I'm not really satisfied with the way this came out, but I've been sitting on it a couple of days and it only seems to be getting worse, so I decided to just put it out there and continue on with the rest of the story. Will probably come back a few chapters down the road to fix this. Sexual tension and such really isn't my forte. Upped the rating to M, though. Better safe than sorry.

And I realise we know nothing - nothing - about Eleanor at the moment, but don't worry. We'll get a glimpse in her head soon enough.

Thank all of you for reviewing. It's, for lack of a better word, overwhelming. Heart-warming. Thank you all!

Chapter 2. We do look alike.

The club was packed. He hadn't expected otherwise. Large, crystal chandeliers adorned the high ceilings and the long bar in the back was lit up. The air was thick and the bass deep, and it smelled like sweat, smoke and sex. It was almost palpable and Jasper inhaled deeply.

He had long lost Poppy in the throng of people. The silky black dress with the plunging back he had bought her had earned her the attention of several people. They weren't deterred by Jasper's stony gaze, had ignored the possessive hand on her hip and eventually he had kissed her on the cheek and let her wander off with a lass. It seemed the safest choice; what imbecility could two girls possibly come up with? He had seen her and her new friend pop up here and there, had spoken with them for a while too, but the girls had decided terrorising the dancefloor was much more entertaining than his company, so they had flitted away again. He had sternly warned her not to do anything stupid, but he was pretty sure that at the moment she was doing exactly that.

As long as she had fun.

He sat, scanning the crowd, nursing a Scotch. His third for the night. He started to regret sending back the limo Liam had sent for them. He would have to take it down a notch if he wanted to be able to drive Poppy and himself home safely. Not that he had any plans to become completely shitfaced tonight. He wouldn't mind if he were, though.

He took another sip, letting the taste linger in his mouth, once again letting his gaze wander. Writhing bodies on the dancefloor, one lone lunatic jumping around – Holden, without a doubt – and a faceless couple kissing in the corner. A few people had glowing sticks. Some wore them as jewellery while others had simply stuck them in their hair, sticking out in various odd angles.

Jasper turned to see if Poppy was somewhere nearby, but before he had a chance to do so a weight crashed into him, almost knocking him over. A body hung around his neck and was clapping him on the back.

'You came,' Liam exclaimed. 'I can't believe it. You came!'

The Prince had a dead grip on him and after a few uncomfortable seconds Jasper reluctantly returned the embrace. Relaxed into it. He tightened his arms around the Prince, held him tighter than was perhaps proper and for the first time in months he realised how much he had missed the boy. She had been the one to ask him to leave, but it wasn't only her he had had to leave behind.

'Man,' Liam's voice was muffled, his face buried somewhere in the collar of Jasper's dress shirt. 'We're so pathetic.'

Jasper snorted at that and they hastily pulled apart, a light blush on Liam's face. Jasper looked as unfazed as ever.

'You look good,' Jasper said, giving Liam the once-over. 'Congratulations, mate.'

They clasped hands, Liam grinning like a madman.

'Come, come,' he said, 'Willow is somewhere around and I'm pretty sure Robbie and Len were right behind me. You should see Willow, Jasper. She's wearing this red piece. I swear, that woman will be the death of me…'

The Prince was chattering, much to Jasper's amusement. Gods, he had missed this.

'…has been driving me completely nuts. She wants a Royal wedding and she'll be damned if it's not mine. Robbie's bloody lucky he just got back from the death, otherwise she'd be on his case. And Eleanor…'

Liam trailed off, looking over his shoulder, an even broader smile lighting up his features. Jasper followed his line of sight.

'Len, look! Look who's here.'

And then he saw her, standing just a couple of feet away. She looked gorgeous, and he hadn't expected it any other way. Her hair was straight and longer than he remembered, and he could almost feel the silkily softness of it. The dress, if it could be called that, clung tightly to her body and he could practically feel his dick twitching in his pants. She was fucking gorgeous and she used to be all his. Used to be his.

He stared at her, he knew he was, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open. She rocked on her heels, something gravitational, some pull, and he almost hoped she would run to him, jump him, hold him, kiss him, and tell him she loved him. But he caught himself, warned himself not to go there, not to let his thoughts stray that way, so when she turned around without saying a word, disappearing into the crowd, it really didn't hurt that much.

But truly it did.

His grip on the whisky glass was tight as he brought it to his mouth, but Liam was still blithely chattering away, completely unaware, and he wasn't going to let a girl – the girl – ruin his mood. Besides, he was so over her.

