AN: Lauren (leckadams) is the bomb for buying this story and giving to such a great cause.

Layne Faire is the beta with super skills.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of its characters.

Chapter 4

"Are you looking for me?"

The words have been spoken, too late for me to take them back, and I don't want to. So, I step forward, pushing myself away from the tree, moving closer to him…determined.

Jasper whips around at the sound of my voice, shocked into silence, I suppose. Maybe we both are, since we merely stare at each other's shadows. I watch his chest rise and fall, knowing he's breathing just as hard as I am. I approach ever so slowly…cautiously, taking careful, even steps, allowing him time to adjust to my ambush.

I'm just a few feet away, and I'm finally able to examine his features. He's agitated and upset, but he's controlling his emotions through clenched fists and a cement jaw.

"What are you doin' here Edward?" he hisses through gritted teeth.

"I want to know where you go at night," I demand…as if I have a right to know, but this situation doesn't warrant logic…not when I need to know.

He's visibly taken aback by my audaciousness. "It's none of your business," he replies insolently.

"Is it a woman?" I rasp.

"It's none of your business," he repeats, but then adds a quiet, "no."

"Take me with you."

I should be able to hear his jaw grind, from the look of how tightly he's clenched it shut.

We face off, staring at each other, but I won't give an inch. I won't give up.

After a moment, I think he comprehends the extent of my resolve. His stiffened shoulders deflate, leaving him appear defeated.

"No," he whispers.

"Why not? I thought we were becoming friends."

He snorts at that, angering me, so I decide to call him out on his change of heart. If he supplies a legitimate reason, I'll have no other choice but to simply leave him alone.

"Tell me Jasper. What about my divorce seems to bother you? You were fine with me before then, so what's changed?"

He swivels around, taking a couple of long paces to reach the boardwalk, and I figure he's just going to leave me standing here, without the courtesy of an answer. I stagger forward one step, prepared to beg him for the explanation I feel I deserve, but before I can verbalize my thoughts, he turns back, crossing the lawn in swift angry strides, not stopping until he's in my face.

"Friends?" He gasps, bitterly. "You thought we were friends? But you didn't think I should know that you're recently divorced? Or that you'd even been married?" He asks, spitting out the last word.

"We talked all about our fuckin' pasts, Edward…please tell me why that bit of information never came up?"

I'm stunned, and I don't know if it's because Jasper's face is inches from mine, that I can feel puffs of his breath along my cheek, that I can feel his body heat…

…or am I shocked stupid because I've just realized I hadn't mentioned Bella on purpose?

I hadn't wanted him to know about her.

I immediately blame it on the fact that I didn't want him to know of my failure. It's easier to think of that than any of the other possibilities of why I'd exclude her from our previous conversations.

I lash out before my thoughts give way to entertaining those possibilities.

"Why does it matter to you? Yeah, I'm divorced, Jasper. She left me. She cheated on me. She basically said she still loves me, but she couldn't spend the rest of her life with someone that sucked in bed," I yell.

I have to calm myself before I can go on. Once I'm able to speak in a normal voice, I tell him about my humiliation.

"She didn't want me any more, Jasper. So, she threw away everything we built…all of our years together, and found someone fourteen years older than me to fulfill her disgusting lust with." I don't realize, that with my confession, I've inched even closer to him, my chest now pushing against his. He shoves me back a step, before turning away from me.

I watch him, anxiously. His back expands, when he takes a deep breath, then his head falls forward.

"Fine. Get in," he breathes out.

I don't give him a second chance to change his mind. I scurry to the boat and gingerly make my way aboard, not wanting to tumble into the thick, muddy water. It would probably take me a week to scrub the results of such a fall from my body.

Jasper unhooks the boat, though I'm positive it wouldn't have wandered anywhere, even if it hadn't been tied down to the decaying post.

He grabs a long, sturdy, wooden pole lying on the floor of the watercraft, plunges the end into the murky water, and pushes us away from the boardwalk. He remains standing while he navigates us through the bayou.

