Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot down below... it's fan fiction. Hah.
Warning: This is slash. Meaning. Men. I think it's angsty and hawt. You might disagree. If so, please don't read. Thankzeesoverymuch.
A/N: Okay, this was post for the Friday Free for All over on Twi like end of July or so. The FFFA is a weekly one-shot series by different authors that is either going to be a threesome, some sub/dom, slash, or some other non vanilla lemons. You can read more, if you'd like: www(dot)twilighted(dot)net/viewstory(dot)php?sid=4327&textsize=0&chapter=18
My thanks on this one goes to my fellow debauched explorer in HP slash, the maleficent and brilliant gallantcorkscrews. She unwound the twisted sentences and forked away the bad imagery in this one, so a thousand thank yous to her. And my final thx to the Third Angsty Goddess, fixer of typos and lover extraordinaire of the Jaspard.
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Ready or Not...
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Edward noticed it when Emmett stopped making the jokes.
Not at first.
But over a period of months.
Emmett used to make jokes like that all the time—never mean jokes, just those comments that teenage boys tend to make in a group. The regular jesting: fake kissy-kisses or "Stop ogling his ass, Crowley!" or crotch grabbing-all in a dopey display of masculinity.
Around the same time that Emmett stopped making jokes, their mom started asking questions. She would set down the wash and ask, "Are you doing anything this weekend? Going out with anyone? Anyone you like?"
And she never asked "what girl" or anything like that. Always "gender neutral."
It was weird.
And Edward wasn't ready.
So after senior year, Edward got on the plane.
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A summer in Mexico was supposed to be a reprieve: a chance to read books, dote on miscellanea on the internet, and bump up the Spanish comprehension.
It took him twelve seconds after setting down the suitcase in his new host family's home to realize that wasn't going to happen.
Because Jasper Whitlock had to fucking introduce himself.
"Ho-laaah, bienvenidos a México-nuestra host mom es una beeyatch, pero la comida es muy deliciosa," he drawled in a sarcastic, playful, and undeniably Texan tone.
Edward tried to laugh, but the laugh caught short because Jasper was gazing at him in a way that was anything but heterosexual. It caused a lump to roll up in Edward's throat.
"You're homesick already," Jasper said, his eyes assessing, and then he fucking grinned. "Oh, and my room's right down the hall."
"Oh, right. " His returning look was weak, Edward knew. The muscles in his face felt numb. Like pushing mud.
Jasper smirked in response-at Edward's obvious discomfort. Then, Jasper cocked his head to the side, his tongue touching the bottom of his top row of teeth, and then he smiled, a wry look taking over whatever had been remotely compassionate in his prior thinking. "Why so shy?" he teased. "...y cuando tienes un cuerpo como esto..."
"I have a girlfriend," Edward blurted.
"Course you do," Jasper laughed as he winked. Then he walked away.
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Classes started. Edward avoided Jasper at every opportunity. At the house, he ate quickly at meals-or as quickly as you could at a Mexican meal. He locked his door and went to bed early. But still, they were in a university program, so they spent time together.
Everyone in their program loved Jasper. Fucking loved him.
Even the straight guys. They thought he was hilarious. He seemed to make them comfortable-like they'd known him all their lives. And it didn't hurt that Jasper was so fucking attractive that even the straight guys knew that they were probably not in his league.
And the students went out on weekend excursions as part of the program.
Edward went because... well, there was no because.
Edward just went.
Most of the students would drink. Spill the tequila down their throats until it came back up with irrational hoots or unexpected sexual aggression or vomit.
Edward avoided all three.
But Edward did find himself holding Jessica's hair while she puked into the hotel toilet on their second weekend out.
And then over his shoulder, Edward saw Jasper... Jasper standing still while Mike-fucking-Newton sauntered up to him and decided to test out his bisexuality-Jasper, laughing lazily when (supposedly straight) Newton pressed up against him and flattened both palms against Jasper's chest.
Edward jerked his head away.
Like Jessica, Edward wanted to vomit, too.
