," he said against my lips.

I kept trying to kiss him for a few more seconds, but when it became clear he wasn't going to respond, I backed off, noticing how he almost looked angry.

Then the shame hit. He'd rejected me. I'd thrown myself at him and he didn't want me. I was too humiliated to stay sitting next to him, so I stood up and made my way down the hall toward my room.

"You don't have to fucking leave," he called out.

But I did—didn't he understand that? I ran my hands through my hair, yanking on tufts in frustration.

"This is such fucking bullshit," I muttered as I stomped to my room and slammed the door behind me.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The next morning, I woke up with a headache and a hefty dose of remorse. Tentatively, I made my way to the living room, wondering if maybe he stayed the night, but he was nowhere in sight. I sat down on the couch and replayed what I could remember back through my mind, cringing at all the stupid things I'd said and done. I'd been rude and then tried to kiss him. No wonder he didn't want anything to do with me.

I really tried to push those misery-inducing thoughts aside, but they kept coming back to me, making me groan at my idiocy again and again. The worst part was that I really wanted him in that moment, when I was kissing him. There were no reservations, no doubt. He felt so good, all firm and warm. And those abs.

My dick was stirring at the memory of running my hands over his defined mounds, so I pulled down my boxers and started stroking myself. I let my thoughts wander back to when Edward used to jerk me off and changed the image in my head so it was the Edward from last night doing it instead. I wanted more though, so I imagined him sucking my cock as I threaded my hands in his hair and pulled him down on me. I came not long after, then just sat there for a while with it all over me.

I went to the bathroom and cleaned up, this time noticing how flushed I looked in the mirror. Jerking off made my hangover feel better but also left me exhausted. I had nothing else to do today so I figured I'd go back to bed and sleep a bit longer, maybe even rub one out again. But I needed water first, so I made my way to the kitchen.

It was there I found the note on the counter, Edward's perfectly neat handwriting staring at me.

I stopped because I couldn't handle it if you regretted being with me again.

Call me when we can talk,

Edward. 555 3478

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

I didn't call him straight away. I ate breakfast and showered and stressed about whether I really wanted to put myself through that sort of shit. It was pointless though, of course I was going to fucking call him. I wanted to apologize, but more than that, it was becoming increasingly clear to me that I wanted Edward. At least for a bit.

Sitting at my small table, I fiddled with the note and my cell, while my leg bounced up and down quickly. Finally, I dialed the number that he'd left me and felt my hands clam up as I waited for him to answer.

"Hello."

"Hey, it's me... Jasper," I said unsteadily.

"Hey, you found my note?" He sounded friendlier than I expected.

"Ah, yeah. Um, I... I wanted to apologize, for last night."

"You were drunk. Don't even worry about it."

I exhaled in relief, thankful he wasn't giving me a hard time. "Yeah, well, sorry for being a drunk dick."

"It happens," he said and followed with a chuckle. "So, did you want to catch up? Maybe grab a coffee?"

"Um, yeah," I replied.

"When do you want to meet?"

I took a deep breath. "Now's good," I responded, feeling my heart starting to pound in my chest.

"Do you want to meet me? I'm not far from you and there's a coffee shop about halfway. Do you know Gina's? Little place—next to the drugstore?"

"Yeah, I know it."

"Okay, I'll see you there in about twenty." He made it so easy.

"All right... Bye."

I hung up the phone and sat in a surreal daze for a moment, half smitten, half freaked. What the fuck was I doing?

I grabbed my things and headed out the door.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Edward was already seated at a small table by the time I reached the coffee shop. He smiled at me, gesturing at the coffees in front of him. I headed toward him and started feeling even more nervous, wondering if maybe I should have just had him over to my apartment. Was a public coffee shop really the best place to have this conversation?

But the closer I got to Edward, the less room there was in my head for unnecessary stress. My mind was taking in all the little details about him I'd missed before because it had been too dark and I'd been too drunk. He always looked good, but somehow, the extra years had only made him look better.

"Hi," I said as I pulled out the chair to sit down across from him.

"How'd you pull up this morning?" he asked, an amused glint in his eyes.

"Not great," I admitted. "Feel a bit better now though." Edward passed a coffee to me and I added sugar before taking a sip.

"So, why did you move to Jersey?" he asked, his expression not unfriendly, but definitely serious.

