Seeing Things

Edward makes a startling discovery that sends him running to his best friend...where he makes an even more startling discovery. AH/OOC/SLASH

A/N Stephenie Meyer owns The Twilight Saga, all characters and all related references. The Black Crowes owns the song from which I borrowed the title for this fic. I own nothing. No joke. Thanks to Zigster for betaing.

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I'm going to kill him. I'm going to fucking kill him!
I'm murderous as I speed through town, passing slow-moving traffic – and by slow, I mean driving the speed limit. I'm laying on my horn for the fuckers who won't show me some consideration by hopping the sidewalk so I can get around them, and stewing over what I stumbled upon just minutes before.
Jacob Fucking Black.
I'm going to kill him.
Not fifteen minutes ago, I got quite the surprise walking past Mr. Banner's empty classroom. I heard moans and whimpers drifting through the slightly cracked open door, so naturally, my curious ass had to see what was going down.
Apparently, what was going down was Jacob Black.
On my girlfriend.
Scratch that.
Ex-girlfriend.
That motherfucking mongrel!
I unconsciously slam my fist on the steering wheel to emphasize my inner monologue and cry out, certain that I've crushed my fingers. A horn blares as I nearly miss a head-on collision with another car and I prove that my fingers are in perfect working order when I expertly extend my middle finger in greeting to the douche I almost hit.
Ten minutes later, I find myself pulling into my best friend's driveway, putting my Volvo in park, and throwing a thrashing toddler fit in the driver's seat. Without even realizing I'm doing it, I lean my head against the steering wheel, causing the horn to blast. This apparently announces my arrival as Jasper is now knocking on my window.
Well, I'm assuming it's him. I certainly hope it's not his mother when I grumble into the steering wheel, "What the fuck do you want?"
"What the fuck do Iwant? You parked in my driveway, twatwaffle. What the fuck do you want?"
I turn away from the steering wheel to look at Jasper, and realize that he can probably tell that I've been crying in my frustration. Dammit.
He proves me right as his eyes widen, taking in my appearance and yanking open the car door. "Edward, what's wrong? Come on inside and talk to me." I'm such a pitiful fucker that I allow him to reach around me to unbuckle my seat belt. When he grasps my arm, I let him half-drag me out of the car.
"Jesus, Edward. You're scaring me. What's wrong?"
"I can't believe she let him….that she didn't…." I mumble.
"Huh? She? Are you talking about-"
"Don't say her name," I growl. "Don't even think it!"
With a curt nod, he leads me to the side door and we let ourselves inside. As we walk through the kitchen, Jasper quickly ducks his head into the fridge and grabs a couple bottles before shutting the door.
"Chocolate milk, Jazz? Seriously? What are we, fucking twelve?"
"Beggars can't be choosers, numb nuts. Take it or leave it," he retorts before heading towards the stairs, my grumbling ass in tow.
Upon reaching his bedroom, he quickly shuts the door behind us, pops the tops off our bottles of Yoo-fucking-Hoo, and hands one to me. When I plop down on his bed, I cause a bit of the beverage to slosh out of the bottle and onto my t-shirt. "Well, shit," I curse.
As if on cue, Jasper sets down his bottle and goes to his dresser. After rifling through its contents, he pulls out a t-shirt that says "Calm the Fuck Down".
"Really, Jasper? Does your mama know you wear such things?" I ask before setting down my drink and swiftly pulling my soiled shirt over my head. I raise an eyebrow when I hear him make some kind of strangled cough. "What's wrong?"
He simply shakes his head in response before he tosses me his t-shirt and grabs his bottle, only to down half the chocolate milk in two swallows. After pulling Jazz's t-shirt on, I automatically pull up a bit of the fabric and take a deep whiff. I did it out of habit; I normally do the same thing with my shirts when I get dressed at home, because Mom uses some scented detergent that just smells fuckingnice. This smells nothing like our detergent; it smells like Jasper. I find myself sniffing the fabric again, because, truth be told, Jasper doesn't smell half bad.
"What? Does it smell bad or something?" Jasper asks.
I shake my head with a sigh before settling back down on the bed.
"You gonna tell me what happened, Edward? Do I have to hurt someone?" he asks, sitting down next to me.
I couldn't hold back my snort of laughter from picturing Jasper and Jacob in a fight. Jasper is six feet tall if he's lucky and Jacob is six feet tall if he's sitting. The words "no contest" aren't strong enough. When I finally compose myself, I try my best to describe to Jasper what I discovered right before I stormed off campus and into the parking lot.
"I almost walked right past the room. Almost wish I did, but, it's better to know this kind of shit, right?" I ask. Jasper says nothing. Instead, he nods his head in agreement and takes another swig of his Yoohoo. Of course, he has no idea yet what he's agreeing with me on, but that doesn't really matter.
"She was in the back of the room, sitting on the window sill, leaning back with her leg hitched up and off to the side. And Jake…fucking Jake…he was on his knees…" I have to stop because I can't bring myself to say what exactly Jake was doing to my girl. A quick glance at Jasper's pained expression tells me that he already has a pretty good idea.
"Jasper, I don't get it. We've talked about this sort of thing many times. We've been together for a little while now and we talked about not wanting to rush into things… I mean, she was okay with that. I didn't wanna just…ya know…" I can't get my thoughts to make any sense so I decide that chugging the rest of my Yoohoo would be the next best thing.
Again, Jasper nods his head in agreement, this time with more enthusiasm.
The thing that really pisses me off is that I thought girls liked guys who were willing to respect them and wait until the time was right to be sexually intimate. I had cared about her and wanted it to be right. Never once during any of the times we made out, did it feel right enough for me to progress things past second base. Here I thought I was being a romantic, waiting for the right moment and she, apparently, had a case of blue balls.
One would think our roles would have been reversed.
And right now, I fucking hate her almost as much as I hate Jake.
"So, what are you gonna do, Edward?" he asks.
"I have no fricken clue what I wanna do about her. At the moment, I'm more concerned with what I'm gonna do about Jake," I muse.
"Not for nothing, man, but what could you do about Jake?"
Really, I have about as much of a chance at kicking Jake's ass in a fight that Jazz has. "Nothing, I guess," I grumble before adding, "they don't even know that I saw them."
Jasper takes a couple more sips of his chocolate milk, appearing to mull over the information I've shared with him. After several moments, he asks, "Well, who are you more mad at? Jake or-"
"I told you... don't even fucking say her name!" Christ! Is it too much to ask?
I glare at him as a wicked grin spreads across his face. "That tells me all I need to know."
Raising an eyebrow, I ask, "What do you mean?"
"Well, you can't even stand the thought of her name right now, so that tells me you are very pissed at her. And Jake? Well, you didn't ask for his trust did you? No. You asked for hers. She betrayed your trust and I say you respond in kind."
Looking at my best friend, I try to wrap my head around what he just suggested.
"Jazz, are you saying I should fuck around on her?"
"I wouldn't go that far," he says with a smirk. "She enjoyed a little extra-curricular oral sex, no reason why you shouldn't do the same." He finishes his statement with a wink and I suddenly find myself very much in love with my best friend. He's right. Why shouldn't I scratch the itch, too?
"Jazz, have I ever told you how much I love the way you think?"
With a chuckle, he replies, "Not often enough."
I begin to ponder the possibilities, trying to think of who I know that wouldn't mind a little random BJ rendezvous. Jessica? No, she's had her lips around seventy-five percent of the male student population; who knows what disease is currently cultivating inside her mouth? The thought makes me shudder. Victoria? No, she's a bit of a rabid bitch. With my luck, she'd probably bite it off. Thatthought makes me shudder even harder; hard enough to catch Jasper's attention.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
With a sigh, I reply, "I'm trying to think about who would be worth the effort. Coming up blank."
After a brief pause, he asks, "You've always hated Jake, right?"
Duh.
"Can't stand that cocky, muscle-bound son of a bitch," I grumble.
"Well, then I suggest you go with someone that she dislikes just as much."
Well, that certainly doesn't help me. She's actually a really sweet girl and rarely ever has a bad thing to say about anyone. The only person she has ever had a problem with is Jasper. She can't stand the fact that he and I spend so much time together. "Bros before hoes" means nothing to her, apparently. Of course, I would never use that exact phrase to describe the concept to her, but dammit, Jazz is my best friend. I shouldn't have to explain it.
"That's a valid suggestion, Jasper, but you know that you're the only person that she can't really stand." I drag my hand down my face as I start to give up on the idea. Having a random girl give me a blowjob isn't gonna change the fact that my girl cheated on me. And let's not forget that this all occurred because I wanted to wait for the right moment. Who's to say that it would be the right moment with someone else?
Jasper is staring at me.
"What?" I ask.
"I'm well aware of the fact that she can't stand me. Why do you think I would have suggested that?"
A bark of laughter immediately escapes me as I nearly fall off the bed. After a few moments of clutching my stomach in an effort to somewhat contain my amusement, I catch my breath to respond. "Christ, Jazz. That almost sounded like you-" my words cut off as I take in the expression on his face. "Holy shit, you're serious."
Jasper immediately drops his eyes and his face is tinged a furious shade of red.
Oh. My. God.
"Jasper, you're…? I mean, it's okay with me if you are…but I'm-" My verbal spew is interrupted as Jasper swiftly leans in, clasps my face… and kisses me?
His lips are warm and his hands are warmer. He gives me a few small pecks before leaning his forehead against mine. "Jasper, I-", I'm cut off again as his lips brush against mine and his hands slip from my face into my hair, tugging gently. Paralyzed in my shock, I don't know how to respond. When he whimpers against my lips and tightens his grip on my hair, a red neon sign flashes repeatedly in my head.
RIGHT TIME! RIGHT TIME! RIGHT TIME!
My hands move of their own volition as they slip around his back and attempt to pull him closer to me.
I'm kissing him back. Oh my fucking God, I'm kissing him back!
As I twist my body to face him, he raises up to his knees, looming over me; his lips never leaving mine, his hands still fisted in my hair. Without giving it a second thought, I'm raising to my knees as well, matching his stance as his lips continue to slide against mine. After pulling back to try and catch my breath, I ask, "How long have you-"
"A while," he interrupts in a grating, husky voice.
My heart is pounding in my ears and my body is filled with a fiery heat that I never once felt with her during any of our awkward gropefests. That simple kiss with Jasper was such a fucking rush!
"Do you want me to stop, Edward?" he whispers.
I shake my head furiously. "No, please don't," I beg.
With a triumphant smile, he leans in to kiss me again, pausing briefly when I part my lips. I hear his breath catch when I flick his bottom lip with my tongue, silently asking for entry. When his mouth opens the smallest bit, I tilt my head before slipping my tongue inside, his tongue hesitantly meeting mine. I can't help but moan into his mouth, he tastes so good!
Who knew?
I break the kiss to slowly drag my lips up his jawline, lightly dusted with blond stubble, to kiss the sweet spot below his ear. "Jazz…I can't believe how sweet you taste," I murmur against his skin.
His body shudders against mine and he draws in a sharp hissing breath when I start to kiss and lick the heated flesh of his neck. Bringing my lips up to his ear, I ask, "Do you like that?" His lower body answers my question as he presses himself flush against me. He's hard as a fucking rock against my leg and I'm beyond shocked at the fact that I'm just as hard knowing that I have this effect on him.
My mind is racing in so many different directions: I'm nervous about being intimate with someone new, I'm really nervous about being intimate with a guy, and I'm terrified about the fact that my reaction to Jasper means that I'm gay.
I never once considered the possibility that I might be gay. I've gone on dates with a few girls, had one serious girlfriend, and she and I shared several semi-intimate – albeit clumsy – encounters. I chose to look past the awkwardness, thinking that we were young and that it was all part of learning how to please each other. It never occurred to me that it was awkward because I was with the wrong person, or with the wrong gender.