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Jasper was flopped back in the armchair, legs crossed so that the mahogany dust on his shoe soles was visible for all the world to see. "Stop staring, Cullen," he taunted without looking up from his book.
"You really are that arrogant," Edward spat, stopping his search through the magazines on the table to glare at Jasper through the cover of his book.
Jasper lowered the book. "Some people have a reason to be arrogant."
Edward rolled his eyes, shook his head and returned to his search.
"You have a reason to be arrogant," Jasper murmured.
"But I'm not."
Jasper chuckled. "No, you have your balls in a vise, instead."
Edward snapped his head up. "Oh, so sucking off every dick that crosses your path is something to be proud of?"
Jasper's mouth opened, and then he bit his cheek, the threat of a laugh shaping his open mouth. "Cullen, you've got it all wrong."
"Right, so going into the bathroom stall with Newton was to play cards, was it?"
"Oh, I never said I didn't do anything with Newton—or anyone else—but you said I sucked them—but that's not true, not at all. That's not how I play. I don't suck them—they suck me."
Edward stared at Jasper through gritted teeth and tried to ignore the yo-yo of hot and cold in his middle. And then Edward gave a disgusted scoff, snatched up a random magazine without looking, and left the room.
On his way out, Edward heard Jasper give a loud and exaggerated sigh.
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They went to Mexico City, and Edward let his guard down.
Edward let his guard down because Jasper ran off with María and Rosa, and Edward was safe with Jessica and Angela at the club.
And Edward drank.
The first few shots were followed by lots of eye blinking and spins of the head.
By the third shot Edward was squeezing a lemon onto the arm of a laughing Jessica, sprinkling salt, and licking up in a longer than necessary line before throwing back the sparkling gold liquid.
And then they had visitors join their table.
The visitors were studying in Puebla, or so they said.
One of them sat down immediately next to him.
"Seth," he introduced himself.
Two minutes later, and Edward was licking salt and lemon off of Seth's arm.
Twenty minutes later, and they were in darkest and emptiest part of the bar, behind a column and a cardboard Corona ad, and Edward was pushed into the column, and Seth's fingers were clawing at fabric until they met skin, and Edward was pulling his mouth up to meet Seth's because he tasted sweet like rum and apple, and Edward figured why the fuck not? He would never see him again.
Seth's hand yanked at his jeans button.
It was loose already, so it went flying.
And then Seth's hand shoved down, pushing open the zipper as it went, fumbling past the thin barrier of boxers and then sliding sweaty fingers onto Edward's—
And then both Seth and his fingers were gone from Edward.
A figure was looming over Seth.
Motherfucking Jasper.
Jasper was yelling. Edward couldn't make out the words at first until Edward caught Seth's reply. A simple "What the fuck, man?"
Edward was fiddling with his pants and pulling down his shirt, but Jasper's eyes were tracing every movement...
And then Jasper looked down at Seth and in a low voice, he punctuated every syllable, "Edward said that he has agirlfriend, you little fucker." And the way he said "girlfriend," there was a second implication to it.
Seth pushed off the floor. With a final, irritated glance, he pushed past Jasper and left.
And then it was just Jasper.
"Why?" Edward demanded.
Jasper didn't say anything at first. He just gazed at Edward through slightly gritted teeth. But then he spoke. "You, Cullen, are drunk off your ass."
"That's none of your business," he tried to argue, but it came out as more of a plea, because Jasper was stepping closer to him.
"Oh, Cullen..." he groaned.
Edward was drunk, but he didn't like the look on Jasper's face—like he was torn between pity and anger. He wanted neither of those. Edward pushed Jasper away from him. "Whatever the fuck you're doing—no. We have to leave in less than an hour."
And then he turned on his heel and left.
Edward made sure to take his cab home with Angela.
She was safe.
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The program's next trip took the students to an hacienda somewhere near Tlaquepaque. The sky was a watery blue above. The earth was red. Most of the grass was half-dead. Only an occasional copse of cacti, row of irrigated agave, or weather-rotted fence interrupted the surrounding vistas.
