In His Eyes

By: JillM12

Rated NC-17

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A one-shot in honour of Ninapolitan's birthday.

The Cullen boys are touring with their band, town after town, a girl in every one of them – or is there? Is Edward really a prude? Or is something else bubbling under the surface?

Touring with a rock band sounds awesome. The truth is, the endless travelling, the lack of proper sleep, the faceless towns and the occasional cut-price hotel stopover weren't nearly as glamorous as people supposed. So we were part of an up-and-coming band, but we'd worked our little asses off to make it this far.

The Cullen Brothers was never really an option as a band name; it was way too ... well ... 'straight' for our style, besides, I wasn't a blood brother, I was informally adopted by Esme and Carlisle Cullen when my parents split up and neither wanted the responsibility of a son. After numerous discussions – which usually ended up escalating into arguments – we'd settled on Neon Circus, the result of Emmet's trip to the UK and his visit to Piccadilly Circus in London. Edward and I thought that Time Square was probably more impressive, but Emmet wasn't buying, and he was a stubborn S.O.B. when he wanted to be.

Emmet played drums, his muscular arms sending hordes of young women into swooning, screaming frenzies at the mere sight of him hitting a hi-hat. Edward played keyboard and guitar and shared the vocals with me. I played lead guitar but my main love was singing.

The tour bus, which was a kind description for our dilapidated vehicle, was cramped and smelly. Our equipment was stowed in the back section; there was a small kitchen area with a fridge, a sink and a travel stove; four bunks were located in front of that and then a seated area. It wasn't luxurious but for now at least, it was home.

We'd always subscribed to the view of 'what happens on tour stays on tour.'

Emmet was the most promiscuous of the three of us; he seemed to have no shame when it came to picking up the pretty young things that flocked around him.

"Just makin' hay while the sun shines," he'd tell us as he left with yet another pretty girl.

"He's a manwhore," said Edward, the tone of his voice faltering between envy and disgust.

Edward and I had made occasional liaisons, but they really were few and far between. I supposed it was because he was uptight and I was picky. The fangirls were all too willing to give it up, we knew, but meaningless sex didn't really appeal to either of us.

We'd arrived at our latest venue early. It was another faceless, nameless, generic town and we might have been anywhere. The old theatre was actually great, even though it had seen better days. We helped the roadies unload the gear and they began set-up. Edward was stressing about needing new toothpaste and took himself off to purchase some at the Mall.

Emmet had already charmed the very pretty blonde in the Box Office, and finding she had her lunch break due, whisked her off to feed her, so that was what he was calling it today!

I sat in the dressing room, imagining how it must have looked in its heyday. It was opulent, but tatty. My cell phone buzzed, alerting me to an incoming text. It was from Edward.

Can I get you anything while I'm out?

I thought for a moment and had inspiration. Edward could be such a prude sometimes; I'd try and embarrass him, just for the hell of it.

Yes please, condoms and lube please.

I cackled to myself. He'd chicken out, I knew it. The thought of him asking a sales assistant in the drugstore for such items would surely mortify him. Of the three of us, Edward was the pretty boy, the one the girls threw themselves – and random items of underwear – at, on regular occasions. Yet Edward couldn't see it, the attraction. Like I said, Edward didn't really go for the groupies.

I expected a snarky reply, so I was surprised when Edward returned and threw a paper bag at me. He had a strange look on his face, and colour in his cheeks.

I laughed.

"Sorry bro," I said. "I just couldn't resist."

He walked up to me and for a second I thought he was going to punch me. He stopped, centimetres away from me, close enough for me to feel his hot breath on my face. His eyes held mine for a moment longer than usual, then I noticed it ... passion, smouldering, burning, straight at me.

Instinctively I leaned in towards him and our lips met ... fuck me, it was amazing. I felt myself harden. Edward's lips were soft yet insistent, his tongue was firm and masterful and I yielded entry to my mouth instantly. His hands came up to my face and he stroked the contours of my cheeks, my brow, my jawline before allowing his long fingers to twine into my collar length hair.

When he pressed his body into mine I could feel his cock, hard and throbbing into my denim-clad thigh. I lowered my hand and palmed him through his jeans causing him to moan.

"Jas, I want you. I need you."

It struck me like a lightning bolt from the blue. I wanted him too. Had my stupid joke really been a subconscious desire to instigate this? Analysis would have to come later; for now all that mattered was Edward and I.

Within moments we were naked and devouring one another with our eyes.

"Edward, you're beautiful," I murmured, emotion heavy in my voice.

"Turn around Jas," he asked.

He opened the paper bag and got out the bottle of lube and the condoms. He proceeded to pour some of the oily liquid into his hands and rub them together to warm it up.

When he began to stroke my ass as he kissed and nibbled my neck, I nearly shot my load there and then. He worked slowly, sensually, adding more lube, patiently exploring me until I was ready. He gently inserted a finger and began working until I was relaxed. Then he added another, then a third, all the time stroking and touching and kissing and nibbling me.

He turned me to face him and kissed me full on the lips.

Holding out two foil packages he gestured to me and we each protected the other.

"Turn around and hold on to the dressing table," he instructed, his voice hoarse and undeniably sexy.

I did as he asked, gasping as he inched gently into me.

"Oh, fuck Edward," I moaned. "Oh yes."

He began to move slowly, grinding his hips into me. Then he wrapped his arms around me, bringing his hands to rest on my throbbing dick. Enclosing it, he began to stroke in rhythm with his thrusts. I held off for as long as I could, but it was quick. I called his name as I spilled everything I hand into the condom, his long fingers stroking and caressing me.

As soon as he felt me come, he followed, pumping, muscles contracting for several minutes.

"Holy fuck," he cried out. "I have waited for this for so long. Oh Jas, oh fuck ..."

That evening as we performed, I looked across at Edward and then at the screaming girls. I knew one thing for certain; the only fan he was going to fuck later on was me. I could see it in his eyes.