Moving deeper into its mouth, I realize the backyard has nothing on the exotic swampland surrounding us. It's dank, quiet, and mysterious. The only sounds to be heard are bullfrogs croaking from their perches, birds chirping in their beds, and the slow, relaxing swish of the boat wading through the wetland.

Trees and other foliage sprout up through the water, leaving Jasper to weave through the obstacles carefully. There is no visible path, looking as though this is unchartered territory, but Jasper seems to know exactly where he's going.

The heat of the day had set a misty steam to settle just over the water's surface, and without the soft splashes against the swaying boat, it gives the illusion that we're floating on clouds.

I want to ask him if he'll take me here during the day, to really appreciate the alluring environment, but I don't want to push my luck with Jasper anymore than I already have for one day.

Besides, Jasper doesn't look like he'd be very accommodating right now. Perhaps, it'd be a favor I can ask of him tomorrow…or, judging by his current state, maybe next week.

I'm sure it'll all depend on what happens tonight. For some reason, I recognize that whatever takes place tonight has the potential to 'make or break' our very fragile acquaintance.

I try to focus on the surroundings, but as the moonlight filters through the trees, I can't help but take those opportunities to gaze at the enigmatic man standing over me.

A variety of emotions play across his face, and I wonder what he's thinking. My eyes drop to his arms, handling the wooden rod with precision. My stare lowers further, to his long legs, encased in sinfully tight jeans, while he deftly balances himself against the rocking sway of the boat.

When I finally look back up, I find his eyes on me.

I can't define his expression, but his dark gaze and set jaw send a surge of energy through me. I glance away, attempting to cover my gasp with a sharp cough that echoes through the still waters.

He just caught me blatantly checking him out.

I do my best to refrain from looking in his direction again, only to find my gaze drawn back over and over. He's just so…easy to look at.

It's approximately fifteen minutes before the bayou opens up into a larger body of water. Jasper maneuvers us over a clearly manmade bump, before we hit the cleaner waters.

He lowers the motor into the water, firing it up. It's then that it occurs to me where we're going.

One of the islands on that map.

I thought Emmett's behavior seemed strange when I asked him about the three inconspicuous dots on the map, but I'd figured he just inhaled too much of Rosalie's muffin, too quickly. I would've never thought to question his knowledge about a town he'd lived in his entire life.

I ponder the reasons why he wouldn't want me to know. I grow more excited when I realize my boundless curiosity is about to be satisfied, then nervous, because I have a hunch that tonight will be pivotal, not only to the furthering (or the decline) of Jasper's and my relationship, but also to my own life as well.

The breeze as we speed through the water feels nice. The night is sultry; moist, but still warm, even at this late hour. I tug at my collar, wishing I'd worn a t-shirt to the festival, instead of a button-down. Thankfully, my khaki shorts are light and airy.

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, we pass by two vacant islands. Once we round the corner to the third, though, it's bustling with activity.

The marina is packed full of boats in varying size and shapes, some expensive, and some…well, like Jasper's. He eventually locates an available slip for the boat, where he docks and ties it down.

Walking down the beach, we approach a 'hut' type looking building. There are a few campfires outside the establishment with clusters of people hanging about the flames.

We walk nearer to the goings-on, until I freeze when all things become clear.

I can't believe what's right in front of my eyes.

Jasper continues to walk a few more steps, before he realizes I've stopped moving. He suddenly turns around, his stance as hard as his stare. He's angry, frustrated, and spoiling for a fight.

He knew I'd freak out. He didn't want me to come, yet here I am, standing before him, utterly dumbfounded, just as he suspected I would.

I'm not going to make him regret bringing me by acting like I can't handle this.

Whatever the hell this is.

Finally, he shrugs…a sardonic smirk forming on his face.

"Welcome to Sinner's Island, Edward. This is where we sinners go to satisfy our disgusting lust."

He continues on ahead, leaving me to follow in his unforgiving wake. Jasper barely takes notice of the scene around the fire, before he heads straight into the hut.