My thoughts are interrupted as Jasper gives my neck the same attention I just gave his. Whatever verbal filter I possessed until this point has been thrown out the window as I moan, "Fuck that feels good." Encouraged, his mouth makes a trail to the other side of my neck, pausing briefly to suck at my Adam's apple. My hands, which were previously clinging to the back of his t-shirt, have now slipped down to the hem where his shirt is riding slightly above the low-slung waistband of his jeans, exposing a sliver of warm skin. I let my fingers slide up underneath his t-shirt to caress the toned flesh of his back.
"Oh, God!" he groans, his words muffled against my neck. Pulling back, he reaches behind him to pull his t-shirt over his head before throwing it across the room in the general direction of his hamper.
He nervously rakes his fingers through his hair with a half-smirk on his face. My heartbeat is deafening in my ears as I reach for the hem of the t-shirt I just, all too recently, put on. I've been in various stages of undress in front of Jasper countless times: changing clothes at each others' houses, showering at school, and swimming. Why am I nervous right now? I feel my hands shaking as I grasp the hem of the t-shirt and slowly drag it over my head before tossing it across the room to join Jasper's. I become even more nervous as he fixes a lustful gaze upon me.
Reaching out a trembling hand, he places it on my collarbone. I'm shocked to find myself leaning into his touch as it slides down my chest, fingers splayed, applying feather-light pressure to my skin, until he reaches my hip and the waistband of my jeans.
"Do you have any idea how hard it's been to not just openly gape at you every time I've seen you with your shirt off?" he asks.
Up until now, I had no idea that you could actually feel someone's eyes on you, but right now, his gaze feels like a million tiny fingers fluttering against my skin as he slowly drags his eyes down my body to follow the path of his hand. "I mean…just look at you," he sighs. Bringing both hands back up to my chest he repeats the course his hand previously made, only this time he presses his fingers into my skin, as if he's trying to push me backwards. For all I know, that just may be his intention. Goosebumps break out and spread across my body at the sensations created by both his visual and tactile appreciation of my body.
"Edward, look at me," he whispers. It's then that I realize my eyes had been closed as I lock them with his burning gaze just before he pulls me to him for another kiss. This kiss isn't timid like the first time his lips met mine. His tongue immediately darts out to sweep across my bottom lip and I am powerless to deny his unspoken request. Our tongues slide against each other, hungry and needy as the intensity of our kiss grows and before I know it, we're clinging to each other, hands gripping, caressing, and pressing until he actually does push me backwards onto the bed.
I'm panting and my heart is thrumming in my chest like an overgrown hummingbird's. My condition is only made more acute as he breaks contact with my lips and begins to kiss a swift, wet trail down my throat to my chest, down my belly and finally ending at my belt. I'm struggling to draw breath and I begin to panic, remembering that this all started because Jasper suggested I get a blowjob from someone to retaliate for the shit I witnessed in Mr. Banner's classroom. I'm not gonna lie and say that I don't want a blowjob, but right now, I'm terrified that I would last all of fifteen seconds and humiliate myself beyond measure.
"Jasper," I pant. My throat is beginning to constrict and I don't know if I'm gonna be able to voice my concern.
He looks up at me through his lashes and I'm dumbstruck by how beautiful his eyes are and how erotic it is to see his expression from this angle. A small smirk pulls up the corner of his mouth as he sits back and reaches for my belt buckle. Again, I notice his hands are trembling and I can't help but wonder if he's as nervous as I am. Instead of pulling the leather strap through the chrome buckle, he slides his hands down my thighs and gently massages the muscles beneath the denim before he bows his head.
"Edward…d-don't be mad at me," he swallows before continuing, "but, I don't think I can do this. I don't want to fuck it up. I want you but, I don't know what I'm doing."
Covering my face with my hands, I groan, "Oh, thank God!"
"Wait…what?" he asks.
After taking a few deep breaths, I prop myself up on my elbows to look at him. "I was just thinking that I may not be ready for this. I was scared shitless that I'd embarrass myself and blow it damn near immediately."
His shoulders sag with relief as he asks, "So, you're not mad?"
"No," I chuckle, "not at all."
His smile takes up the entire bottom half of his face as he leans in to kiss me again.
"I can't fucking believe how much I enjoy kissing you," I murmur against his lips.
"I can't fucking believe that I finally worked up the balls to just kiss you," he chuckles against mine.
I let my upper body fall back against the pillows, taking Jasper with me as we continue to enjoy the feeling of our lips on each other. Before long, though, our hips prove they have a mind of their own as they start to grind against one another. Jasper is haphazardly sprawled out on top of me, his left hand holding my right hand above my head, and he's straddling my left leg. The friction feels fucking incredible as Jasper sets a rhythm of rolling his hips against me as my hips repeatedly lift of the bed in answer.
"Oh, God," he whispers as he drops his head to my shoulder. In truth, it sounded more like he whispered, "Ho guuhh," but I'm pretty sure he meant "Oh, God". It doesn't really matter because I am not physically capable of anything more complicated than a groan or a grunt as my hips begin to thrust harder against him.
As reluctant as I am to release Jasper's hand where he has it pinned above my head into the mattress, I wrench it free and bring it, along with my other hand, to Jasper's ass and encourage him to grind harder against me.
I certainly didn't come over here with the intention of getting dry-humped by my best friend on his bed, but damn it if I wasn't really fricken close to coming right now from just that.
"Fuck, Edward," he growls in my ear as I squeeze the firm muscles of his ass.
Forget soft and curvy. Give me hard and firm any fucking day!
Jasper starts to thrust his hips against me with abandon as his hot mouth leaves wet kisses, licks, and none-too-gentle bites along my shoulder. The familiar tightening spring sensation twists in my groin and the rush of electric current surges in my veins, signaling my impending climax.
"Fuck yeah, Jazz. Just like that. You're gonna make me come," I grunt, squeezing him harder.
I'll take "Words I Never Dreamed I'd Ever Fucking Say to My Best Friend" for $400, Alex!
Following a low, deep moan, his thick, lust-filled voice fills my ear, "You have no fucking clue how badly I've wanted to hear you say those words to me." When he sucks my earlobe into his mouth, I'm a goner. I hiss as my body stiffens beneath him and my orgasm surges through me. "Ugh…that's it, come for me, Edward," he groans.
Before I can even think about recovering from the strength of my climax, Jasper shocks the fuck out of me by flipping me onto my stomach like I'm some rag doll. Reaching between my belly and mattress, he uses his arm to lift my lower body off the bed until I'm on my knees with my ass in the air.
"Jesus, Jasper! What the fu-" I gasp just before he grabs my hips in a death grip and continues his vigorous thrusting, only now, instead of against my erection, it's against my ass.
I never believed that one could forget to breathe, so imagine my surprise when I did just that. Imagine my even greater surprise as I not only have forgotten how to breathe, but that I have also begun to rock back on my knees to meet each of his thrusts against me.
When my lungs are full to the point of bursting, I finally release it in a gush as I cry out, "Sweet fucking Christ!"
I don't even have time to try to process my thoughts about what's happening before Jasper grunts, "Fuck!" and his body stills behind me. By some alien compulsion, I continue to rock back on my knees to press against him. Moments later, he collapses on the bed beside me and pulls me onto my side, drawing my back against his chest. Our breathing is ragged-mine burning in my chest, his hot against my back as I hold tight to his arms wrapped around my waist.
Finally, after several moments, Jasper finds his voice. "Edward, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me, I just couldn't stop myself. Please God, tell me you don't hate me-" he stammers.
"Jazz, I don't hate you. Just calm the fuck down and breathe," I whisper, trying desperately to take my own advice.
For a good while, the only sounds in the room are our labored breathing; mine through my mouth, his through his nose as he intermittently nuzzles the back of my neck.
"I've fantasized about having you in my bed more times than I could count, Edward. I was just so overwhelmed by everything that I just snapped…please, forgive me."
Swallowing hard, I answer, "Forgive you for what, Jasper? I wasn't exactly complaining."
If nothing else, this should help us skip that whole awkward "Top or Bottom" conversation later.
I chuckle at the absurdity of the thought and inwardly cringe as the reality of our situation sets in. If the thought of a blowjob made me nervous, the thought of that just plain scares me to death.
Truth be told, the thought that terrifies me out of my skull is…what now? This afternoon went from me being homicidal from catching Jake and my girl getting down and dirty at school, to joking around with Jasper about a revenge blowjob, to curious kisses and touches, to grinding on the bed, to Jasper all but fucking me with my pants on. Jasper's made it clear that he's been into me for a while, but this is all so fucking new to me.
I've never had a problem with homosexuality. I still don't! That doesn't, however, change the fact that I'm scared about possibly being gay.
Possibly? Before today, you've been lucky to reach second base with a girl. If it weren't for two layers of denim and boxers you just rounded home plate with a guy. That, does not a straight man make.
"I don't regret what just happened, Jasper. I am nervous about where we go from here, though," I say with a sigh.
"Me, too," Jasper mumbles against my neck as he tightens his arms around my waist.
I nearly jump out of my skin when there's a knock on Jasper's bedroom door.
"Edward, honey, will you be joining us for dinner?" his mother asks through the door. For a moment, I begin to panic, wondering how she knew I was here.
Christ, did she hear us?
Seconds later, I feel stupid as I realize that my car is in the driveway. Duh.
Jasper kisses the spot where my neck meets my shoulders, causing me to shiver before I can respond to her question. "Please stay," he whispers.
"Yes, ma'am. If you don't mind, that is," I call back to her.
"Not at all, sweetie. Dinner should be ready in thirty, boys!" she says before I hear the sound of her retreating footsteps.
She no sooner leaves when my jeans pocket begins to vibrate against my thigh. I'm momentarily confused due to the fact that I just nearly had a heart attack from almost getting caught in bed with Jasper by his mother. I quickly realize it's my cell phone signaling a text. Rolling over in Jasper's embrace onto my back, I pull out my cell to see who is trying to get a hold of me.
Message received from Alice Cell.
"Ahh, fuck. I so don't wanna deal with you right now," I groan.
"What's wrong?" Jasper asks as I open the message.
Are we still on for dinner?
"Uh, that would be a giant 'Fuck no', sweetheart," I say as I start to click out a reply.
"Uh-oh. Is that her?" he asks, looking over my shoulder at my cell.
I nod as I continue my message.
I've made other plans. Why don't you let Jake take you to dinner?
Send.
Turning off my cell phone, I slip it back into my pocket before rolling over onto my side to face Jasper.
"Did you just break up with your girlfriend via text message?"
"More or less. I'll talk with her face-to-face tomorrow. Right now, I just don't want to deal with her."
"What do you wanna deal with right now, Edward?" he asks, searching my eyes for answers to his question.
"I'm a bit overwhelmed, Jasper. It's like I'm seeing things for the first time today. First Alice, then you. I'm angry, confused, scared..." I let my thoughts trail off as I play with a blond curl by his ear.
"I don't know if I can help you with the confused and scared part, because truthfully, I'm right there with you. As far as being angry, that is completely understandable. I can't undo what she did to you, but I can promise to never treat you that way. I won't ever do that to you, Edward."
I can't help but smile at the thought that my best friend just promised to be true to me.
"You know how I can tell you're feeling better?" he asks with a grin.
Um, let's see…I'm still coming down from an amazing orgasm high? I'm smiling? I just threw my leg over your hip like it was the most natural thing in the world?
"How's that, Jazz?" I ask, humoring him.
"You said her name," he responds with a smirk.
Huh.
"I did, didn't I?"
"I'd much rather hear you say my name though…repeatedly," he croons in my ear.
Smiling even though he can't see it, I reply, "You know what? That doesn't sound like such a bad idea."
A/N Video for Seeing Things by The Black Crowes.