'Man,' Liam grinned, thwacking him on the back. 'Am I glad you came.'

He turned around, searching for someone, and then hollered, 'Robbie!'

The Gods were punishing him, Jasper was certain. He needed more Scotch. A double.

The crowd parted to reveal a man Jasper had only seen on pictures before. He needed no introduction, though, to know that this was His Royal Highness Crown Prince Robert. Even if he hadn't ever seen the man on television or in the newspapers, he would've known. He had always wondered about the twins, they hardly looked alike, but seeing Robert now, there was no denying he was Eleanor's older brother. They were like two peas in a pod. The resemblance was eerily. The same intense eyes, the same dark hair, and the same look of disdain they both seemed to have reserved especially for him.

'Robbie, come, come,' Liam beckoned his brother over, standing next to Jasper like a proud mother hen.

'This, dear brother,' he grinned, 'is Jasper.'

He breathed out Jasper's name almost reverently. Robbie arched an eyebrow, stepping forward to offer Jasper his hand. The latter took it hesitantly.

'So you're what they call "the saviour of the monarchy and my kingdom",' he drawled.

'I coined that term,' Liam declared solemnly.

'Yes, good for you, kid,' Robbie nodded. 'Good for you.'

He patted his younger brother on the shoulder with his free hand. The other still had Jasper's in a firm grip.

'Good to finally meet you,' Robbie said. 'It's too bad you did not stick around after the whole Pryce-debacle.'

Jasper had to resist the urge to flinch under his gaze.

'I did my job and wasn't wanted anymore,' he replied. 'No reason to stay.'

He quickly added, 'Your Highness.'

'Right,' Robbie chuckled, narrowing his eyes. 'No reason.'

'All right, all right,' Liam interfered. 'Stop the pissing contest and let each other go. You lot can arm wrestle some other time, but not on my birthday. Just be happy Jasper's here, Robbie, and behave yourself.'

Robbie glanced at his younger brother and seemed to slightly relax.

'You're right,' he said, showing a lopsided grin, quite similar to Eleanor's. He clasped Jasper's shoulder, squeezed good-naturedly.

'Thank you for keeping an eye on my little brother,' he said. He sounded the genuine.

'And my sister.'

Jasper nodded.

'It was nothing, Your Highness.'

Liam slung an arm around both their shoulders, whooping as he did so.

'So glad we got this all sorted out,' he grinned. 'Now let's all be friends and get drunk on my fucking birthday!'

He ran off, yelling, 'I'll be right back', over his shoulder, leaving the Crown Prince and Jasper alone.

'He had quite a lot to drink already,' Jasper observed. Robbie smiled.

He was leaning against the table, sizing Jasper up. He could feel the Prince's eyes on him.

'Liam appears to be a big fan of you,' the Prince spoke. 'Has been talking my ear off about you. Jasper this, Jasper that. He was incredibly excited, embarrassingly so, when he discovered you were coming tonight.

'Mister Hill had some nice things to say about you as well. Even Mother had. If I recall correctly, she called you a decent enough young man once one got to know you with your heart in the right place. Eleanor, though. Not one kind word. Better yet, not a word. She refused to speak of you. Leaves me to wonder. What happened there?'

He looked at Jasper, all friendly smiles, but his eyes were dark.

'I think you should ask the Princess, Your Highness,' Jasper replied slowly, not sure what the man did and did not know.

'I did but she wasn't very forthcoming, so here I am asking you,' Robbie said. 'And you don't have to add Your Highness to every sentence. This is a party. We're all just men here. And I'm just Robbie.'

Jasper doubted that.

'With all due respect, Robbie,' he said guardedly, 'but if something had happened, I believe that is between me and the Princess. Even if we were to pretend something did happen, it's not happening anymore so it isn't relevant either.'

Robbie let out a short bark, shaking his head.

'Fair enough, Jasper,' he said. 'Fair enough. But I'm keeping an eye on you.'

'Wouldn't want to have it any other way.' Jasper smiled tightly at him.

'Sorry to interrupt your bonding,' Liam grinned. 'I believe this one is yours, Jasper.'

He had an arm around Poppy's shoulder amicably and she smirked smugly at Jasper.

'Imagine my surprise when I was practically accosted at the bar by this little one,' Liam chuckled. 'She offered to get me drunk and take me home. Apparently her friend was taking way too long introducing me to her and she decided to take matters into her own hand.'

'I don't know her,' Jasper said stoically.