However, I can't seem to get my legs to move once I've reached the steamy edge of the bonfire near the entrance.

Two women…topless, wearing only bikini bottoms, cling to one another, dancing sinuously to the jazz music streaming through the torn screens on windows that appear to have been pried open permanently. The women's bodies touch almost everywhere, as they kiss, with tongues and teeth.

They massage one another's breasts. The blonde dips down to lick the valley between the other's pert mounds, teasing her nipples with her fingertips. The brunette's head falls back, while the blonde's tongue travels back up to the juncture between her neck and shoulder, sucking in earnest.

I look away, appalled by the lewd public display, but come face to face with something much worse.

Two men.

Oh – my – God.

Sans clothes, one of the men is on all fours in the sand, the other one behind him on his knees, just a few feet from the fiery blaze.

They're completing the ultimate act.

They are…penetrating.

Paralyzed by the scene in front of me, I can't move…or stop watching. The man's grossly long, cut dick glides fluidly in and out between smooth ass cheeks. His head is thrown back, his elongated neck corded from the strain of his clenched jaw. Every muscle in his lithe, glossy body is taut with tension, but it's the other man that draws more of my attention and interest. He looks…euphoric, in a state of ultimate bliss, definitely not in the pain or discomfort I would have expected to see from someone in his position.

Instead, his eyes are closed, a small hint of a smile on his face. He's obviously enjoying the sensations his partner seems to be inflicting upon him.

Abruptly, I become very aware of what I'm doing…what I've been looking at.

And I'm ashamed.

I look around to see if anyone else has noticed that I've been staring at the wrong pairing, but as usual, people pay me no mind. Some of the crowd watches the two couples, while others only glance at them occasionally. Still others ignore them completely, lost in cheery conversations with those around them.

It's like they're attending some sort of dinner show, not observing two people of the same sex performing intimate acts upon one another.

I stumble toward the building, afraid of what lies within, but I need to find Jasper.

I open the front door of what appears to be a bar.

A very over-crowded bar, but thank the heavens that from what I can see, everyone is mostly covered. The girls all wear tops, though they're scanty, at best. Most of the men have their shirts off, but are otherwise fully clothed. The dance floor swarms with mainly same sex pairings, although I spy a few heterosexual couples in the mix.

As men undulate against one another to the slow, seductive sounds of Barney Wilen, I futilely hunt for Jasper.

Never have I felt more disturbed in my life. I'm almost frantic to find him, my search becoming desperate, needing to be by his side right now.

The bar's 'floor to ceiling' is constructed with old, dark wooden planks. Several tall, cream-shaded lanterns hang from the rafters, barely seen through the dense fog emanating from the lascivious behavior generated on the congested dance floor.

Jesus. It's so goddamned hot in here. My senses are on such high alert that I feel a bead of sweat tickle my skin while it drizzles down the back of my neck. It's no wonder these men have removed their shirts. I have to suppress an urge to do so, as well.

Four large ancient fans oscillate slowly, barely circulating the stifling heat, leaving the air thick with sweat, sex, and rampant desire. A sweaty couple pushes flush against me, pressing me into the wall, and I'm this close to passing out while being sandwiched between two gay men.

That's all it takes for me to sense a massive panic attack emerging.

I push free with strength I wasn't aware I possessed. The couple barely noticed, dancing their way back into the sea of bodies, where now, it's impossible to keep track of who's partnered with whom. Backs pressing firmly against backs, bare chests grind against bare chests. There is no decisive pairing, as their slickened bodies smear and slither against one another, in ways I've never beheld.

How the fuck am I going to find Jasper in here?

I'm momentarily shocked by my inner use of profanity. I've used the 'F' word on occasion, but usually when I do, the word is accompanied by some sort of unintended pain. Still, even with the absence of pain, I'm positive this situation can be considered 'fuck-worthy'.

I jump when my arm is grabbed, but I'm doused in tremendous relief when I turn to see the man I've been searching for.

Jasper takes one look at me, then chuckles. I can't even bear to ponder what I must look like.

"You asked to come," he warns, with teasing humor.