The Replacement

 

Emmett is a closeted Calvin Klein model. Slashy bathroom times and food fights after PA, Jasper, gets pulled in to join Emmett's photoshoot.

A/N Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, its characters and everything else. I merely own the laptop on which I wrote this. This is a story written for Beate73's birthday.

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I leaned against the kitchen counter, growing restless as phone calls were made, angry words were thrown and the spotlights made me sweat like a bitch. Leave it up to Rosalie to decide that she had something better to do than to show up for a shoot. It wasn't like this hadn't been planned for months and already postponed twice due to my schedule. I finally managed to land a role in a film that started shooting in less than two weeks and rehearsals started yesterday. I was already on a shit-list and I really didn't want to fuck this up.
"Found her!" Mike yelled. "She's at the god damned spa." The last word fell off his lips like he just said that she was in a third world country deworming orphans or something equally sexy.
"Well?" the photographer asked, exasperated. "When can we expect her Majesty?" He rolled his eyes to emphasize his disdain.
Mike still had the phone to his ear and gave the photographer - Aro, I think his name was - a helpless shrug.
"Make sure she knows that if she's not here in fifteen, she's being replaced and I will see to it that Calvin Klein will refuse to work with her in the future."
Replaced. Please, let her get fucking replaced! I thought to myself, trying to appear nonchalant, which was fairly difficult standing in this makeshift kitchen with nothing but a robe and a pair of boxer briefs on.
I could see Mike off to the side violently whispering and grumbling into his phone, and flailing his arms as if the person on the other line could see how pissed off he was. It wasn't hard to imagine his frustration with the situation, for how would he line up someone else on such short notice? At the same time I could also see the gears in Aro's mind turning, looking for an alternative solution, lips pursed, brow furrowed, giving some of the crew a once-over and doing that retarded director's hand-frame thing. It took me all of four seconds to realize he was considering pulling in a crew member to take Rosalie's place. It would be a behind-the-scener's dream come true. I certainly didn't see anyone worthwhile, a few of the girls were definitely rocking the plain-Jane look, but had no shape to speak of. Groaning, I prayed that Aro didn't select Jessica, she was so small built that I doubted a pair of briefs would stay on her non-existent hips.
For once, Bella wasn't around for a shoot. That was a crying shame as she would look fantastic in a pair of tiny briefs and an A-shirt. Having her in the shoot would be rather difficult to explain, though since our very publicized break-up. The term "break-up" was very tongue in cheek, because even though she was seeing someone besides me, we never were technically together. However, when she fell in love with this Edward fella, I was very hard pressed to hold her back. She may had been my beard, but she was my friend first and foremost. I couldn't ask her not see the guy just to avoid blowing my cover.
And as it was, my cover was about to blown to fucking pieces anyway. Aro grabbed a PA by the elbow, turning him this way and that, manhandling him and giving him a rather thorough once over. I half expected Aro to ask him to turn his head and fucking cough. My breath hitched in my throat as Aro yanked up the hem on the front of his t-shirt to expose his tight, rippling abs, and I literally choked when Aro tugged the waistband of his jeans out slightly to take a peek at what he wore beneath the denim.
"Look at you," Aro purred. "You're already wearing the label." Spinning the poor guy around, he tugged the waistband of the back of his jeans out to get a look at his ass.
"Christ, pops, want me to just take the pants off?" The PA said with a roll of his eyes and a pop of his chewing gum.
"Well, it would be easier to assess the fit, so yes. Lose the jeans," he remarked, absently, as if he had no clue what the situation was doing to me. I held back a groan as I secured my robe around my waist.
Not only did he lose the jeans, but the PA reached behind his head to pull off his t-shirt, until he was standing amidst the rest of the crew in nothing but a pair of blue Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Aro did an excruciatingly slow walk around him, eyes appearing to burn red angry streaks into the guy's skin.
"They're a little big on you. They need to be more snug like Emmett's. Show him what I mean, Em."
I prayed the tiny squeak I heard in my ears did not just come out of my mouth. "Excuse me?" I wheezed. He did not just ask me to show this guy how my briefs were practically painted on like a second skin. "Um, you want him to take Rosalie's place?"
Deflecting was what I normally did best, though this time, I found myself backpedalling, because I apparently just insulted the PA. At least, that's what I gathered by the abrupt halt to his gum chewing.
"Um...wait. That's not what I meant. Aro's got a great eye, man, I'm not doubting that but...can't we get someone who is, you know, uh...not a dude?"
Please just keep talking long enough for me to get rid of this boner!
"Emmett, I was told you were versatile, that you could work with anyone. I would hate to have a talk with your agent and let her know that she was mistaken," Aro grumbled, his words dripping like aggravated acid.
"Sir, I can work with anyone...this is just the first time I've been asked to work with a guy. I'm a little out of my element."
Of course, that was a crock of shit, when you take into account that my element was taking some hot thing I met at the club back to my apartment, sucking him dry and fucking him stupid. Of course, I wouldn't be doing that for the CK shoot, but still...
"What's your name, kid?" Aro asked the PA, who was standing next to him with one arm cocked behind his back and his other hand tugging at the leg band of his briefs.
"Jasper Whitlock." He answered Aro, but he looked at me and I knew there wasn't a chance in hell that my boner would go away.
Just as Aro motioned for the wardrobe girl to bring over the rack of way too many pairs of masculine undergarments, I quickly crossed over to Jasper Whitlock, PA and Underwear Model Extraordinaire and grabbed him by the arm, practically dragging him out of the studio to the closest restroom. To Jasper's credit, he didn't seem to mind that I was parading him around in his underwear; he certainly didn't struggle to pull out of my grasp. Finding salvation in a men's room sign, I pulled him in with me, checked the stalls, and finally turned the lock on the outer door.
I felt like I was about to throw up because I knew it was either tell him about my sexuality now, or let him be shocked and possibly repulsed by it when he discovered that I was as hard as fucking granite because of him. His face was utterly calm, reflecting none of the worry I was projecting, nor the anxiety that was surely pouring off me in crushing waves.
"Dude, I thought that it was just chicks that had to take a piss in pairs," Jasper scoffed, absurdly popping another tiny bubble in his chewing gum.
His dark blond hair appeared to hang past his chin, but he had it pulled back in a short ponytail, exposing hair closely cropped to the sides of his head, as if at one point it had been shaved completely. Light stubble clung to his jaw, dusting the muscles that clenched and unclenched as he worked his gum mercilessly.
"Jasper, I'm gay." Up front and direct. Honesty was the best policy, right?
The corner of his mouth quirked, twitching into the sexiest fucking smirk I ever had the pleasure of witnessing. And God damn it, if that smirk, and the slightest flash of teeth didn't make me infinitely harder.
Jasper Whitlock, I hereby dub thee Smirky McFuckMe.
"So that's why you were reluctant to show me the goods?" he asked, his smirk morphing into a smile as he crossed his arms across his chiseled pecs. "Mind showing me now, how well those briefs fit you, Mr. McCarty?"
"You serious?" I croaked.
"As a heart attack," he answered, unabashedly staring at my crotch through the robe.
"Are you...?"
"Gay as an angel in a trench coat," he answered, motioning towards the tie of my robe with his hand and quirking an eyebrow.
Did he just make a crack at Supernatural? Of course, I'm still crossing my fingers that Dean drops the straight act around Castiel just once...
Lost in my haze, my hands moved to the tie of my robe without a direct order from my brain, and after loosening the knot, I full on flashed the man. Like a pervy angel in a trench coat.
"I could see how that might be a problem," Jasper said, openly gazing at my problem.
"Ya think?" I asked with a half chuckle.
If it were possible, his smile got even wider, full of gleaming white teeth and dimples for miles.
"So, that's for me?" he asked and fucking licked his lips.
I had a sudden vivid vision of this smirky, scruffy, dimply pretty boy on his knees for me and I just knew that if he so much as touched me right then, that I would burst like a cheap water balloon.
"I'd be happy to alleviate some pressure if you want," he said, his voice suddenly deeper and full of grit.
He moved so quickly, I almost didn't see him toss his chewing gum in the wastebasket before he was on his knees and nuzzling my hard-on, the head of which was peeking over the waistband of my white briefs in happy glistening greeting.
Okay, so I was wrong about exploding right away. He's touching me, quite enthusiastically, I might add, rubbing his face all up in my junk and my fingers are fucking itching to grip his head and hold him still while I attempted to fuck his face through my underwear.
"Say the word, McCarty and I'll do it," he said, running the tip of his nose up the length of my erection.
Swallowing hard a couple of times, I murmured, "The word."
Jasper pulled back to look up at me, confused for a moment before realization dawned on his pretty face and he let out a small snort of laughter. "Smart ass."
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my briefs and began to tug the tight fabric off my hips, slipping his hands to the back and scratching his blunt nails into the flesh of my butt.
"You keep talking about ass, and you're gonna find yourself turned around and on all fours, Jasper."
"I'll have to remember that," he chuckled, right before he wrapped his smirky lips around my cock.
"Sweet mother of...mmmmph..." I groaned, tilting my head back, squeezing my eyes shut and biting my lip.
Scruffy Smirktastic wasted no time and immediately began bobbing his head, slurping and sucking my dick. When I brought my eyes back to his face and saw that he was watching me, green eyes glittering beneath his fluttering eyelashes as he worked me, I knew I was a goner.
"Fucking hell, Whitlock. God damn it, that's hot," I moaned.
Some people were natural born writers, others natural born musicians or athletes. Jasper Whitlock was a born cocksucker and I was incredibly close to showing him my appreciation for his gift.
"Jasper...I'm..."
I watched in awe as he pulled his mouth off of me, kept his lips parted with his tongue barely hanging out in offering, while his long fingers rapidly pumped my length. In seconds, I shot in his mouth. Well, mostly in his mouth. My body jerked, causing a bit of my pleasure to land on his cheek, speckling his scruff as he chuckled with his mouth still open.
Without even thinking, my hand drifted to his cheek, collecting a bit of the warm pearly liquid there. His head immediately turned to take my fingers into his mouth.
"Shit, you're killing me," I choked.
Smirk back in place, he stood to his feet and pulled my briefs back up to cover me before nonchalantly going to the sink to splash some water on his face. After grabbing some paper towels to dry himself, he smiled and asked, "What now? I don't even know what the hell I'm supposed to be doing in the shoot."
Blinking, I emitted an eloquent, "Huh?"
Oh yeah, there's supposed to be a photoshoot going on, isn't there?
"I dunno, just um, just use your judgment, I guess. Haven't been given any direction yet. All I know is that we'll be in a fucking kitchen," I finally answered with a chuckle.
We eventually made our way back to the studio to meet an exasperated Aro holding his hands up in the air. "Can we please get this show on the road? That is, if it's convenient for you."
Jasper swiftly changed into a pair of, incredibly snug-fitting black briefs. If he hadn't helped me "relieve some pressure" only minutes before, I would have had an even bigger problem then I had before this whole shebang started.
"Good GAWD, these are tight!" Jasper exalaimed before doing a couple of squats in an attempt to stretch them out.
"Stop. It," I growled, to which he chuckled before standing, hopping up and down on balls of his feet.
"Today, gentleman," Aro grumbled, checking some mysterious setting on his camera.
Jasper, as it turned out was quite the natural. Of course, starting out, our initial instructions were to do some simple random natural stuff around the kitchen: rummage around in the fridge, eat a piece of fruit, wash dishes. I actually started to get aggravated with that last instruction. How was my washing some plates gonna help Calvin Klein sell some underwear? Did I ask that? That would be a negative. I was, however, grateful that Aro didn't give some kind of direction requiring Jasper to touch me. I was fairly certain he planned to have Rosalie fawning all over me, hanging on me, grabbing me, all out molesting me...thank fuck Aro didn't seem to have that in mind with Jasper.
Leave it to Jasper, though to get creative and decide that it would be a good idea to make a PB&J. Aro didn't seem to mind; I could hear the rapid-fire clicks from his camera. Apparently, he thought it was good stuff. I turned around, leaning my back against the sink, and watched him with my arms crossed over my chest. He had his back to the adjacent counter holding a slice of bread as he spread some grape jelly on top of his peanut butter before he bit his lip and smirked at me.
I didn't have time to react before he flung a glob of jelly off the knife, hitting me square in the chin.
Oh, no you didn't!
I could hear chuckles from the crew and I stood there, mouth agape before taking a swipe of the jelly with my hand.
"You wanna play?" I whispered. "I can play."
I quickly reached behind me to grab the sink sprayer, turning the faucet on full blast before letting the icy water loose. His voice jumped half an octave as he cried, "Oh, SHIT!" and dropped his half sandwich and the jelly slinger, attempting to shield himself from my attack.
"There ya go, Emmett. Don't stop. Let him have it!" Aro coached.
I pulled the sprayer out as far as it would go and managed to grab Jasper by the shoulder, holding him still while I let my ammo rain down on his head. I should have been paying attention to what his hands were doing, because I never saw that he happened to get a couple handfuls of peanut butter out of the jar before he broke free of my grasp and smushed the stuff in my face.
"You son of a bmmmphhh!" The shit was every where, in my mouth, up my nose...enough was enough.
I ducked down and grabbed him around the waist, hoisting his lean frame into the air and throwing him over my shoulder in a fireman's carry. "Uh huh! What now, hot shot?"
Before the last word left my mouth, I felt a stinging slap on my ass and I nearly dropped him. Instead of dropping him, I bit my lip and slapped his ass just as hard, earning a yelp that was fucking music to my ears. Victorious that I seemed to have gotten the best of him, I turned around and tossed him, dripping and laughing onto the counter top. I couldn't help but laugh along with him right up until he caught me by surprise...again...and smeared two sticky jelly covered hands down my face. Apparently taking advantage of my surprise, he leaned in and fucking licked my cheek before wiping the back of his hand across his face.
"You think you're fucking funny?" I growled at him and got a pair of raised eyebrows and a triumphant grin in response.
Ignoring the chuckling from the crew, I decided to turn the tables. I grabbed his face in my hands and kissed him.
I fucking kissed him in front of God and everyone.
The cat was defintely out of the bag...or so I thought until I heard a couple random voices behind me whisper, "I knew it!"
And the clicking of Aro's camera never stopped.