"I wasn't stalking you or anything," I said, rolling my eyes for effect. "I just needed a change. An old friend used to work for a fishing charter company here and said they were always looking for people, so I thought I'd give it a go."

"Okay. So why were you at that bar?" He didn't need to say it—the implication was already loud and clear. What was I doing in a gay bar?

Considering I'd already tried to kiss the guy, I didn't see any point lying. "Sometimes I go to those places."

He looked at me skeptically. "So, you're still not gay, huh?"

"Not really, no." Now I had a reason to feel guilty. If I wasn't gay, why would I try to kiss him? I could see the disappointment on his face, the same as it was all those years ago when I left. He looked like he felt used. "It's not like that, I just... I'm still not real comfortable with this stuff." I exhaled in frustration. Edward didn't push me. He just sat there waiting. "Are you?" I asked, just as curious about his sexuality.

"Gay? Or comfortable?"

"Both... I guess."

Edward sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I'm comfortable. And I'm open about my sexuality."

What the fuck does that mean?

"So, you're bi?" I asked, more than a little confused. If he wasn't gay why was he at a gay bar?

"That's probably the easiest way to explain it." He picked up his cup and drank some more. He was wearing a sweater today so I could only see the very tip of the tattoos on his neck. The sweater changed his appearance completely; he looked like he could be some preppy guy in a Calvin Klein ad.

"So, you like chicks, still?" I clarified.

He shrugged. "Sometimes. But it's usually guys." He blushed a little as he stared at his coffee. "How often do you go to those bars?"

It was my turn to look down. "Not often. I went the first time after I broke it off with a girl, probably about three years ago. Then it was a couple of times every year. I just wanted to... see, you know?"

Edward nodded like he understood.

"What happened with your girlfriend?" I asked him.

He tilted his head back and grinned. "Ah... Bella. I was going to break it off. But after I told her about everything she thought we could keep it together if we tried 'other' things." He scoffed at the memory. "It lasted another few months but it never really worked. We still see each other occasionally—just as friends, though."

Well, now I knew what happened with her.

"I guess it's a bit of a coincidence, us running into each other last night. Small world, yeah?" Edward mused while smiling at me.

My expression gave away my guilt.

"What?" he asked

"About that... I actually went there last night looking for you. The night before, I was horny and... well, I'd gone there looking for anyone. But then I walked in and saw you, and freaked the fuck out. So I left."

Edward looked hurt again.

"It's not like that, I just... Fuck." I shook my head in frustration. "It was a shock, that's all. But then I thought about it and realized I did want to see you. Even just to talk..." I trailed off under his intense stare.

"So last night?" he prompted.

"Last night, I was interested in finding you." I left it at that, not really sure of what else I should say and stared at the table.

"But it wasn't just to talk?"

I sighed in frustration. "Fuck, I don't know."

"Jasper, you gotta tell me. I spent years pining after you and now you show up, in a fucking gay bar of all places. You kiss me and storm off when I don't take advantage of you. What is going through your head?"

I looked back up at him and swallowed. Could I really tell him?

"I like you," I said quietly. "And I want you. But then sometimes I wonder if I'd ever be struggling with this if I never met you and I resent you." His face fell. "I'm sorry, alright, but it's true. I don't handle this well like you do—"

"I haven't always handled it well. I just told you I spent months in a relationship I knew wasn't working, just to 'see' if it'd get better. And I did it because I knew that if I could just make it work, life would be so much fucking easier." He paused while he contemplated his coffee. "Eventually, you realize constraining yourself like that isn't easy."

Well, that hit home.

There were times I wish I could just think about him and not feel the guilt. That I could imagine living the way he does without feeling like I would be doing something wrong. Did Edward ever feel like that?

"Whenever I think about... being that way, there's always this feeling that it's wrong. Like I think of what my parents expect from me and how I know I like tits, and... I just can't see how it could be the right thing for me."

He smiled at me, almost like he was proud of what I was saying. "It takes a little adjusting to get used to it, but eventually you get there."

He definitely seemed to be coping all right.

"Edward, do you still like tits?" I asked, interested to see how much he'd had to adjust. I was pretty sure I didn't want to stop liking tits.

He laughed. "Yes, sometimes I do like tits. But for me it's more about the person than the appendage." And then he winked.