They arrived and were given a tour.
Halfway through, their tour paused at an old adobe brick stable.
There was a hatch to the top floor, but the iron ladder had broken a few months back. Their guide said that whoever could manage to get up there could look around.
Newton tried to lift himself up but failed.
The three girls were too short.
Edward put one hand on either iron rung and pulled myself up with first his shoulders and then his stinging biceps. Edward relaxed when his butt reached the edge above and then leaned back and pulled away from the edge.
Cheney's head bobbed up. But then fell.
Edward heard laughter from below.
With arms like that, he was never going to make it...
But then a sandier head of hair emerged, followed by the wide arc of broad shoulders and arms that flexed and unflexed with silent grace.
A clap or two sounded from below.
Jasper scooted to the side wall on the stone story.
"Any other takers?" Jasper called down.
The tour guide, Francisco, called up, "Eh, no. You two, look around if you want, we're a'goin to the chapel."
And then there was the padding of light steps and the disappearing of voices.
Edward could hear Jasper's breathing as he stood, still slightly exerted from the climb. Jasper righted himself and walked over to the far end of the barn, ducking beneath old beams until he reached the window. He looked out at the landscape.
Edward walked over. He came up silently behind Jasper.
For a minute they just looked out at the sloping hills, the almost-mountains.
Jasper broke the quiet. "I can leave if you'd prefer."
Edward shook his head.
Jasper nodded, and then he turned back to the window. "So, what's your deal anyway? Crazy family? Lose your college fund if your dad finds out you like hairy chests?"
Edward stared down at the floor, and then he whispered, "No—I just wasn't ready."
Jasper didn't move, but he asked, "So, what the fuck was that in the capitol?"
"Too much tequila."
"Ah."
More silence.
And then Jasper asked, "So, what about now?"
Edward didn't say anything. He closed his eyes and listened to the silence of the barn and the sweep of the wind. But then he heard it, the subtle scrape of shoes rotating and stepping on old boards.
Edward opened his eyes.
Jasper was there, an arm's reach away—an arm's grab away.
Jasper was all there. Tan, cinnamon skin that came to sudden depths beneath his cavernous cheek bones. The subtle creases across his brow that ended at a coast of soft yellow-hued like sweet corn—but that faded into the wheat-blond farther back, and then his too-long bangs that scraggled down over his forehead. There was the soft slope of his nose and his pleasant, oval nostrils—they were flaring slightly. His breathing was... his breathing was predatory.
And then Edward finally really looked. He met the slate gaze. Edward only realized how long he'd been staring when the twin circles of blue-grey flashed, and the black centers seemed to radiate outward—and then his own eyes were so close to Jasper's that he couldn't make them out anymore—they faded out, unfocused ...
"Say 'no,' if you're going to say it," Jasper commanded, and then he grabbed Edward by the jaw.
Edward let out a muzzled croak, an utterance that was split between cock and brain.
Jasper pressed harder on his jaw, digging his thumb in as if to make him speak.
Edward tried to get away, pushing against Jasper, but instead his back-step took him flush with the wall.
And Jasper slammed into him, his right hip bone bruising as it hit hard against Edward's stomach. Jasper's nails dug into his palms and in the gullies between his fingers. Jasper used even his teeth and forehead to push against Edward's face, to push Edward's right cheek smash-cold against the dusty adobe brick and feel the subtle stings of tiny scratches from the contact. And then, teeth and lips brushing against his ear as Jasper growled, "Say no, Edward."
At first Edward didn't say anything. Edward said nothing because Edward could feel Jasper's dick through his jeans. And because his own was painful—more painful than purple bruises, jagged nails, scratchy adobe bricks or the rough drive of thumbs. Edward didn't say anything because when Edward jerked his hips—he heard Jasper gasp. But Jasper didn't move. And when Edward did it a second time, Jasper bit into his ear—which made Edward groan. And when Edward did it a third time, Jasper did it back, and a guttural, hissed "fuck" that ached in Edward's ear—even though it had only been a whisper.