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A/N Thanks for reading!

Need an Excuse

When a prank goes awry, Jasper gets trapped in the closet with Edward, the best friend he has been secretly crushing on. AH/OOC/SLASH
 
A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, its characters, and everything else. I merely own the laptop on which I wrote this. Thanks to Dark Absynthe for betaing. Days of the New owns the song from which I drew my inspiration for this fic. When a prank goes awry, Jasper gets trapped in the closet with Edward, the best friend he has been secretly crushing on. AH/OOC/SLA

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"Dude, I really don't think this is a good idea." It certainly sounded like a good idea at the time. However, while watching Edward dig around in Bella's potted ferns desperately searching for her house key, I realized that this just might blow up in our faces.
"Seriously, Edward. We could get in a fuckton of trouble if we're caught. I think we should just quit while we're ahead," I begged in a harsh whisper. The sun had set hours ago and the last thing I needed was a nosy neighbor wondering what two guys were doing messing around with Bella's plants when she clearly wasn't home.
"Ahead? How are we ahead, Jasper? Bella got the last word and I am not about to leave it at that," he whispered back, digging his hands into the potting soil.
Edward, very recently, had a pretty bad argument with his now ex-girlfriend, Bella, which resulted in her sending him packing with the parting words, "My vibrator's a better lay."
You see, evidently, Bella wasn't all too satisfied with Edward's "performance" in bed. I mean, sitting back and looking at things, I could definitely see a problem getting it up for her, but I had a completely different set of difficulties when it came to that.
I'm gay.
To date, I've successfully kept that little bit of information under wraps. Not that I was ashamed, but I saw no need to complicate things. Really, at the moment, I've only ever truly been interested in one guy, and said object of interest was very much concerned with the fairer sex, and that would, of course, complicate things.
So, why was I helping my best friend get back at Bella for tearing his ego to shreds? Well, he's my best friend for one, duh. That should really go without saying. My secondary line of thought was how I couldn't understand why she felt she wasn't getting the hottest piece of ass on the planet. Edward just exuded sex from every fucking pore and, while that drove me out of my God damn mind, it pissed me off even more to see that Bella didn't appreciate that.
"Seriously, man. This is breaking and entering or something. We are so fucked if she goes running to Daddy saying that we broke into her house." My stomach was in knots at this point. I wanted to back out in the worst fucking way.
"Jazz," he said, while digging in another fern, "it's not breaking and entering when you have a key. And really, do you truly believe she will go to the Chief of Police telling him that we broke into her house and stole her vibrator?"
Good point.
Suddenly, I heard Edward whisper/shout, "Score!" as he held up a grubby, gold key; his hands and wrists coated in top soil.
And so began Operation Box Block. We were gonna pilfer her prized toy.
Someone shoot me for thinking this was a good idea.
Edward thrust the key into the lock and with a flick of his wrist, open Sesame.
After we slipped into the house, I quickly shut the door behind me and locked it. Edward whipped around after hearing the click of the deadbolt and asked, "Why did you feel the need to lock us in Bella's house, man?" I simply shrugged, not entirely sure why I locked the door.
"'K, dude…bedroom's this way," Edward said as I followed him through the foyer and past the living room. We avoided turning on any lights to illuminate our path; it would just be that much harder to cover our tracks on the way out.
As I walked through the bedroom doorway, I fingered the beaded curtain that was pulled off to the side in lieu of a door. Bella was a beatnik of sorts. It seemed as though her entire house was decorated a la Grateful Dead. Everywhere you turned, there were beads, tie-dyed somethings, incense holders with burnt remains of fragrant incense, and shit I couldn't even identify.
Edward was already furiously opening and closing drawers, frantically looking for the vibrator and I simply stood there with my hand in my hair, wondering how wise it would be for me to be spreading my fingerprints around Bella's bedroom.
"Jazz, don't just stand there! Help me! The sooner we find this thing, the sooner we can be outta here," he said, dropping to his belly to start looking under the bed.
I left the bedroom, wandering back into the living room. Not that I thought I'd be of any help in here, but I could only take so much of seeing Edward on the floor with his ass slightly in the air. That would only serve to complicate things.
I stopped at a rattan end table positioned at the end of a putrescent green colored couch and picked up a book that leaned up against the lamp to check out the title.
Beatnik reads the fucking Bible?
I set it back against the lamp and wiped my hand on my jeans. Not that I felt the Bible was dirty, but the sheer thought of holding it made my palms sweat.
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been an eternity, or never, really, since my last Confession. I've been having impure thoughts about taking my best friend on the floor of his ex-girlfriend's bedroom and I can't promise it won't happen again.
Making my way to the other end of the living room, I began to take in the framed photos that decorated the wall and my eyes settled on one in particular. It was black and white, and the subjects were Bella and Edward taken by Bella in front of a mirror. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, exposing her neck and her eyes were locked in fervent concentration with her head tilted to peer through the view finder. Edward stood behind Bella with his arms wrapped around her, pressing his lips to the skin of her neck. The gentle kiss accentuated the sharp line of his jaw, a jaw that was sprinkled with a five o' clock shadow. His hair appeared as though his hands had an epic battle in the middle of it, skewing off in all directions, several locks hanging in front of his closed eyes, an almost stark contrast to the thick, lush dark lashes that framed them.
Fuck, he's beautiful.
Completely lost in my reverie, I nearly missed hearing the key working in the front door.
Shit!
I sprinted back towards the bedroom and collided with Edward in the doorway.
In a hushed, frantic whisper, I said, "Bella's home. We've gotta fucking hide!"
Edward's hands immediately went to his hair as he began to bounce on the balls of his feet, slipping into panic mode.
I heard a muttered, "Fuck!" come from Bella on the other side of the door, followed by the sound of her flip-flops retreating back down the walkway.
Grabbing me by the arm, Edward yanked me towards the living room. "We can probably make it to the back door through the kitchen before she gets back," he muttered. The words were no sooner out of his mouth when Bella was again, at the door, working her key in the lock.
We're so fucking dead.
I looked behind us at the coat closet, and slid the slotted door open and pulled Edward inside with me.
Well, at least I thought it was a coat closet. Apparently it was a closet where Beatnik Bella stored all her junk. There wasn't even a bar to hang coats on. Glancing around, I tried to make sense of my surroundings in vain. Soft light from the foyer spilled through the wooden slats of the door, but it wasn't sufficient to illuminate the objects we were now pressed against. There was barely room in here for us to breathe, let alone move.
Who was it that decided that this evening was gonna be "Edward and Jasper's Fucktarded Idea Night?"
"Good fucking plan, Jasper. Now what?" Edward hissed.
Fuck if I know.
My back was against the wall and I could just see through the slats of the door over Edward's shoulder as Bella finally entered the house.
Edward, with his back to the door, hitched in a breath as he realized that Bella was now right behind him. Reflexively, I covered his mouth with my hand, leaving him to breathe heavily through his nose and I could barely make out the panic in his eyes as I brought a finger up to my lips indicating for him to shut the fuck up. He nodded, showing me that he understood and I strained to see through the slats as Bella drifted through the living room, dropping her ghastly hippie wrap, her purse, and keys on various pieces of furniture behind her as she made her way towards, presumably, her bedroom.
"I think she went to her bedroom," I whispered.
Edward adjusted his body against me, trying to turn around.
"What are you doing?" I hissed, when I wanted to groan.
"I'm gonna try to get out. If she left the room, we can make a break for the door," he whispered.
No!
"You know damn well she'll probably be right back in here for something…" my whisper was cut off by Bella returning to the living room to plop on the couch with a sigh.
Fuck the world. Sometimes I hate being right.
So here I was, shoved in a closet with my best friend – who I just happened to be more than a little attracted to – watching Bella on the couch. Doing nothing.
I could see the panic in Edward's eyes as he mouthed the words, "What is she doing?"
"Nothing," I mouthed back. To this Edward rolled his eyes. I could relate. As much as I would normally enjoy being this close to Edward, being here under these circumstances, and that pesky little thing about him being straight, were really starting to piss me off.
Why the hell did I agree to this shit?
After several more moments of fucking nothing, Bella finally stands up. Does she go to leave the room? No. She goes to the stereo. I was not in the mood for whatever hippie bullshit she was about to lay on us.
Imagine my surprise to hear "Touch, Peel, and Stand" drifting through the speakers.
Imagine my even greater surprise to feel Edward's body shaking in what appeared to be a silent chuckle.
Since the music was turned up a bit, I took a chance to whisper to Edward. "What's so fucking funny?"
"She's thinking about me," he whispered back.
"Days of the New says that how, exactly?"
"Every time I played this song for her, it turned her on like nobody's business," he whispered, chuckling again.
Edward and I both play guitar, it's one of the things that brought us together as friends when we met in middle school. I have never heard him play this particular song, though and just imagining him playing, and his gritty voice singing this song…fuck. It started to turn me on a little.
I heard another chuckle from Edward. This time I just sighed and raised an eyebrow at him. What now?
"Dude, you're hard."
Oh fuck. Kill me now. Please.
"Close quarters, Bella's dancing like a gypsy, can't help it, man, I'm sorry." He didn't have to know that Beatnik's dancing wasn't doing anything for me.
"Don't worry about it. I just wish I could turn around,"
Believe me. I wish you could, too.
So, what did he do? He shifted his body again, somehow thinking he can turn around.
And holy hell. I'm not the only one with a problem.
"Shut it, Jazz. Don't you say a word."
I swallowed hard and tried my damndest to keep my eyes from rolling in the back of my head.
"Wasn't about to," I lied.
I wasn't even paying attention to what song came on next because Bella went back to the couch, and picked up the fucking Bible.