The part of my brain that had been panicking about the way I was pursuing Edward calmed down after he said that. I was attracted to him as a person, not just because he was a man. And I wasn't attracted to the girls I dated because they were pissy bitches, not because I stopped liking tits. It made sense.

He seemed to sense my resolution. "Once you open yourself up to it, then you realize there's nothing wrong with feeling like this." As if to punctuate his point he reached across the table and placed his hand on mine. His touch felt nice, and I didn't even care that he was doing it in public. I moved my hand so I was holding his, and he was right—it didn't feel wrong.

He let go of me shortly after, probably not wanting to push me too far, and by that stage my palm was pretty sweaty so I was thankful. We finished our coffees and then Edward walked me back to my apartment, all the while catching up on the last few years. When we got to my place he didn't leave me out the front, but followed me up the stairs. As I climbed the two flights I could feel my heart banging in my chest and knew I was scared of what he wanted. But when we reached my door all he did was ask if he could call me sometime. After I said "sure" he leaned in and quickly kissed me on the cheek before turning and leaving.

In a way I was relieved, 'cause I was no longer sure if my heart was still banging from being scared, or from that tiny little kiss.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Edward called me the next day to ask me to come over to his place on Monday for dinner—takeout, 'cause he said he can't cook for shit. I agreed to go and asked if I should bring some beer. He said 'yes,' but asked that I not drink any before getting there. It was a fair call.

Over the next few days, I thought a lot about what Edward had said and how my life could have been a whole lot fucking easier over the last five years if I hadn't been constantly fighting myself. I wouldn't have wasted so much time trying to make it work with those girls, trying to convince myself that I felt more for them then I did. And I could've avoided the clandestine trips to gay bars and the guilt and shame for using faceless strangers to get the release I'd wanted. Edward's words made a lot more sense than the last five years of my life.

But the thing I thought about the most was Edward. I knew I was interested in him, but was he still interested in me? And if I knew I was interested, why was I scared? It's not like we hadn't done all that stuff already, and I trusted him. I didn't understand why I was reacting this way.

By the time Monday rolled around, I still had no idea why my body and my head couldn't get it together. Edward gave me his address and it was a short walk so I set out on foot. About half way there it started again, my heart banging harder than it normally does. And that's when I finally understood—I was nervous. It wasn't fear at all, well, not fear of Edward. I was scared of how things were going to go, not terrified of letting them happen.

Edward also lived in an apartment, though a much nicer one than mine. I knocked on the door and listened to his footsteps as he approached.

"Hey, Jasper," he greeted as he opened the door with a big friendly grin.

"Hi," I replied.

He stepped aside to let me in and as I went to pass him he again planted a quick kiss on my cheek. I wasn't prepared for it so he kind of got my ear. I smiled apologetically, but then noticed Edward's bright eyes and didn't feel too embarrassed. He closed the door and led me down a long hall to a large living area. There were a couple of black leather couches around a large coffee table topped with boxes of Chinese food. Edward took the beer off me and gestured for me to take a seat.

His couch was really fucking comfortable.

"I didn't know what you'd like so I got a bit of almost everything," he yelled from what I assumed was the kitchen. Then he was back in the room with me, holding out an opened beer for me to take.

"Thanks," I said as he clinked his bottle against mine.

He gave me another of those excited smiles. "Thanks," he replied as he gestured with his beer.

The food looked and smelled delicious so I tucked in, thankful that Edward had ordered so much. We talked when our mouths weren't full of food and I found out that Edward was a pretty busy guy. He worked as a bartender a few nights a week at the club where I first saw him and played guitar in a band whenever they could get gigs. He was also studying to become a counselor, which suited him, I thought.

I told him about the places I'd lived and the reasons why I'd left them. And he understood.

When we'd finished we were both full and relaxed, lounging on his couch and reminiscing about some of the guys we'd worked with.

I guess it started gradually, Edward moved closer to me as he reached for the egg rolls, and then I had to get closer to the noodles. I'd tried not to notice, thinking that if I thought to hard about it, I'd get all nervous again. But then, after we'd finished eating, Edward reached across the small space between us and grabbed my hand, a move so direct that it took me a little by surprise.

"Jasper, do you think you could... would you be interested in seeing me?" he asked nervously.