Edward turned his neck and pushed against Jasper's hold until he felt the give. Then there were arid lips, an open mint mouth, and slightly sharp teeth pressing against his bottom lip. Then there was an insistent tongue, pushing and licking against his lips, and then there was a hand in his hair and a jerk of impatience, and Jasper insisted, "open the fuck up" against his mouth, and Edward pulled back slightly, enough to say, "I've never really—"
Only to feel the penetration of Jasper's tongue and the force of his lips, from which Edward jerked back with a jarring sucking "pop." He growled, "Jasper, this would be the first time I've done anything fucking sober—"
Jasper cut him off again, but this time by grabbing at his jeans, while his eyes started to close in response. "No fucking kidding, Cullen," he rasped in a low voice, and then he kissed Edward again, though slightly softer with an open mouth and a sideways slant of the head so that their noses were aligned. Jasper's tongue was brushing against his, and there was so much goddamn spit, except Jasper seemed to be swallowing it, taking it in, and so Edward did as well—even licking at the excess on Jasper's chin when it escaped out the corner.
And then Jasper moved.
He took a step back, panting and flushed with sweat at his temples as he looked up and down Edward.
"Unbuckle."
"I thought you said you never..."
"With dumbfuck straight boys."
"I'm, um, I'm..."
"Gay as a pony. Fucking unbuckle."
Edward's trembling fingers found the metal and the loop and pulled. But that didn't seem to be fast enough for Jasper because then Jasper's hands were smacking Edward's away, and Jasper's were yanking on the coarse cotton. Edward felt the drop in temperature first and then the brush of fabric as his dick sprang free.
"Jasper are you sure? I'm just not fucking..."
Jasper stared. He licked his lips. And for a short second, Jasper looked completely vulnerable, but then he smiled at Edward—and it was odd to see, perfect-looking Jasper inches away from Edward's bobbing cock. "It's gorgeous," he murmured.
Edward was going to say something, try to return the compliment, but then Jasper dropped to his knees. One of his hands was looped around the base of Edward, holding firm while Jasper leaned forward and with tongue extended touched it to the tip of Edward, licking at the pearly drop settled at the end.
Edward's arms flailed out, forward and then backward, because he wanted to punch or grab or latch on to something. And Edward's knees were bending more and more and his thighs were burning, but Jasper was making blissful sweet love to his cock—and there was the rosy pink of it against the shining red of Jasper's tongue, and Jasper was moving it up and around in lines and in tight ellipses, right where the veins met, and then Jasper's hand would pump and his mouth would slide down and then suck all the way back up. There was the slick aftermath on his skin and the clenching in his abdomen, and Jasper drew back his mouth but kept the loop of his fingers moving tight and firm up and down Edward. He pulled back after a long draw, and look up at Edward with bright eyes. "Tell me when you're near," Jasper breathed, and then a tight-mouthed, "I want to watch you."
Edward gave only a single nod—he was already so fucking close—and Jasper didn't respond back but took Edward back into his mouth. Jasper started going hot and fast at the top of him. Edward was panting. Jasper was humming and sucking and licking, and Edward felt the jab in his abdomen, and his fingers jerked into Jasper's hair, scratching so as to warn, and Jasper pulled back... and both Edward and Jasper watched as his cock tensed and then shot—and the dull cream spurted out onto the planks below.
Edward slumped to the floor.
Jasper crawled on top of him and buried his face into the crook of Edward's neck, nuzzling affectionately and holding himself tight against Edward.
Edward kissed Jasper's temple—Jasper's gorgeous temple on his gorgeous, cock-worshiping face. "I think you were right," Edward murmured, kissing into Jasper's hair.
"I'm always right," Jasper whispered.
Edward laughed.
And then Jasper lifted his head from the crook of Edward's neck. Edward tried to kiss him, but Jasper pulled back. "We have to go soon—"
At which Edward blinked in surprise.
"But we need to talk about what you're doing when you slide into my bed tonight..."
Edward trembled, but he also smiled.
He was ready.
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