'Hey,' Poppy exclaimed. 'Don't bail on me now. I was about to offer him a threesome, you, me, him, but then instead he offered me shots.'

She held out a golden rimmed salver. It had eight shot glasses on it in various colours.

'Two for each,' Liam cheered, and he and Poppy clinked their glasses against each other, downing their first shots in one gulp.

'Your turn,' Poppy clapped, shoving the salver under Jasper and Robbie's nose. Her eyes widened when she recognised the latter.

'Bloody baby Jesus,' she shrieked, stepping backwards, almost dropping the plate. Robbie's hand shot out and he steadied her, grinning.

'Most call me Your Highness or simply Robbie,' he chuckled, 'but bloody baby Jesus will do.'

'I'd rethink twice before you tell her that,' Jasper said dryly. 'She might end up calling you that for the rest of the night. She's not all right in the head.'

Poppy growled, snapping her jaws at him.

'Shut it you.'

She handed Robbie a shot glass.

'Don't listen to this impolite brute,' she said. 'I am a very sophisticated, young woman, educated as well. This little affair with your younger brother at the bar was just a temporary lapse in judgement. I can assure you I am normally very well-behaved. He' – she waved a hand disdainfully in Jasper's direction – 'just brings out the worst in me.'

'He's a curse,' she sighed dramatically. 'But I love him anyway.'

She tugged on Jasper's arm, pulling it around her. He rolled his eyes, snorted as he did so, but he was content to let his arm rest on her shoulders.

They all downed the last four shots together and Liam took the salver from Poppy, placing it on the floor against Jasper's chair. They fell into easy conversation.

Jasper told Liam of his new job, his apartment, and Liam updated him on everything that had been going on. Both Poppy and Robbie added snarky comments to their stories, laughing hardest at their own commentary. The Crown Prince was a bit of a bastard.

Jasper liked him.

Apparently Liam was officially dating Willow now – Poppy had narrowed her eyes at that, but didn't seem too disturbed by the news. She most likely had already read about it in the tabloids, rumours had been flying, pictures of the Prince on his knees, but hearing it confirmed by the Prince himself was something entirely different – after a whole lot of courting and some misunderstandings, the latest involving Liam's surgically enhanced cousin Maribelle.

'Willow was actually jealous of Maribelle, so I had to show her there was nothing to worry about.'

'He could've just told her Maribelle was his cousin,' Robbie interjected. 'No, instead he took her to Paris, asked her to be his girlfriend on top of the Eiffel Tower and decided it was a good idea to get down on one knee while doing so and here we are today.'

'In my defence,' Liam said, 'how was I supposed to know the paps'd be there. I was just trying to be romantic.'

'And now the Queen Mother is –'

'I see you've found a new plaything.'

He felt her presence before he even heard her. She had a champagne flute in her right hand and Beck on her left arm. If there was one person he hadn't missed…

'Excuse me?' Confusion was written on Poppy's face as she addressed the Princess, but Eleanor ignored her, staring straight at Jasper.

'Len,' Liam sighed. 'Don't.'

He smiled apologetically at Poppy.

'Poppy,' he said, 'this lovely creature whom I have shared a womb with is Her Royal Highness Princess Eleanor. Eleanor, this is Poppy.'

'She's Jasper's friend,' he added as an afterthought.

He didn't know why he did it, but Jasper let his hand drop from Poppy's shoulder. He slid it down her back, coming to rest low on her hip. He squeezed and pulled her closer to him, all the while looking Eleanor in the eye.

'Girlfriend,' he corrected, not breaking eye contact. 'She's my girlfriend.'

She didn't even blink.

Poppy shifted, frowning up at him, and he prayed to every God he knew she'd go along with it. Please, just go along.

'Girlfriend, huh,' Eleanor said silkily. She separated herself from Beck, taking a step forward towards Poppy. The broad smile on her face reminded Jasper of a panther, stalking its prey.

'So you're the new missus Frost,' she said.

'Apparently,' Jasper heard Poppy mutter softly. The Princess hadn't heard. He tightened his grip, a warning.

'I didn't mean to be rude before,' Eleanor continued. 'It's just…'

She glanced at Jasper, smirking.

'He's a slippery one,' she told Poppy, drawing closer to the girl. 'Slippery and shrewd. I wouldn't get too attached to him. I've heard he's very good at breaking hearts.'

'Poppy and I are going to get something to drink,' Jasper cut in.

'We are?'

'We'll see you guys later,' Jasper said. 'Enjoy the party.'