I thought about everything that had gone through my head over the last few days and remembered that I wanted to be open to this. It's why I was here. So I sucked up my own nerves.

"I'd like to try."

He smiled in relief and then moved himself even closer. I felt like my chest was gonna explode and kind of froze. Then he leaned in kissed me on my lips.

All that time Edward and I spent together at sea had been pretty awkward. It was usually rushed, and in that tiny cabin, it was never comfortable. And for me at least, everything we did was always tinged by my apprehension. Edward hardly ever just kissed me on the lips. And never like this.

This was slow. And on this huge leather couch—it was comfortable. And this time, I was eager.

I kissed him back, moving my lips and tongue against his, getting hard from Edward's staggered breaths against my mouth and my neck. Steadily, I eased him back with pressured kisses so that we were lying on the couch together, making out like teenagers. He was such a great kisser—the best I'd ever had—and that reminded me of how great his mouth felt on my cock. After a minute I couldn't stand it anymore and pressed my hard on against him.

"Fuckkk," he groaned and then reciprocated briefly before pulling his hips away. His kisses stopped, too.

"What's wrong?" I panted, aroused and slightly panicked.

He was getting his own breath under control. "I don't want to rush things," he finally answered.

"You're kidding, right? We have done this before." I reminded him of that by licking him behind the ear the way he liked. This really wasn't the time for taking things slow.

He squirmed a little. "I just don't want you to regret this. If we move too fast then you might freak out."

"I'll regret it more if my dick explodes," I murmured against his neck.

That made him laugh and he kissed me back when I returned my mouth to his. But after a moment, he pulled away again and stared me straight in the eye. "Are you sure?"

Needing to convince him I told him how sure I was, trying to put every ounce of all the feelings I had for Edward into the look I gave him.

He must have seen something in that look that he liked, 'cause he went straight back to making out, only now his lips were turned up in a grin.

That night, Edward and I jerked each other off right there in his lounge room next to the leftover Chinese food.

And I resolved to get one of those easy-clean leather couches.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The next few weeks revolved around work and spending time with Edward. Weekends were usually spent apart; I always had longer day shifts with the charter company and Edward worked late at the bar. Even finding time to be together during the week was difficult, but we managed.

Most of the time, we met just for lunch or a quick drink and we were hardly ever physical with each other. Edward didn't kiss me while we were out in public, but I didn't really mind. I probably wasn't ready for that anyway.

When I was home by myself, I kept thinking. It was a lot easier to be with Edward when I was actually with him. Sitting alone in my apartment, sometimes I'd still wonder if I was doing the right thing. I knew Edward was planning on taking me out as soon as we had the chance. And I knew he was taking me to a bar and that we'd be seen as a couple. I was still trying to psych myself up for it.

It was a Thursday night that we were both finally free with nothing to do the next morning. Edward knocked on my door to pick me up. When I opened it he kissed me hello, unmistakably excited about the night ahead. He was dressed in a tight T-shirt and jeans—nothing too out there—but it showed off his body to full effect. I wondered if I was going to have to worry about other guys hitting on him.

"You ready?" he asked me.

"Yeah, just let me grab my things," I said and turned toward the kitchen. Edward followed me, closing the door behind him. I found my wallet and keys and shoved them into my pockets. Then turned back to find Edward looking like he was going to fucking eat me.

He stepped forward and really kissed me then, running his hands over my back and my ass, pulling my hips into his. His hand snaked down between us and he roughly stroked my cock through my jeans. "I want you," he growled quietly.

I couldn't help it—I pushed into him. Edward was always pretty clear about his intentions when we were fooling around before. He'd get all handsie and shit, trying to tell me what he was going to do. He was making it pretty clear that we were going to be doing more tonight.

His kisses were deep and fucking sexy, like he was starving for me, and that was a complete turn on. My hands went up into his hair and onto his ass, and I pushed him toward the wall, squeezing right up against him.

"We'd better go," he panted against my lips.

"We'll just stay here," I muttered back, barely comprehensible as my mouth was still all over his.

He reached behind me again and gave my ass a good hard squeeze before gently pushing me away.