"C'mon, let me buy you a drink," he adds, stifling another snicker.

All I can do is nod. I'm so speechless right now.

We get halfway to the bar when I'm twirled about and encased in the arms of a burly man. Jasper quickly pulls us apart, before setting the man straight. I can't hear exactly what he says to him over the music, but the man nods his head, not even giving me a second glance when he trudges past.

Jasper advances on me, not stopping until his face is so, so close to mine. It's like slow motion. I'm in a trance…mute and incapable of motion. I can only watch while his face becomes blurrier the closer he gets.

It's only once he speaks into my ear that I realize I haven't been breathing…at all.

What did I think he was going to do?

Lost in that thought, I barely register what he says. He pulls back, looking at me expectantly, and I'm forced to put together the pieces of what he's said, so I can formulate an appropriate response.

"If you don't want to get hit on, we're going to have to pretend we're together. Like hold hands…or something."

Oh right. Pretend. Yeah…

A shiver runs up my spine. I'm not sure if it's because he's suggesting that we hold hands, or that I've just felt his soft lips on the shell of my ear. Whatever the case may be I have no problem following his instructions, instantly threading my fingers through his.

He briefly glances at our joined hands, before he stalks to the bar, dragging me along.

His hands are big, warm and strong; it feels strange since I'm used to holding cool, dainty hands. Yet, they seem to fit together perfectly. And, though it feels weird, it doesn't feel wrong, which I find really disturbing.

Even more unsettling is the sense of loss I feel when we reach our destination and he untangles our fingers. He orders two shots of…something from the bartender.

My heart is still pumping erratically, and breathing is hard to do. So, when he hands me a glass, I down it. The liquid burns my throat and tastes like total shit, but I immediately ask for another.

While Jasper tries to catch the bartender's attention again, I see a man eyeing me. From just a few feet away, he appears to be only an inch or two taller than me. He has black short hair. His light green eyes, like the color of a freshly cut honeydew melon, stand out in sharp contrast to his olive skin. He's toned…very toned. His chest, abs and arms are defined, but not overly large.

My brain stops functioning properly when I notice he has nipple piercings. The thought of touching one stirs up unwelcomed arousal and instant shame.

He's a man.

I immediately put my arms around Jasper, remembering what he'd said about acting like we're together to ward off any unwanted attention. I cling to him urgently, burying my face in the protection of his neck. I might be taking Jasper's advice slightly overboard, but I want the stranger to get the point.

Jasper gasps, then turns around to fully envelope me in his strong arms. His hands spread wide on my back, squeezing me tightly against his hard chest. It's so comfortable. Regardless of all of this upheaval, I swear I could fall asleep in his embrace.

I briefly wonder what this would feel like if he'd stripped his shirt off like the other men had…and maybe, if I had, too.

His chin sits on the top of my head, so I feel when he turns to the side, his glance falling on the other man. Jasper sighs heavily, and his body instantly changes. His embrace deflates, becoming flat and unwelcoming.

The hold he has on me lessens, he's barely touching me now, and it makes me want to have it all back.

"Back off Seth. He's with me," Jasper threatens.

Apparently, that's all it takes, because the next thing I know, Jasper is wriggling out of my unrelenting grip and facing the bar to down his second shot. His expression is masked, his body stiff, and his eyes are trained on the bartender.

I don't know how long I stare at his profile before I figure out he isn't going to look at me. I warily sidle back up to the bar and swallow the nasty amber liquid.

He's signaling the bartender back over before I can put the glass back on the bar. While the drinks are being poured, Jasper's eyes drift to the dance floor, and my eyes follow.

One couple catches my eye, and I watch as their masculine bodies come together, thrusting and grinding salaciously, moving in perfect rhythm to the slow smoldering beat of an impassioned bass drum.

Does Jasper dance when he comes here?

I see men being led to a back room, too. I may not have ever been in a gay bar, but I've heard about what takes place in those illicit areas.

Does Jasper go back there?

Why do I keep doing this?

What is it about him?