He had a lock on Poppy's waist, pulling her along. Before they disappeared in the crowd, Poppy managed to wrangle out of his grip, enough to call over her shoulder, 'I'll come find you later, Liam', followed belatedly by, 'Happy birthday, Princess.'

She could've sworn she saw Eleanor smile.

The moment they were out of sight, she rounded on Jasper, squealing. He pushed her to the side, into the relative obscurity of a back corner.

'You fucking pantypisser!' She slapped him on the shoulder, pinched the bridge of her nose, and then proceeded to hit him again. He groaned. Perhaps she wasn't entirely right in the head, but she wasn't stupid. Poppy knew how to connect dots, even if they were dots only she saw.

'You and the Princess,' she grinned. 'Frost and the fucking Princess. Frost and fucking the Princess.'

'Keep your voice down,' Jasper urged her.

'Keep my voice down?' she repeated. 'Keep my bloody voice down?'

She laughed.

'Frost, you've been bloody banging the fucking Princess and you didn't even tell me. I'll bloody well decide for myself whether I want to keep my voice down or not.'

She shook her head.

'Damn it all to hell, you know what this means?' she exclaimed. 'By association I have been shagging the Princess. I don't know if I should be disgusted or excited.'

She jumped up and down, up and down, giggling like a child.

'Definitely excited,' she nodded. 'So excited.'

'Poppy, shut your trap,' Jasper sighed. 'I have not been shagging the Princess.'

She rolled her eyes.

'Yeah right,' she said. 'You practically stared that lad on her arm to dead and she wasn't entirely pleasant to me either. It's out there for the world to see. Your pauper penis has been inside the Royal vagina. Don't lie to me.'

He didn't reply.

'You know, people used to medically experiment on me,' she said smirking, 'but even I am not as screwed as you are.'

He ran a hand through his hair, debating what to tell her. He wasn't ready to have this conversation with her, should've have known he was going to have this conversation with her when he brought her here. He needed a drink and he needed to punch something. Preferably someone. He thought of that smug, little bastard Beck. Holding her arm like he belonged there. He wondered how long it took for her, after he left, to crawl back into his bed.

After all he did for her.

'I need a drink,' he grunted. He startled Poppy as he pushed past her, in the direction of the bar, immediately being swallowed by the crowd.

'Whisky, please,' she weakly called after him. 'On the rocks.'

She had no idea if he had heard her.

She looked around at all the strange faces surrounding her. The dancers on platforms.

Apparently Frost had more secrets than he cared to let her know. She was curious. Something had happened here, in this world she didn't know, this world where Jasper obviously had been a part of. He was on more than friendly terms with Prince Liam, the Crowd Prince undeniably had a bit of respect for him because of some heroic shit he had apparently pulled and the Princess…Something was going on there. She'd seemed so angry.

And hurt.

Poppy wasn't sure, but she thought there was hurt there too.

She knew there was with Jasper.

He returned, two glasses in his hand, and passed her one. Whisky on the rocks. Such a fucking treasure. He was scowling and she let him nurse his drink in silence. For as far as there was any in the club. His face was tense and his jaw flexed as he stared ahead. She had no idea what he was thinking about, but she could make an educated guess.

'Is she the reason you left the palace?' she asked softly.

He froze. Swallowed, his jaw working as he concentrated on his glass.

For a moment she thought he wasn't going to answer.

'We were over long before I left,' he lamented and she had never heard such grief in his voice. She wanted to reach out to him, but knew he wouldn't appreciate it, so instead she took another sip of whisky, not really certain what to say. At a loss for words.

'What happened?'

Curiosity won out.

He sighed and he was so not talking to her about it, not right now, but she at least deserved an explanation of sorts. He threw back his whisky and she offered him her glass, seemingly encouraging him. He took the glass, brought it to his mouth and savoured the taste. Let it linger in his mouth.

'I fucked up.'

Straight and simple, the god's honest truth. He neglects to tell her, that yes, he had fucked up, but he had done everything in his power to make it up to her, had tried so hard, but in the end it simply hadn't been enough because she was the bloody Princess and he would never be enough for her.

She was a spoiled little fuck and he was over her.

He hadn't noticed Poppy leave, but she must've have, as she handed him a new glass, Bourbon this time and white wine for herself. He was already feeling the buzz, but accepted the Bourbon anyway. He needed the lush.

Poppy grabbed a nearby barstool, pushed him down on it.

'So,' she murmured. 'Girlfriend, right.'