"Later. Right now, we need to do this." He gave me one last quick kiss before leading me out the door. Fucking cockblocker.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

It was a different club that he was taking me to. We arrived and I was surprised by how busy it was considering it wasn't really late yet. The dance floor was crowded with people, not all of them men, and the loud beat of the music coupled with the lights made the moving bodies hypnotic. Edward held my hand and led me over to the bar where he ordered two beers. Once he had them, he gave me one and then wrapped his free arm around my waist while he surveyed the room.

"Over there," he yelled over the top of the music and gestured to a free table not too far from the dance floor. I nodded and again he took my hand and led me. I gripped on to his and tried not to notice how many of the patrons were checking him out.

We sat down in chairs next to each other, facing the writhing mass of bodies, and he continued to hold my hand under the table. I gave him a smile, letting him know I was okay and then turned back to the dance floor and openly stared.

People—a lot of people—were moving together. Hands were groping and mouths were kissing and bodies were grinding. There were guys and girls, and girls and girls, and guys and guys. I watched them all.

Not one of them looked to have any inhibitions about what they were doing, like they had completely given themselves over to the music and the way their bodies felt. It was like watching soft porn, and my dick was reacting exactly the same way. I put my beer down so I could adjust myself under the table and I saw Edward look at me from the corner of my eye.

He leaned in close to my ear. "They're giving in to their desires. Nothing else matters here." His eyes looked black from the dark lighting. He looked more turned on than I was.

We finished our beers, watching and rubbing our hands together. When we were finished, he pulled me up and toward the dance floor. I wasn't much of a dancer and under any other circumstances he would never get me to go. But right then, I wanted nothing more than to move with Edward like the others were moving with each other.

He took me right into the midst where it was the most crowded and started running his hands up and down my chest, a lot slower than the beat. I did the same with my hands on his back, but also felt his ass. We were getting pressed together by the crowd and eventually, we were just touching in any way would could. Our cheeks were pressed together and I could feel his hot, heavy breathing against my ear.

It was the sound of desire.

I couldn't get close enough to him but that didn't stop me from trying. In my lust-addled brain, I think I understood now why he wanted to bring me here. I needed a place where I could just want him, without having to worry about all the other shit. Here, I was free to want him and felt no reservations about showing it. Everyone in this place was doing exactly the same thing—expressing their desire.

We stayed on the dance floor for over an hour. And when we finally left, we made our way to his car as quickly as possible. It was like we'd just had an hour of the best foreplay imaginable. My whole body was pulsating with how much I wanted him—really wanted him.

He couldn't drive fast enough.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

We crashed through my door, unable to keep our hands off each other long enough get it open properly. While we kissed, I made an effort to kick it shut but wasn't willing to break contact to check if it worked.

I had him up against a wall—the same way we'd always had to make-out when we were at sea—when I realized we didn't have to be like that. I could have him in my bed. And I really wanted him in my bed. He grunted at me when I pulled away but eased up when he realized where I was headed.

We stripped our clothes whilst still maintaining some form of contact. Shirts went first, then shoes, socks, belts. Finally, jeans came off and I groped him through his boxers before pushing him back on to the bed.

We made out for a few more minutes and I kept waiting for Edward to move things forward; that's how it always was before. But he just kept kissing me and grinding against me the same way I was with him. Then I remembered how worried he'd been about pushing me too fast. He was waiting for me to tell him I wanted to move things forward.

I rubbed against him and felt him against my skin and wanted—really wanted—his cock in my mouth. I kissed across his chest, stopping to suck on his piercings, then made my way down his stomach, feeling the muscles tense as he no doubt realized what I was doing. He tried to pull me back up but I swatted his hand away.

"Let me," I grunted, then ran my tongue up his abs. I kissed my way back and then adjusted myself so I was on all fours, staring at his dick in front of me, then I looked up to him. He was flushed and his chest was heaving.

"You don't have to..."

I grinned. "It's not my first." He had just enough time to register the surprise on his face before I took him into my mouth, groaning against him and finally releasing some of the pent up desire I'd been carrying around for the last two hours. Edward stammered a sigh and thrust into me involuntarily.

As I moved, sucking him in and releasing him, the sounds he made got me so freaking hard, I had to reach down and awkwardly stroke myself. I used my tongue to lick him and my lips to squeeze him, trying to find what he liked the most, but that seemed to be everything so I just let myself go, doing what felt right.

And it did feel right. Every moan and grunt that came from him made me want to do more, so I let go of my own dick and instead touched him wherever I could. As my hand trailed up his abs he grabbed it with his own hand and squeezed, letting me feel him losing control.