"When did Bella get religion, Edward?" This had to be a new development. Here I was thinking that she had it on her end table for decoration and she just now picked it up like she was actually gonna read it.
"I wasn't aware that she did," he whispered.
"Well she's about to read the Bible so apparently she did." Peculiar.
Turning around, she leaned against the arm of the couch, with her back to us, getting cozy before opening the Good Book.
Holy fucking shit.
"Um, Edward?" I asked.
"What?"
"I found her vibrator." Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Edward eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
"She hides her vibrator in the fucking Bible."
"No way, man. No fucking way!"
Her positioning obstructed my view from what she was actually doing, but when she discarded the Bible and hiked up her skirt, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out where that thing was heading. I couldn't hear the buzz of the vibrator over the music, but I could definitely make out her soft whimpers and moans as her toy apparently did its job.
"Fucking Christ," Edward groaned before dropping his forehead to my shoulder.
Fucking Christ, indeed. The last thing I needed was another part of Edward touching me. As it was, our bodies were pressed flush against each other. Of course, what Bella was doing on the couch didn't affect me at all, however, feeling Edward's arousal pressed against mine, and the feel of his hot breaths on my shoulder caused me to grow even harder.
How did I get myself into this mess?
And then Bella had to open her fucking mouth.
"Edward," she moaned.
"Shit!" Edward whimpered and bit down on my shoulder.
I know he did it to muffle the groan that followed, but for a split second, my erection did a little happy dance because Edward's mouth was on me.
"Oh God, I'm sorry. It's just…she's thinking of me while she's….fuck!" he hissed against my shoulder.
I shook my head to indicate that he shouldn't worry about it. At this point, I was afraid to open my mouth and make a complete ass out of myself.
Bella was a pretty vocal gal, apparently. Why wouldn't she shut the fuck up? Didn't she know what she was doing to Edward and, as a result doing to me? Of course she didn't; otherwise we wouldn't still be in the closet. We'd be sitting in a cell with her Daddy tapping the bars menacingly with his service revolver.
"Jasper, I'm dying here."
"Tune her out, man. Try not to think about it."
Please, for the love of everything holy!
"Christ, I can't. The only way I can get rid of this thing is to use it, and that's kind of impossible right now." I can barely hear his whisper but I could tell he was in his own little hell at the moment.
I was right there with him.
Shit, Bella was enjoying herself. From my vantage point, I could see that she hiked one leg up onto the back of the couch and I was able to see the flurry of movement of her arm as she furiously worked herself with the toy.
"Ung…Edward, please!" Bella squealed.
"Fuck, Jazz…I can't take her begging…" he groaned before pressing into me, inadvertently grinding his erection into mine.
That did me in.
Almost unconsciously, I ground my hips into his and couldn't help the soft moan that fell from my lips. I swallowed hard a couple of times, trying to catch my breath as I realized that Edward couldn't catch his.
Looking into his eyes I was prepared to see revulsion and shock, but I was fucking floored to see his eyes alight with mischief and the trademark smirk he wore when he was up to no good.
"You know what, Jazz? I think you're on to something."
Excuse me?
Before I could fucking blink, Edward ground into me again, this time with purpose.
The air left my lungs in a gush and Edward let out a shuddering breath as his head fell to my shoulder again. I knew he thought my state of arousal just had to do with the show Bella was putting on and, this alone, was the one thing that kept me from grabbing him by the hips and showing him that it was all his fault.
Right now, my hands were twitching by my sides as Edward's were pressed against the wall behind me on either side of my waist. As his breaths turned to ragged pants, I felt his hands shift against the wall and work their way closer toward my body.
No way. No fucking way.
"I'm sorry…don't be mad at me…I..I can't help it," he whispered in my ear.
I couldn't say anything in response and thought my heart would stop when his hands settled on my hips. Instead of stopping, it sped up as I pressed harder against him.
"Jesus, Jasper…seems you need this as much as I do," Edward gasped.
You have no fucking clue.
Off in some distant land I could hear Bella swiftly approaching her climax as her cries grew more insistant. And, of course, as the intensity and volume of her vocalizations increased, so did Edward's. Soft, restrained moans and whimpers bathed my ear and he actually began to rhythmically grind his hips against me.
And I was all too fucking happy to let him continue, and to press my hips back against him in response.
Before long, Edward wasn't just pressing against me, but tilting his hips to repeatedly slide himself up and down the length of my cock. My brain sent the words, "Oh, fuck" to my vocal chords, but what actually emerged on a gasp was, "Ho fuuuu," as I began to meet every shallow thrust of his hips.
This may have been a means to an end for him, but I was in fucking heaven. And just when I thought this was as good as it was gonna get, Edward gripped one of my thighs in his hand and hiked my leg up on his hip, holding it there as he adjusted the angle of his thrusts.
Holy Christ!
"Jasper," he panted, "please tell me this is okay."
I could only rapidly nod in response and bury my face in his neck.
"I know. This is so fucked up, isn't it?" he chuckled.
Indeed.
Fucked up as it was, it didn't stop him. In fact, his rhythm began to pick up and he began to thrust against me just a little bit harder.
All too soon, I felt the familiar tightening in my balls signaling an orgasm and I just knew that I was about to embarrass the fuck out of myself just before Edward turned his head slightly to whimper in my ear, "Christ, Jasper…I'm fucking coming,"
At the sound of pitiful desperation in his voice, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and increased the force of my bucking hips in an effort to spur him on. That would have been sufficient had I not let my control slip the smallest amount by brushing my lips against the skin of his shoulder left uncovered by the collar of his t-shirt.
Edward suddenly stiffened against me, causing my stomach to do a somersault at the thought that I not only just outed myself, but weirded him the fuck out in the process.
I held my breath as Edward struggled to catch his after he pulled back to look me in the eye. Before I could even apologize, his lips were on mine.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.
I was too shocked to do anything. Edward was kissing me! Holy hell!
"Jasper," he sighed against my lips. As much as I fought it, I could not hold back my resultant whimper as I took his bottom lip between my own and gently sucked.
Edward resumed thrusting his cock against me and gripped my thigh even harder in his hand as I continued to kiss him. All the while, I worked like a mad man to burn this memory into my brain because I just knew that something like this would never happen again.
Seconds later the fire in my loins began to grow again and I felt Edward's thrusts falter slightly and I realized that, once again, he was just as close as I was.
While our own little drama unfolded in the closet, Bella's cries were abbreviated and choked as she ascended toward her climax. I couldn't care less. The closet could have been invaded by a clan of militant smurfs and I would have paid them no mind.
"Fuck!" Bella squealed.
Not three seconds later, I found myself nearly slamming my hips into Edward. If he hadn't been even more forceful than I was, he would have been shoved right out the closet door and on his ass. And if it weren't for the fact that our mouths were otherwise occupied, Bella certainly would have heard our cries of release.
I'd never experienced an orgasm so fanfuckingtastic and all I wanted to do was just collapse into a puddle of post-climactic bliss and hold Edward until someone solved world hunger and figured out the reason behind America's fascination with Paris Hilton.
Even though he was in shadows, it wasn't hard to see the undeniable visage of contentment. I helped put it there.
Christ, I wanted to be the one to keep that look permanently plastered on his face. His half-lidded eyes; the lazy, satisfied smirk. So fucking beautiful.
Sadly, for me anyway, that would never be the case.
Edward let go of my leg before wrapping both of his arms around my waist as we clung to each other for several moments, trying to regain our senses.
Still struggling to breathe properly, I looked through the slats of the closet door and saw that Bella was no longer in the living room. I strained to listen for sounds of movement and detected the faint sound of water running. Edward cocked his head to the side, presumably trying to listen out like I was.
It turned out the running water was our salvation. Bella was taking a shower which now gave us the opportunity to make a break for it.
It also gave us the opportunity to laugh at her goofy ass as she burst into song.
"Rain drops keep falling on my head….and just like the man whose feet are too big for his bed…" Her voice cracked on the last note and it was all we could do to not break out in a fit of hysterics.
Edward reached behind him to slide open the door and we tumbled out of the closet, practically falling to the floor. Tripping and stumbling, we raced for the front door and let ourselves out before breaking out in a sprint down the sidewalk back to our apartment.
We didn't stop running until we made it up the stairs to the door. Instead of immediately letting ourselves in, we both plopped down on the welcome mat. After our heart rates and breathing finally evened out, Edward threw his head back and laughed.
"Holy shit that was close. I was certain we were caught," he said, chuckling.
I snickered in response. Truthfully, I forgot up until now that we originally had a mission to confiscate Bella's vibrator. I still couldn't wrap my head around what happened in her coat closet.
"Jazz, you okay, man?" Edward asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I answered, dragging a hand down my face.
"Are we cool? You know, after the closet thing? I don't know what came over me….I didn't mean it…" he stammered.
I couldn't bear to hear him continue. I knew he didn't mean it. That didn't mean I wanted to hear him say it out loud.
"We're cool. Don't worry about it," I assured him, shaking my head.
"Thank God. Seriously, I didn't wanna fuck things up for us by making you think I was gay or something. I just got carried away."
"Dude, I said we're cool, okay? Let's just drop it." Please.
He nodded his head before leaning back against the door.
"I can't believe Bella was thinking of me. You gotta help me get her back, man. I'm not about to let that shit slide," Edward said, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
With a sigh, I reluctantly agreed. "Sure, man. Whatever you say." I was still coming down from my high over the insanely wonderful physical contact I shared with Edward, so the last thing I wanted to think about was helping him get back with Bella. The funny thing about that is that not even an hour ago, I was helping him get back at her.
"You see? Jasper? That's why I fucking love you," he said before draping an arm over my shoulder.
I chuckled mirthlessly. "Do me a favor, Edward. Love me less."