Why do I constantly want to know where Jasper is? What he's doing? Why do I need to know all about him…what makes him smile…what makes him tick?

I have to admit now that it's not because of Jeremy. My main character has nothing to do with why, when I first met Jasper, I noticed he wasn't wearing a wedding ring, when I'd never cared to look at any other guy's ring finger before.

Why had I been so upset when I thought he was having a kid…or that he hadn't mentioned that he had a girlfriend?

Why do I always notice his body…how he moves so gracefully, how his clothes always mold to him perfectly?

Why do I think he's sexy? Or like the feel of my hand in his?

Why do I like being wrapped in his arms?

I stare vacantly at the dance floor, while all these questions rage through my head. I'm dangerously close to hyperventilating, fighting off the barrage of questions I've been avoiding since the night I met him.

"Are you gonna drink this?" He asks, unaware of my inner turmoil.

"No." My voice is barely audible, but he seems to have heard, since he picks it up and inhales it, before slamming the glass back down on the bar.

"Are you ready to go?" He asks.

He looks at me now, and all I see is a swell of indifference. Jasper's decided something in this mind, I have no idea what it is, but it hurts to see him look at me so blandly.

Stunned silent, I nod my head.

He settles the tab before leading the way out, not attempting to hold my hand to keep up the façade. This time, I'm not the one who's detoured on the way to the exit.

He's stopped by someone who apparently knows him. Their heads are close together, while they speak in hushed tones, the man caressing Jasper's shoulder as they converse.

And I don't fucking like it.

Jesus. I'm so confused, and all I want to do is go back to my room and think.

When we get back to the boat, we don't say a word. It isn't until we're well into the bayou, that I decide to speak.

"So, you're gay then?"

An awkward pause ensues.

"Yes, Edward. I'm gay," he says, as if he's talking to an inexperienced schoolboy. I don't take offense, since I feel very naïve right now.

"I…I don't have any problem with that," I say honestly, but my innocent comment seems to have poked the bear.

"That's good to know," he deadpans.

I decide it's time to shut my mouth.

XXXXX

"What's going on Jere?" Tony asks, eyes full of concern.

Jeremy looks around the crowded saloon, making sure there are no prying eyes or ears. When he's satisfied that there isn't anyone close enough to hear their conversation, he turns back to his best friend.

"We found another girl last night," he admits.

"Jesus," Tony whispers.

Jeremy had met Anthony Masen his first week in town, six months ago. Jeremy's neighbor, Maria, had invited him over for dinner to meet some of the townsfolk and welcome him to the small community. One of those in attendance was Maria's brother, Anthony.

Anthony…Tony for short, has lived in Halfway his whole life, and is a teacher at the middle school. Jeremy naturally gravitated toward Tony's friendly smile and quiet demeanor. They'd spent most of that night talking, quickly becoming fast friends. He's one of the very few people in the small town Jeremy feels he can trust and confide in.

Tony lays his hand on Jeremy's arm, squeezing reassuringly. "Don't worry, you'll get the bastard," he murmurs.

Jeremy merely nods, Tony's words and touch sending a warm tingle of calmness through him.

I wrench my eyes open, my frustrating night of sleep interrupted by a significant amount of pain.

Pain from two sources exactly.

My head is pounding and my dick is throbbing.

I haven't consumed hard liquor since college, and the debilitating headache is an excruciating reminder of why I don't anymore.

Ignoring my headache for the moment, I pull down the sheets to examine my other predicament.

"Holy shit," I whisper, almost awe-stricken.

I haven't had this big of a problem since I was a wee teenager. I'm still subjected to the occasional morning wood, but it's nothing a cold shower doesn't normally take care of. I rarely feel the need to take myself in hand, but the few times that it persists, like the other day, I'm never quite in the state I am now.

My erection hovers over my stomach, stiff and demanding. The tip is a deep, rosy red, with fluids seeping from the slit. Almost reverently, I press my forefinger against the tip, spreading the liquid around the swollen head. My cock jumps at my touch, and I gasp.