He was getting closer, his pants shorter and sharper, his hips jolting slightly every time I went down. He started squeezing my hand even harder, tugging to let me know he was coming. I smiled to myself as I gave him everything I had. He gave one last grunt as the last of his control vanished and he came.

I had to remove him to swallow properly but then gave him one last suck before sitting back on my heels. Edward was yet to move and I was pretty fucking impressed with my efforts. I didn't feel dirty or seedy, nothing like the last time I gave head to a guy. This felt right, like I was giving him what we both wanted.

"That was fucking incredible," he muttered and it went straight to my cock. Finally, he opened his eyes and then lifted himself up so he was sitting next to me. He gave me his most loving kiss yet before manoeuvring us around so that he could lay me down beneath him. His lips followed a similar course to the one mine had taken on his body and by the time he reached my cock, I was heaving with desire.

He licked my full length and then proceeded to give me the most mind-blowing head I'd ever received. When he'd finished we fell asleep together in my bed. It was the first time we'd ever spent the whole night in each other's arms.

The last remaining doubt I had that this was what I wanted disappeared that night. Now, I doubted I'd ever want anything else again.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

"Can you make it more masculine? Like, less curvy and shit?"

"What if we go with this one?"

The tattooist showed me another design that looked a lot like a couple of ropes joined with reef knots. It was perfect: symbolic, subtle, and even nautical.

"Yeah, that's the one."

He looked pleased I'd finally made up my mind and set about tracing the design on my arm. I hadn't gotten a new tattoo ever since I left the cargo ship, so I was a bit concerned this one was going to hurt like a motherfucker.

Getting this tattoo was something I'd been considering for a while now, trying to think of the best way to go about it.

I wanted to show him what he meant to me.

At first, I'd considered getting his name somewhere, but that never really sat right with me. It would look out of place, and I was pretty sure I'd be too embarrassed to even show him. So then I'd looked into other ways to express what I felt, something more symbolic, but everything I found was either too clichéd or would make me look like a total pussy.

The knots though... at first they just reminded me of Edward's tattoos, especially the first Celtic one he got while we were at sea. But then I read about the love knot and how it represents the endless bond between two lovers. It was the right kind of thing.

I gritted my teeth against the pain of the needle. It was bearable though, and after a few moments I was able to block it out.

Edward and I had been together for almost a year now, and this was my effort to commemorate that. We hadn't moved in together or anything, but I was pretty sure that wasn't too far away. I'd spent almost every night at his place and we'd been serious for about nine months of that year.

I'd told my mom that I was seeing a guy and she'd pretended to understand, then told me it may be best if we didn't mention it to Dad just yet. It had annoyed me, but not because I was pissed off with my dad; it was because I wanted people to know—I didn't want to hide how I felt about Edward. Mom seemed to think it was just a phase that I was going through and that it'd pass, so why upset Dad in the meantime? Edward had told me I shouldn't fight with her over it, and that in a few years, she'd probably come around. I'd scoffed at the irony of how we'd both be waiting each other out.

The way I felt about Edward was more than I'd felt for anyone before. He has this easy-going nature that I'm attracted to, and he never lets anything be more complicated than it needs to be. He guided me through every bad experience and always made me feel like we were worth it.

This is why I needed to show him.

When the tattooist finished, I looked down at the rope knot around my arm and was struck by the ordinariness of it. It didn't seem like enough to show him how I felt. And would he even get it? A feeling that I'd just done something really stupid came over me.

After the dressing was applied, I carefully pulled on my long-sleeve shirt before heading home. In the back of my mind, I was coming up with excuses for my sudden urge to get inked.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

"Mexican?"

"Nah. Pizza?"

"We had pizza three nights last week." He said it like it was a bad thing. I shrugged my shoulders and turned back to the TV.

"Fine—pizza. But next week I'm hitting You Tube and learning how to cook."

An amused snort escaped me. I'd give him two days before he chucked it in. We'd tried to do the happy couple thing, hanging out and cooking together at the start of our relationship. But there was no denying it—we really couldn't cook for shit.