---

A/N Video for the Touch, Peel, and Stand by Days of the New.

Teacher's Pet

Jasper Whitlock decides he's going to do whatever he can to get Professor Cullen's attention.

A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, its characters, and everything else. I merely own the laptop on which I wrote this. Thanks to Dark Absynthe, Touchstone66, Beate73, gypsysue for betaing. (yes, my work needs that much help! lol)

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I'm early.
Class isn't due to start for another fifteen minutes and I'm not about to be the first one in the lecture hall and risk drawing too much attention to myself. There's only one person's attention I welcome.
Professor Cullen.
Any other day of the week, I blend into the rest of the campus population; happily being a fucking sheep with everybody else. For guys, the strict dress code includes neatly pressed pants, a button-down shirt or polo, neatly combed hair, yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah. In my case, since my hair falls just below my ears, it has to be pulled back. On top of that horseshit, there is a zero tolerance policy on visible tattoos, and since I have full tribal sleeves on both arms, polos are out for me. If that isn't enough, the only acceptable body piercings are earrings on female students and faculty. Since yours truly has nipple rings, I'm quite grateful that they're easily concealed.
So, why is today different from any other day?
For one thing, my hair's down. It's unruly as fuck, and I've decided to just let my curls go wherever the hell they want. Which, for now, is down in my eyes. I remember my mother saying at one point that my hair was the color of wheat. I guess that just sounds more appealing than dishwater blond. Regardless, I deliberately did not pull a comb through it this evening, preferring that freshly fucked look.
Underneath my black and gray leather jacket, I'm not wearing a long sleeved button-down shirt, but instead, a thin white wife-beater. And since it's as hot as the seventh ring of Hell in that lecture hall in the evening, I'm not keeping the jacket on once I get settled. Of course, once I shed the jacket, my ink will be on full display; not to mention the fact that my piercings will no longer be a secret since it's quite easy to make out the shape of my nipple rings through the flimsy material.
I could easily be tossed off campus and face a truckload of disciplinary shit for my appearance, so what in sweet Christ's name am I doing here in "rare form"? Because it's a surefire way to end up in Professor Cullen's office, which is the only place I want to be this evening.
Leaning against my bike, I have my backpack slung over one shoulder and helmet under my arm. Glancing at my watch, I decide that I've waited long enough. Time to head to class and see how badly I can piss off the professor.
This is gonna be too much fun.
I make an effort to slip in relatively unnoticed and take a seat in the back row. The chain connected to my wallet clangs noisily however, making that slightly impossible. Yes, I have a chain on my wallet. Sue me. I like that shit.
The clomp of my boots and the clang of my wallet chain earn me a few backward glances from the students that are already seated. Backward glances turn into double takes and raised eyebrows, and an ogle from Rosalie Hale three rows up. A busty, long-legged blonde, she's basically every frat guy's walking wet dream. Of course, my sights are focused elsewhere.
Sweetheart, you are so barking up the wrong tree.
Does that stop me from giving her a small smirk and a wink? Fuck no, but it does have its desired effect; she's now facing the front of the class.
Before settling into my seat, I unzip my jacket and pull it off, unsuccessfully trying to keep the various zippers from rattling. After slipping off the jacket, I notice that Rosalie is now staring at me slack-jawed. Reaching into the breast pocket of my jacket, I pull out my glasses, slipping them on and I raise an eyebrow at her. I'm unable to keep from smirking as the elbow she had been using to lean on her desk slips off the edge and she nearly cracks her chin on the plastic surface.
Sitting back in my seat, I unzip my backpack to pull out my iPod and slip the ear buds in place. Of course, it should go without saying that the use of MP3 players or other similar devices are prohibited during class, but I'm breaking all the rules already, so what the fuck do I care? I'm avoiding actually turning it on for a few more minutes since I don't wanna get distracted and miss the professor making his entrance.
Before the thought is even complete in my head, Professor Cullen appears through the back door and saunters over to his desk, arms filled with various papers and books.
Dude seriously needs a briefcase or something.
He glances around the class and offers a polite smile, a smile that immediately turns to a look of alarm as soon as his eyes light on me.
Here goes nothing...
Deciding to whip out the big guns right away, I flash my biggest dimple-framed grin and pull down my glasses before giving him a wink.
Three things happen in that moment: Professor Cullen drops his shit. All of it. Everywhere. Prior to the shit drop, his face flushes bright red and his jaw hits the desk.
Make that four things that happen, because the entire class is now staring at me.
I lean back in my seat with a huff and roll of my eyes. This isn't what I wanted; to cause a scene. My goal was simply to rattle the professor a bit and hopefully get hauled off to his office for some disciplinary action.
Is that too much to ask?
Apparently so, because Professor Cullen is beyond pissed. Not to mention that the rest of the class is a bit peeved at the little outburst, and probably more than peeved at the fact that I have the nerve to show up to class with such a blatant disregard for school policy and throw their mighty professor off his "A" game.
Professor Cullen shoots me another glare just before he drags his hand down his face. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he calls out, "Angela?"
A lovely young woman with ebony hair and glasses jerks her head at the professor's request. "Yes, Sir?"
My heart is hammering around in my ribcage and I'm wondering if I might have taken things a bit too far. Yes, I wanted to make a statement, yes, I wanted his attention. I didn't, however, want to embarrass him in front of the entire class, which I apparently seem to have done.
"Angela, I know you're supposed to have the week off of TA duties, but would you mind taking over this evening? It's clear I have some issues to address." His final words are directed at me and I feel my stomach somersault and my dick begin to stir.
"You," he says, pointing at me with an angry finger. "My office. Now."
My heart leaps, my stomach flutters, and my dick springs to glorious life in my jeans as I begin to gather up my belongings. I toss my iPod back in the backpack, pull on my jacket, sling the backpack over my shoulder and grab my helmet before strolling down to the front of the lecture hall. Each thud of my boots on the steps reverberates across the entire room in perfect fuck-all harmony with the zippers on my jacket and the chain on my wallet. It sounds like I'm dragging a fucking ball and chain, and from the looks I'm getting from the class, I probably should be.
Christ, it's fucking Anatomy. Were y'all really looking forward to this lecture tonight?
Professor Cullen holds the back door open for me and it's a struggle not to look at him as I breeze through the door and into the back hallway.
Before the door even shuts, he shouts loud enough for the entire class to hear, "Who the hell do you think you are, boy? Do you think the rules apply to everyone but you?"
Ignoring him, I continue to stroll down the hall, his office door in sight. I can hear him practically seething as he follows me to his office but he says nothing further, and neither do I. Finally reaching the door, I lean against the wall, trying not to give away any of my anxiety as he works his key in the doorknob. Eventually the door is opened and I shove off the wall before following Professor Cullen into his office.
"Have a seat, Whitlock," he snaps, indicating the chair in front of his desk.
I set my backpack and helmet beside his desk and all but flop into the chair he wants me to sit in.
After sitting down in the chair behind his desk, he drags his hand down his face again and looks at me pointedly. "You know we have a dress code for a reason, right? Your appearance in class this evening was more than a little distracting."
I scoff before responding with a smirk. "So are you saying that I distract you, Professor?"
Narrowing his eyes at me he says, "Now is not the time to be getting smart with me, boy. Normally, I'd just send you home to change into something more appropriate and dock you for participation in class. However, that little extra display is what earned you a trip to my office."
My smirk grows bigger, and I raise my eyebrow at him. "What little extra display is that? I'd like to make a note of it for the next time I wish to be sent to your office." In a not-so-subtle manner, my tongue slides out briefly to moisten my lips and I know that I have him exactly where I want him. His chilling green eyes darken considerably and his breath catches in his throat.
"Sexual harrassment carries a much stiffer penalty than just being sent home and docked a few points, Whitlock. One could be removed from the campus permanently." Professor Cullen's voice has grown considerably deeper. Any other student would find his tone menacing, but it's all I can do to not launch myself across his desk and into his lap.
Fuck, he's sexy.
"I'm sorry, Professor, but I have no idea what you're talking about," I say, my voice and expression laced with mock confusion.
"That's a crock and you know it. The wink? The lip licking...thing?" He's flustered now and has resorted to flailing his hands to show frustration.
"So, you brought me in here because I'm friendly and I fidget?" It's impossible to hold back a chuckle, and now he's really pissed.
Pushing back, he stands up and makes his way to the front of the desk with inhuman speed, making me gasp and jump back in my chair.
Pointing a finger right in my face, he says, "Listen to me, you little punk. I don't know exactly what you're trying to prove, but your utter disrespect for University policy, my class, and me is unacceptable. I have no problem, whatsoever, with tossing you out on your ass and making sure you never set foot back on this campus, or any other campus. Is that what you want?"
"Jesus, calm down!" He's normally very cool and calm. This side is not one that many people get to see and it has me trembling. "I'm sorry, alright?"
Reigning in his temper a bit, he leans back against his desk and folds his arms across his chest. "Not as sorry as you're going to be if you pull another stunt like this again."
"Hell, I said I was sorry! What more do you want from me? Want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?" Knowing full well that it wouldn't be my most brilliant moment, I chuckle at the irony of my question. He may have been pissed before but now he's infuriated.