He laughed, loudly, and she leaned forward. She caught him by surprise, kissed him softly on the lips and grinned at him.

'Girlfriend privileges,' she smirked.

She leaned in for another peck, but he turned his head around, slowly. Her lips landed on his cheek and she ruffled his hair, unperturbed.

'I'm going to dance a bit,' nodding her head towards a group of girls on the dancefloor. Jasper recognized them. One of them was the girl Poppy had run off with at the beginning of the night.

'We'll talk when we get home,' she said. She made it sound like a threat and he grimaced.

'Don't worry,' she grinned. 'It will be mostly painless. Now stay out of trouble and try to enjoy yourself.'

He watched her for a while. Watched the way she moved to the beat. Rolled her hips, head thrown back. Perhaps he already had one too many to drink. From behind he could easily pretend she was the Princess. He revelled in the sight of her.

She was twirling her new friend around, was laughing and enjoying herself, and suddenly there were two of her and he must be drunker than he thought he was because there was no way. Except there was and he choked, his eyes widening and his heartbeat racing.

The Princess had joined her.

Poppy didn't show any surprise, but Jasper could see it in the sudden tenseness of her shoulder. She was uncomfortable. The Princess slung an arm around her waist, pulling her close like they were old friends. Beck was nowhere to be seen. He saw her whisper something in Poppy's ear - couldn't be too bothered about it, wouldn't be too bothered about it - and then they were both dancing, and smiling, and moving together. He watched them, intensely, and he very nearly felt like a pervert.

But then she looked him straight in the eye. He had trouble breathing.

She threaded her fingers through her long hair, pulling it to one side, not breaking eye contact. She swayed back and forth in sync with the bass. She rolled her shoulders, her hips undulating and her eyes never left his. Trailed her fingers through the air.

He was mesmerized when she touched herself, her fingers drawing a path over her body. She closed her eyes, bending and leaning on the beat.

He loosened his collar, swallowed thickly. The alcohol was muddling his senses.

She looked at him again. Then she strayed away from the dancefloor, in the direction of the stairs leading to the rooftop balcony. He did not hesitate. He followed her.

Two bodyguards stood at the top of the stairs, near the balcony doors. Jasper recognized Baker, the other he did not know. They nodded at each other, Baker arching an eyebrow.

'Off you go,' the Princess snapped. 'Don't let anyone up these stairs.'

They silently complied.

She pushed open the doors, didn't bother to wait for him. She strode to the balcony's edge, resting her elbows on the stone balustrade. She retrieved a cigarette from her pack, trapped in her bra, and lit it up.

There was no one there, so he just watched her, transiently. The back of her dress was open, just as he had expected. Perhaps that was part of the reason he had let Poppy wear a backless dress too.

He stepped forward, cautiously.

But then she spoke his name.

'Jasper.'

He shivered.

He approached her, stopping behind her. He could see the goose bumps on her skin.

She inhaled deeply, flicking the cigarette off the balcony. He followed its fall, to see where it landed.

'So, girlfriend, right,' she murmured. He had to smile. Poppy had said the exact same thing. 'Liam and Robbie seem to think she's nice. Good dancer.'

She was so close. He could feel the heat radiating from her body. Inhaled deeply to memorize her scent.

'She is.'

Her presence was overwhelming.

She turned around, leaned back against the railing and if she was surprised by his closeness she didn't show it. He inched closer and placed one hand on the railing beside her. The other hovered awkwardly between them. He wanted to touch her, wanted to so badly.

She didn't seem impressed, arched an eyebrow.

'Poppy is her name, right.' It was more a statement than a question.

He laid a hand on her arm, so light he was barely touching her. Brushed her upper arm gently.

'Such a common name,' she said musingly and it was only because he knew her so well that he caught the slight hitch in her breathing.

He traced her arm with his finger. Closed them around her wrist, rubbing the inside.

She shivered.

'Her dress is gorgeous,' she said.

He inched closer to her. His breath fanned over her face. Her tongue darted out. She wet her lips and he held his breath. His hand brushed the side of her breast and she leaned into the fleeting touch, leaned into him.

'She is beautiful,' she whispered, her voice breaking.

'She looks like you,' he said.

He lifted his hand, settled it upon her cheek. His thumb rubbed back and forth and she leaned further into his touch.

He wasn't breathing; she wasn't breathing.

She exposed her neck to him, her heart pounding. His other hand nestled itself in her hair, lightly pulling, and when he placed a feathery light kiss just below her jaw, she couldn't control the soft moan that escaped her.