"You don't think I can do it, do you?" He came up from behind and wrapped his arms around me. I winced from the contact with the fresh tattoo I'd gotten and he noticed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I've just got a sore arm." I tried to shrug out of his embrace. Edward wasn't having that and he ran his hand—gently—over the area and felt the dressing through my shirt.

"What happened? Show me," he said as he started lifting up my sleeve. It briefly occurred to me to feign an injury, but he'd see it eventually, and by then he'd already recognized the dressings for what they were. "You got a new tatt? What'd you get?" He stopped pulling up my sleeve and was instead lifting the hem of my shirt up. I helped him get it off.

"I just felt like getting another rope, so I went in today..." I trailed off.

He carefully unstuck one edge and pulled it back, revealing the still slightly reddened skin around the newly darkened lines. He stared at it for what felt like minutes before he finally reacted.

"Did you mean this... that way?" His eyes held that same excitement he often got around me, but they were cautious, too.

My chest ached a little as I realized I should never have doubted he'd recognize the symbolism. Edward was covered in Celtic tatts.

"Yeah," I said, and braced myself for his reaction.

"Are you sure?" he asked me earnestly.

"I'm sure."

His face broke into an enormous smile and he grabbed on to mine, cradling it in both his hands. "I love you," he said, not a trace of caution left.

I never thought hearing the words from him would be that big a deal. He'd almost said it so many times, always stopping himself before it happened though. Now the words had finally left his lips, I realized he'd just been waiting for me to say it first.

"I love you," I said, trying it on. It wasn't so bad and was even kind of nice, even if I did feel like a bit of a pussy.

He all out grinned now. "Fuck dinner," he said and brought his face to mine, kissing my lips and squeezing my cheeks like he never wanted to let me go.

He led me to the bedroom, unbuttoning his own shirt as we went. By the time we were next to the bed all our other clothes were stripped and strewn throughout the hallway. He lay down first, bringing me down on top of him and we continued kissing.

I hadn't been nervous about sex with Edward since the first time we'd done it as a couple. He'd showed himself to be great lover, so there was never any need to be. But all of a sudden, I realized this was the first time we were going to 'make love' and I felt the nerves stirring.

"It doesn't change anything," he whispered against my ear, as if he could sense what I was thinking.

I made my way down his body, kissing him and then stopping only briefly to take the lube he was passing me. He stared at me with that big grin on his face while I spread the lube around. Who would've known that just saying the words would make him so freaking happy? I slipped the first finger inside him to take the grin off his face and then started giving him head while I prepared him. He was breathing heavily, like it wouldn't take him long, so I stopped sucking on him, but kept moving my fingers, carefully stretching him. When he was ready, I added more lube to my hand and stroked myself while admiring the man laid out before me, his desire and want evident on his face and his beautiful erect cock. I couldn't help myself and took him into my mouth again, bringing him back to grunts before I pulled away and gradually entered him.

I moved slowly to begin with and we stared at each other intensely, sharing the heat of our attraction. Eventually, we both needed more and I let myself go, thrusting as deep as I could go, Edward meeting every single one. We moved together, desperately kissing to try and gain more contact. When we weren't kissing, he was gazing at me like I was his life, and I'm pretty sure I was looking at him the same way. Once I was close, I gave him room to reach between us and he began pumping his cock, the sight of which always made me come. I released into him as he came all over himself, and then I collapsed.

I panted for a few minutes, still awed by the rush of having his eyes looking at me that way. "It does change," I mumbled into his chest. "It's better." With my last bit of energy I pulled myself up and kissed him again.

We lay in each other's arms until we'd recovered enough. Then we showered and Edward carefully cleaned my new tatt for me, even applied the cream. When we'd finished, we ordered pizza and then ate it together on his big comfy leather couch; two men afloat on a sea of reciprocated love.

A/N: Ahhh. I hope it wasn't too cheesy.

I'm officially whoring myself out for The Fandom Gives Back author auction. I'm not sure if I'll be listed as MySlashyFriend or Frenchbeanz, but once I know, I'll link it on my profile.

You'll find more info here as it becomes available: www[DOT]thefandomgivesback[DOT]com/

What I'm auctioning off: a single one-shot of at least 4k. Any rating, any pairing, can be vamp or AH. You can also request an outtake, continuation or other POV from any of my stories. So, pretty much anything, yes? I'm easy like that.

It's all for a good cause so come along and bid, then make me do your bidding ;)