Shoving himself off of the desk, he comes dangerously close to knocking me out of my chair. It would have actually happened had it not been for the fact that he has made two incredibly tight fists in my shirt, yanking me toward him.
We're now close enough where I can feel him exhaling heavily through his nose, heated breaths falling on the skin above the collar of my shirt.
For a few moments, he keeps his eyes locked with mine, but I know his resolve is beginning to weaken when I see them burn a slow trail down my body and drag back up to meet my gaze.
"You've got quite a mouth on you, boy, and you assume a hell of a lot. What makes you think I'm interested in anything you have to offer?" His voice is gritty, and it wouldn't take a brain surgeon to figure out that Professor Cullen is very much interested in what I could offer him right now. Unconsciously this time, my tongue darts out again to lick my lips.
Shifting my body weight slightly, I shrug out of my jacket, uncovering the expanse of ink on my arms. His office is considerably cooler than the lecture hall so if it wasn't easy to see my nipple rings through my wife-beater before, it's fucking impossible to miss them now, especially with the way he's gripping me.
Professor Cullen releases my shirt and his eyes darken even more as a deep, throaty groan falls from his lips and a wide grin possesses mine.
"What was that about assuming too much?" I ask, chuckling.
Leaning forward, he presses his lips to my ear, evoking a violent shiver from me. "I'm sure you are aware that faculty and students are forbidden to fraternize," he whispers. Instinctively, I lean into him and my breathing begins to accelerate.
"My lips are sealed, Professor. Just tell me where you want them."
His breath scorches the skin of my neck as he turns his face from my ear. Dropping his head to my shoulder, he places his open mouth in the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, causing the moan I had been struggling to hold back to break loose.
"You really want to cross this line with me, Whitlock?" he groans.
Fuck. Yes.
"I wanna leap the fuck over it and forget it was ever there in the first place, Professor."
Pushing himself off of me, he strides over to the office door, turning the lock, the victorious "click" shooting straight through to my cock. Coming back to stand in front of me, he leans his back against his desk and begins to unbutton his shirt; face flushed and wild-eyed. I stare unabashedly for several seconds before I slip off the chair and onto my knees at his feet.
Professor Cullen pulls his shirt free from his slacks and proceeds to peel it off, revealing a plain white cotton t-shirt that looks as though it's painted on his body. The shirt is stretched tight across his chest, showcasing chiseled pectoral muscles and very obviously hard, tightened nipples. The hem of the t-shirt falls right above his belt and there is the tiniest sliver of skin exposed. My hands are itching to exploit this exposure.
After pushing up the hem of his t-shirt, I nuzzle the heated, creamy white skin of his sculpted abs with my nose and delight in the clenching of his muscles at the contact. His navel is a delicious looking "outie" and I waste no time in paying it proper attention with my tongue as my hands caress the taut skin above his belt. I treat his navel like I would a nipple and flick it repeatedly with my tongue, all the while watching his lusty gaze as he struggles not to cry out. My hands hold his hips in place as his body quivers with the effort to maintain a small shred of composure.
As I work to unfasten his belt, Professor Cullen peels off his t-shirt and tosses it to the floor. With his belt undone, I pop the button above his zipper and swiftly open his fly to expose his straining cock tenting his boxers. Palming his erection, I revel in the exquisite heat pouring through the fabric and my breath escapes in a gush as my own erection grows impossibly harder. The professor's head rolls back, and his eyes squeeze shut as I continue to caress him through the thin barrier.
Frantically, I pull his boxers and slacks down to his knees as his head snaps back up to watch me. Panting heavily, he rakes his eyes over me. His cock is long and thick, standing proud and pulsing with need, the slit at the head slick with precum.
Hell, yes. This is exactly what I want.
"Your cock looks fucking delicious, Professor," I groan before leaning forward to capture the pearly liquid with my tongue.
"Fuck," he growls.
"Maybe later," I reply with a wink as I grasp the base of his rigid length in my fist and dip my head to take in his hot throbbing flesh. Humming in blissful satisfaction while I bob my head, I try to tell him, without words, that his cock tastes as delicious as it looks.
"Christ, Whitlock, that's amazing," he groans as his hips start to thrust in harmony with the bobbing of my head. I continue to hum around his cock and am rewarded with grunts, growls and various expletives. Before long, the grunts and growls turn into whimpers and restrained cries. The effect they have on my dick is excruciating.
Reaching down with my other hand, I begin to undo my belt; if I don't come soon, I'll surely combust. Before I can release the fly of my jeans, Professor Cullen halts his movements and grasps my head.
"Stop," he commands. Releasing my head, he grasps one of my arms, pulling me up. Standing almost nose to nose with me he struggles to free himself from his shoes, socks and pants, kicking them off into a haphazard pile next to his discarded shirt.
Gripping my arms, he spins me around to take his previous position in front of the desk.
"Now," he says, successfully unfastening my belt, "allow me."
He makes quick work of unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans while I pull my wife-beater over my head and drop it to the floor as I watch him work. Slipping my jeans and boxers over my hips, he finally, fucking finally, releases my cock, with his lips finding purchase on my right nipple. I cry out as he uses his teeth to gently tug on the stainless steel ring and I nearly explode in the hand that's grasping the shaft of my cock.
Pulling me away from the desk, he reaches around to grip my ass with his other hand, making me jump. He alternates between caressing and kneading my flesh with his powerful fingers and I'm now moaning uncontrollably. His hands are like fucking magic.
Ceasing his delicious torture on my nipple, he brings his lips up to my ear. "You have an absolutely fantastic ass, Whitlock. You don't know how badly I want to fuck it."
"Oh, God…" I groan as my back arches and my hips thrust into his hand.
"First things first though. Hop up on my desk," he orders. Complying, I watch Professor Cullen bend forward to pull off my boots and socks, followed by my jeans and boxers. The look in his eyes as he drinks me in is animalistic, and I'm positive that he fully intends to devour me.
Please don't keep me waiting.
And fuck it all if he doesn't just leave me there. He moves to the other side of the desk and I hear him open a drawer, retrieve something, then slam the drawer shut before making his way back to me. After standing between my spread legs, he sets a tube of lubricant and a condom on the desk next to me. My entire body shivers at the implication, but I decide to try and play it cool.
"You're quite the Boy Scout, aren't you?" I ask.
Raising an eyebrow at me, he asks, "Excuse me?"
I nod towards the condom and lube on the desk before replying, "Always prepared?"
Giving me a truly devious grin, he answers, "Always," just before leaning in to suck my left nipple into his mouth.
"Fuck, that feels good," I gasp. He begins to suck harder, once again wrapping his fist around my cock, only this time he begins to swiftly pump me. My arms are trembling, and I feel my elbows start to give.
Professor Cullen pulls his wicked mouth from my nipple to whisper, "Lie down on your back and bend your knees."
I do as he asks, sliding up to put my feet flat on the desk.
Increasing the pace of his strokes, he grunts, "I love how you're so hard for me."
"Ung…always hard for you, Professor."
It's the God's honest truth.
It's all I can do to keep from screaming as he finally wraps his lips around my cock and instinctively, my hips lift off the desk in response to the blinding sensation. He takes a deep pull of my dick with his mouth before releasing me. With a sexy grin and a quirk of an eyebrow he says, "Go ahead and fuck my face, boy. You know you want to."
Yes, I most certainly do want to.
I spread my legs a bit more as he once again takes me in his mouth. Using my feet for leverage I lift my hips off the desk again, this time with purpose. Like a fucking pro, Professor Cullen sucks me deep into his throat, taking in my entire length. I'm beyond speaking English as I feel his lips meet the skin surrounding the base of my cock over and over while I continue to thrust into his mouth. The suction is increased as he hollows his cheeks, creating a vacuum around me. When he begins to hum against me and his plush lips slurp my skin with each pull, I begin to lose it.
"Shit, Professor. I'm gonna come."
I'm so oblivious to what's going on around me that I never noticed he opened the bottle of lubricant. It's only obvious now that he did because he's pressing a lubricated finger inside of me and I nearly choke on my scream. Before I can even adjust to the exquisite sensation he slips in a second finger, and begins to thrust them into me. My scream rings free just before his other hand shoots up to clamp over my mouth.
My hips have stilled as his hand becomes a blur, pumping his fingers into me. When I feel his throat constrict around me, swallowing around my cock, I know I'm done for. Despite the fact that he's covering my mouth with his hand, my scream pierces the air as I fill his mouth.
Professor Cullen swallows my orgasm while his fingers continue to work me, and my climax is so strong, that my entire body begins to quake.
It feels so god damn amazing, and he hasn't even fucked me yet.
Christ, I can't wait.
Once I start to come down from my orgasmic high, he pulls his mouth off my dick and removes his fingers from me simultaneously. I sigh from the loss of contact but my heart rate begins to increase again as I hear him tear open the condom wrapper.
"Tell me what you want from me now, Whitlock. I want to hear you say it," he commands.
I sit up so I can look him in the eye. "I want you to bend me over your desk and fuck me. Hard. Please, Professor," I beg.
Professor Cullen extends a hand to help me off his desk and pulls me flush against his body. His erection grinds into my hip and my head falls back with a moan escaping my mouth. Whipping me around, he rubs his hard cock against my ass just before practically shoving my upper body down onto the desk. I start to pant as I hear him sheathe himself with the condom and pop open the tube of lubricant to coat his erection.
I groan low and deep as the head of his cock presses against my entrance and, without warning, the sound of a forceful smack resounds from his hand making contact with my ass. My breath catches in my throat from the shock, and unconsciously, my hips press back into him in invitation. Gently, he caresses the tender skin he just struck and purrs, "Such a sweet ass."