He felt her tremble against him and he kissed her again, lightly nipped at her skin.

'Eleanor,' he sighed, his breath hot on her throat. He flattened himself against her, covering her body with his and she whimpered, sunk her nails into his chest while pulling him closer.

She looked him in the eye, her pupils dark and he could see the lust in them. She had never been more beautiful to him.

His lips gently touched hers. Tentatively, waiting. But then she slipped her arms around him and kissed him back. A shudder racked him as she parted her lips and all hesitation was forgotten.

He pressed against her, deepening the kiss and claiming her lips, her body. She tasted like vodka and cigarettes, hurt and regret. She tasted like Eleanor and he drank it all up.

His movements were urgent and he slid a hand beneath her dress. Trailed up the inside of her thigh. He splayed his fingers over her crotch, feeling how wet she already was through her panties.

She breathed his name and he kissed her again. He harshly twisted her nipple and she arched her back. He did it again, slipped a finger inside her panties at the same moment. Her moans turned to whimpers as he teasingly rubbed her clit. Ran the tip of his tongue over her throat, bit softly, and the sound she made almost send him over the edge. Jesus. He slid one finger inside her and fuck, she was so wet. She gasped, throwing her head back, lifting a leg to give him better access. He pushed inside again, two fingers this time, his thumb circling her clit.

She clung to him and for a moment he could pretend she wasn't the Princess but just a girl. Just a girl and he just a man. Except they weren't.

She was fucking whimpering and he loved the feel of her hands on his body, loved the taste of her, and god damn it, his dick was throbbing, but Poppy was inside and she wasn't alone either and he was supposed to bloody be over her.

He stiffened, closed his eyes. He was out of breath, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe. Rested his forehead against her shoulder, only a second, just for a second, and removed his hand. His fingers were sticky.

Then he stepped back.

She stared at him confused, eyes diluted and lips parted slightly, looking so fucking sexy. He saw comprehension dawn on her, her eyes slowly narrowing, and resisted the urge to continue what he had started.

'Guess you still can't resist me, Princess.'

He cursed the hoarseness of his voice, but challengingly looked her in the eye. He could see anger building there. Anger and shame. He steeled himself against that look. Turned around. She wasn't in control. Not anymore. He was fucking over her and he wasn't doing this.

'Off I go.'

He slammed the balcony doors shut behind him.

Had he looked back, he might've seen the anger bleed from her body, leaving behind only a girl, as much confused and hurt as he was. But he didn't.

He stumbled back inside, breathing heavily. People brushed up against him, muttered faint apologies. He saw Poppy, chatting with both Princes, looking like she fucking belonged here. She didn't. None of them belonged here, least of all him.

She waved at him, beckoning him over, but he walked the other way.

He needed to find a bathroom, needed to wash his hands. He needed to be alone. Needed a moment to gather his senses. Perhaps he had drank too much. He didn't know. Didn't really care.

He leaned against the door, practically fell inside the restroom and locked it.

His dick was heavy and he groaned, flattening his hand against the bathroom stall. He was an idiot, a fucking idiot. It had been stupid to come here. He had left this behind, the palace and everyone in it. It was months ago. He had walked away. There was no going back there.

His free hand had dropped to his pants and he undid his buttons.

But she was so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.

He slowly started stroking.

Her body fit his perfectly. He fit inside her perfectly. He could still smell her on his fingers.

Fastened his pace, rubbing his head.

Her lips around his cock. His hands in her hair. The taste of her mouth.

He slammed his hand against the wall, stroking harder.

He spilled his seed in a lavatory with the whisper of her name on his lips. He was truly fucking pathetic.

He didn't see her the rest of the night. He was glad for it. He drank Bourbon and whisky and he buried himself in Poppy's dark tresses. Spun her around on the dance floor, left marks on her hips from holding her too tight. Kissed her over and over and over again, and maybe he was trying too hard, but he couldn't seem to be able to remove the taste of her from his mouth. Truly not.

And she was Poppy and she was Eleanor, she was everything he wanted and in the end he didn't care, because he was over her anyway.

The ride home was quiet.

'Jasper,' Poppy said once they reached the Great Eastern. He glimpsed at her, surprised. She never called him Jasper. It was always Frost or something else, mostly unflattering. His first name sounded weird coming from her mouth. Not wrong, but… Not right either.

She laid a hand on his upper leg, squeezed gently. He looked at her and she smiled wistfully.

'I understand, you know,' she said. 'And you were right. She and I. We do look alike.'