The pressure is intense, causing my dick to throb relentlessly…and the ache…it's a wicked pulse, on the verge of bursting. I decide to forgo lube, or even licking my hand, knowing I'm going to be breaking a record this morning.

I take myself in hand and pump. I don't even have time to conjure up any images, because I stroke my cock exactly eight times before I ejaculate all over my stomach. The orgasm is short and feeble, but unfortunately, I'm no stranger to weak orgasms.

I cover my eyes with my forearm. Resting, I replay the events from last night.

Shit, did that really happen?

When we arrived back at the inn last night, I'd been in such a daze. I remember saying goodnight to Jasper, receiving a grunt in return. I'd only discarded my shirt before I climbed into bed, and fell into a slumber almost immediately. I'd woken up several times sweating, tangled in the sheets, with my heart beating out of my chest from dreams I now can't recall.

So where did last night leave Jasper and me?

No closer to obtaining any answers to my ever-growing number of questions, I throw the covers aside in disgust.

Frustrated, I get up to shower, and look for some goddamned pills.

Soaking under the hot spray, I spread body wash along my stomach and chest, as I recall my initial shock upon arriving at Sinner's Island…what I saw, and how I reacted.

Just thinking about it has me stroking my semi to a steely hardness again.

What the hell is wrong with me?

It doesn't seem to matter much, because this feels way too good to stop. Knowing I'm going to last a little longer this time, I use the shower gel to lube up. I lather up my rod, so it's nice and slick, slipping in and out of my wet fist, just brushing passed the fleshy rim of my head at each pass.

My other hand travels up my stomach to my nipples. I squeeze and pinch the buds, like those girls had done to each other last night by the fire. I attempt to keep my visuals on them, and not the other couple that had been on display, but the images morph without my consent, switching from perky breasts to two men in the throes of passion, reaching their bliss in the glow of a deep purple and orange sunset.

My hand speeds up on my dick, my eyes clenching shut. I don't want to do it, but I imagine myself in that one vulnerable position, dreaming of what it would feel like.

"Fuck!" I spit out. My hand braces on the tile wall as my hips get involved, pushing into my other hand with harsh, erratic thrusts. The picturesque sunset has all but disintegrated when I zoom in to focus on the act itself.

Just balls meeting ass…

A long silky dick, ravaging a smooth tight ass.

Inescapably, my hand leaves the safety of the tile wall to explore areas of my body that I've never attempted to stimulate. I reach behind me, brushing the tips of my fingers over my ass crack. I spread my legs further, bending a little to attain more access, then skim my finger over my hole.

The forbidden touch sends a vibration straight through my cock, and I cry out, scared and exhilarated all at once.

"Oh my God…" I whimper. I leave my finger in place, but am afraid to go any further.

My visions return to the act.

Balls meeting ass.

A gorgeous dick thrusting into a beautiful buttock. Harder…faster…

I poke and press the sensitive skin of my entrance, while I jack my rigid cock.

My stomach flutters, heat surges, and blond flashes before my eyes.

"Ugh, Jas," and I'm suddenly pulsing, and exploding, and I'm a mess. Choking back the scream welling up in my throat, my wobbly legs topple and I crumble hard to the bathtub floor.

I'm bent over, with one hand still milking my cock, shaking and panting for breath. The heart-stopping contractions subside and I let myself fall back, sitting back on my heels, awed and tired…trembling, breathless and unbelievably satiated.

A soft, tearless sob bursts from my chest.

No words can describe how I feel in this very moment.

When long overdue revelations finally come to pass, I find that the knowledge of why I never felt like my body belonged to me, or why I've never fit into my own life, has finally been revealed.

I now know three things for certain: one, I am irrevocably gay; two, I need to be fucked; and three, Jasper is the one I want to do it.

And the truth shall set you free.

Yay! Edward's gay, and he knows it! So, what do you think of Sinner's Island? Do you want Ed and Jas to go back, and maybe do things a little differently next time? I'd love to hear your ideas. As usual, you tell me what you think and I'll tell you what I think.