Burying my face in my arms, I groan, "Oh God, please…"
"Please what, Whitlock?" He punctuates my name with another smack on the other cheek and I scream into my folded arms.
Trying unsuccessfully to catch my breath, I pant, "Please, Professor. Fuck me."
Chuckling, he responds, "Well, since you asked so nicely." Before the last word is out of his mouth, he pushes the head of his cock inside, and then grabs my hips pulling me sharply against him, effectively shoving his entire length inside me.
"Uhhh…fuck!" I yell. Fucking Christ, that hurt!
"What's the matter? Did that hurt?" he asks, condescendingly.
"Yes," I whimper.
Immediately, his tone softens as he leans across my back, bringing his head to my shoulder. "I…Jesus, I'm sorry…I just…shit, do you want me to stop?" His voice is filled with genuine concern and I can't help but smile.
"No need to apologize, Professor. I suppose I had that coming to me," I whisper, still smiling.
With a chuckle, he responds, "You're right. I'll give you a minute. Just let me know when you're ready to continue, okay?"
With a sigh, I nod against my arms. My sigh quickly turns into a satisfied hum as his hands caress my back and sides, leaving goose bumps in their wake from the massage they're giving my muscles.
Spreading my legs apart a little further, I press my hips back into him, eliciting a muttered, "Fuck," from his lips.
"I'm ready when you are, Professor," I announce, pressing my hips even harder against him.
Without a word from him, he withdraws slowly until only the head remains inside me. Just as slowly, he rocks his hips and slides back in. I'm sure that he can tell from my moan that I'm over the discomfort and aroused all over again. Of course, all he would have to do to assure himself of the latter would be to wrap his hand around my cock and feel that it was already hard.
Instead, his hands are otherwise busy gripping my hips as he withdraws and slides back in, a bit swifter this time.
"Oh, yes…more…" I murmur.
Encouraged by my request, he falls into a rhythm, sliding in and out; advance and retreat, and my legs are fucking melting.
"Uhhh…so good. More…please, more…" I sigh.
Sinking his fingers deeper into my skin, he begins to pick up the pace and force of his thrusts. I start rocking back to meet his hips as his thrusts grow harder, more insistent.
Panting, I plead, "Yes…more…harder…" At my request, he begins to slam into me, hard and deep, grazing my sweet spot while I try to muffle my cries with my arms.
"Is this what you want, boy? Does it feel good?" he grunts.
"Fuck, yes," I whimper.
The force of his thrusts cause my body to jerk against the surface of the desk and every motion pulls on my nipple rings. Soon the combination of his amazing cock in my ass and the pulling on my nipples is becoming too much for me.
"God damn it, Professor, I'm gonna come again," I cry.
"Not yet, Whitlock. Not before me; I want you to come with me."
Moaning pitifully against the desk, I just know I'm not going to be able to hold out. My mind begins to race trying to come up with something that will send him over the edge and at the same time grant me relief. Turning my head to the side, I see his gold name plate on the desk and a brilliant thought creeps into my head. Few things spur me on quicker than hearing my name cried out in bed.
Struggling to maintain my own control, I grit my teeth and growl, "Please…Carlisle!"
"Ahhh… FUCK!" he screams as he slams into me one last time and reaches around to grab my erection just before I fall apart. My entire body quakes as I spill into his fist and cling to the desk for support.
"Fucking… incredible," he gasps as he falls across my back and kisses me between the shoulder blades. The gesture is so intimate it almost causes me to melt right into the desk. Instead, I smile and hum contentedly as I come down from my second high of the evening.
"Thank you," I murmur.
He kisses me again before standing upright and withdrawing from me completely. "Don't move."
I don't think I could even if I wanted to.
I watch him stride across the room and dispose of the condom before taking a few paper towels from the dispenser hanging on the wall to clean his hands. After discarding them, he pulls down a couple more and wets them from the hot water tap on the water cooler before coming back to my side. Closing my eyes, I relax completely as he cleans up the mess from our activities. The paper towels are rough but they're made gentle by his graceful hands cleansing my skin.
He kisses the small of my back before returning to the wastebasket to dispose of the soiled paper towels. I finally find the strength to stand up and turn to face him. His smile lights up his entire face and where he was incredibly sexy before, now he's downright beautiful.
Oh, how I love to see him happy...
His smile is contagious and I'm pretty sure my grin is stupid goofy, but I don't care. Wanting him in my arms I crook my finger at him, motioning for him to come closer. He doesn't hesitate and seconds later he's right where I want him.
Since I walked into the lecture hall this evening, I ached to have his lips on mine and I won't be denied any longer. Holding him bone-crushingly close, I claim his mouth with my own. Our tongues meet instantly as his hands find their way into my hair pulling me closer.
Leaning away several moments later, I whisper, "I can't tell you how badly I wanted to do that from the moment you walked into the lecture hall, baby. I could kiss you for fucking hours."
Chuckling against my lips he whispers back, "You're preaching to the choir, Jasper. It was an insane struggle not to kiss you as soon as that door closed. But how appropriate would that have been for the teacher to kiss the misbehaving student on the mouth?"
I nibble a little bit on his neck before I answer. "Appropriate enough if I wanted it. This was my fantasy after all. No matter, though. It was phenomenal, and you only broke character once."
He nuzzles into my neck and wraps his arms even more tightly around me. "Did you expect me to ignore the fact that I hurt you? That fucking killed me, baby."
I clasp his face in my hands before briefly kissing his lips. "Don't you dare feel bad for that. You gave me exactly what I asked for, and I wouldn't change a thing."
Groaning, he pulls away from me. "I do have to get dressed and head back to the lecture. Angela's brutal. If I don't make it back soon, she'll start failing people for the hell of it."
I chuckle as I make my way over to his closet and pull out the spare suit he kept for me in preparation for this evening. I pull on my boxers and wife beater before putting on a black button-down shirt. Reaching for my matching black pants I can't help but smile at something.
"You know, Carlisle, I almost wanted to laugh at how you kept calling me, 'boy', being that you're two years my junior and all."
He laughs heartily at my comment. "I couldn't help it, babe, you know you could pass for one of my students. I mean, come on, you still get carded when we order wine with dinner and you're thirty-two years old. You have a youthful, angelic look about you."
Smirking at the irony of his statement, I reply, "Until you get me naked."
He nods in agreement, fastening the belt on his pants. "True. When you're naked, you're very much a man."
Walking over to my side, he wraps his hands around my waist, disrupting my efforts to fasten my own belt. "And you're positively sinful," he purrs before kissing my lips.
Before I can even think, he's pressing me against the closet door and his tongue is engaged in an epic battle with my own. I groan into his mouth, feeling that he's hard again.
"Mmm… baby," I moan, pulling myself from him with great difficulty, "as much as I would love to continue this, you have to get back to class, and I have to get off campus before folks start putting two and two together."
Whining softly against me, he says, "You're right. Besides, next week starts two weeks of vacation and we can tackle the rest of our list."
"Christ, I can't wait. We gotta do the cat burgler thing first. I'm very much interested in finding out what you'd do in exchange for me agreeing not to call the cops on your thieving ass."
He laughs again before pulling away and echoing my thoughts from earlier this evening, he says, "This is gonna be too much fun."
I decide to leave the suit jacket hanging in the closet since I already have my leather motorcycle jacket and I grab the comb and hair gel on the adjacent shelf. After an ardent struggle of pulling the comb through my curls, I finally tame them back to secure them with an elastic band before slicking them in place with the hair gel. Lastly I put on my socks and since I'm not about to ride my bike in a pair of wingtips, I put on my boots.
Turning around and holding out my arms at my sides, I silently ask for Carlisle's opinion on my appearance.
He smiles before pointing to his eyes and I reach up to touch my own and realize that I still have my glasses on.
Oops! That would raise a few eyebrows. Folks on campus aren't used to seeing me in glasses.
I slip them back in the breast pocket of my jacket before pulling it on. After picking up my helmet and stuffing my jeans into my backpack, I pull Carlisle in for another kiss. Lingering for just a bit, I finally pull back before kissing his cheek.
"I'll see you at home, baby. I love you."
"And I love you right back," he says with my favorite smile.
Leaving his office it's almost impossible to keep from skipping down the hall toward the exit, but I'm drawn up short by petite little Alice Brandon blocking my passage.
"Professor Whitlock, I'm so glad I caught you! I had a question about Friday's Music Theory exam."
I'm pretty sure she wasn't concerned about the exam since she maintains a flawless 4.0 GPA. What she's most likely concerned with is whether or not I had plans after the exam.
"Ms. Brandon, why do I feel that your question has nothing to do with the actual test?"
Blushing, she smiles sweetly, but doesn't say a word.
"I'm flattered, truly. However, University policy is very strict on relationships between professors and students in any facet that's less than professional. Rules are in place for a reason and they're supposed to be followed to the letter. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"
Her sweet face falls as she nods in response.
"And besides, if the looks he gives you in class are any indication, Edward Masen seems to be quite interested in you. I'm sure he wouldn't mind a study partner for the exam, if you catch my drift," I say with a smirk.
Her blush returns almost immediately as she takes in this information. Biting her lip, she says, "Thank you, Professor. You have a pleasant evening."
I watch her as she actually does skip down the hall before I let myself out of the building and into the parking lot.
Climbing onto my bike, I secure my helmet on my head before bringing my steel horse to roaring life. I smile at Alice's farewell comment to me to have a pleasant evening.
My evening will be very pleasant, because hanging next to my suit jacket in Carlisle's closet is a black track suit with a ski mask draped over the shoulder.
A very pleasant evening, indeed.

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A/N Thanks for reading! :)