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A/N:Strae beta'd and prompted, show her some love!
How to Turn a Straight Guy Gay
Part 3
The night seemed to start off as usual. Edward texted me, telling me he wanted to meet at Rogue's. I went and waited for him to show, a seat and cold bottle of beer ready for him. The minute he walked through the doors though, I knew something wasn't right.
As the weeks had come and gone, Edward had opened up to me more and more. He wasn't so quiet and generally the conversation between us was steady, unless he was in a bad mood. I could tell right away if he was in a bad mood, because he was always quiet.
When he showed up and took his seat without so much as a 'hey', I knew he was in a shitty mood. The thing with Edward was that you couldn't even ask him if he was okay without him blowing a damn gasket. If he was pissy, you just left him the fuck alone and he'd either open up about it or shove it aside.
I offered him exactly what he gave to me, nothing. I sat there, pretending to watch the band, while I waited for him to come the fuck out with it or get the fuck over it or whatever he needed to do. But after silently sitting for a whole goddamn two hours, I was starting to get impatient. He was downing alcohol with a vengeance, something was obviously wrong, and I didn't have all fucking night.
"Did something happen?" I asked cautiously.
"Nope," is all he said before ordering yet another drink.
"Then what the fuck is your problem?" I challenged with annoyance.
"You," he growled, slamming his empty beer bottle down on the table. "You are my fucking problem, Jasper."
"Me?" I asked, taken aback. It was admittedly the last thing I expected him to say. But he affirmed that I was indeed his problem. "Why?"
"A guy approached me today, demanding to know if I was your latest fuck." I immediately felt all of the color leaving my face as the realization hit me. "Imagine my surprise. Here I thought you wanted to be my friend, but then James Hunter introduced himself and he made it perfectly clear what your fucking plan is." He laughs humorlessly before continuing. "I am your fucking plan."
I didn't respond. I didn't know how to, other than I wanted to kill James fucking Hunter. All along I was worried about Emmett ruining my shot with Edward, but psycho James struck again, completely fucking me over. He so wasn't worth the time I put into him. Couldn't he be happy with one great fuck and a new way of life? Did he really have to keep fucking things up for me?
"Nothing to say for yourself, Jasper?" Edward asked. Again, I didn't respond, because I honestly didn't have anything to say for myself. I couldn't deny it and I wouldn't defend myself. "So it is true?"
"Which part?" I mumbled.
"Which part?" he asked back a bit hysterically. "Fuck, Jasper, you seduce straight men? That's what gets you off?"
"Yes," I admitted, and I wasn't going to be ashamed either.
"God," he groaned, shoving a hand into his hair. "I don't want to know anymore, don't fucking tell me. Just consider this the last fucking time you'll ever see me. I can't believe I... Can't trust anyone," he mumbled, aggressively grabbing the beer away from the serving waitress.
I expected him to tell me to leave, but he didn't, nor did he make a move to leave himself. I didn't really want to stay, because I could practically feel his anger and irritation rolling off of him, but despite the fact that I didn't want to give a shit, I did. He was scaring me with how heavily he was drinking, and I did fucking care about him. I cared too fucking much, too much to let him hurt himself if he tried to.
"So what, you seriously thought I was going to let you fuck me?" he asked unexpectedly.
"Thought you didn't want to know," I replied.
"I don't," he said, "but I just don't fucking understand how you could be so stupid. How I could be so stupid."
I rolled my eyes at him and took a slow drink to calm myself down, but it didn't work. "Just so you know, Edward, if James wouldn't have fucked it up, you would have let me, just like he did, and the others before him."
"Fuck you," he snapped. "You're a fucking disgrace."
"Aren't you projecting a little bit there, Edward? Isn't that what you think you are, the disgrace? Isn't that what daddy called you? Feeling a little disgraceful now yourself? Are you so fucking close-minded that you can't accept the fact that you have feelings for me, too?"
"I don't feel shit for you," he barked back.
I laughed bitterly back at him. "You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me."
The silence that hung there was heavy, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Edward didn't say anything else, and I could tell he was really starting to get sick, but he continued to nurse his bottle anyway.
I almost wanted to laugh at him when he finally jumped up to rush to the bathroom, but I was too busy feeling like shit about the whole damn situation. While he was vomiting, I was trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do now.
It wasn't supposed to end like that, both of us angry and unsatisfied. The friendship had come to be more than worth it and I couldn't regret it, even if it did end without reaching the goal I'd set. But fuck, I didn't want it to end, because I already knew I'd miss him. He somehow managed to be more than just a potential fuck. He was Peter all over again, without the revelation. Or what if Edward was a whole new revelation? Maybe it was a good thing I wouldn't have the chance to find out.
About fifteen minutes had passed before I went looking for Edward. I hadn't seen him leave, nor come out of the bathroom, which was frankly only giving me more shit to worry about. If he was seriously sick, then I would be the friend that he'd had before and make sure his drunk ass got home safe. If he was just avoiding me, then fuck him, he could take care of himself.
I found him before I made it near the men's room though. He was positioned in a dark corner with some skinny blonde chick. Even to me it looked like it wasn't going well, but of course I was still jealous. He seriously didn't look like he was being very friendly though.
I couldn't stop myself from taking a closer look. When I realized he had the poor girl's hands pinned to the wall, I intervened.
"Edward, you need to back off," I said calmly.
"Fuck off, ass pirate," he replied.
The girl's eyes were wide with fear and she started to struggle, but he barely seemed to notice. "You're drunk, you need to stop and fucking think for a second, dude," I tried, grabbing one of his wrists to make sure he didn't do anything stupider.
"Get your fucking hands off of me," he hissed at me. He released one of the girl's arms as he tried to shake me off.
"I'll let you go as soon as you let this girl go."
"Fuck off, I don't want you, chicks love me."
"Ow," the girl whined, opening her mouth for the first time. I could see his hold on her tightening and I shook my head at him.
Wordlessly, I grabbed his other wrist and yanked his hand off of her. "I'm sure they do, but this one doesn't want you forcing yourself on her, so back the fuck up."
The girl quickly darted out from beneath Edward's hold and made a run back to her table, where she started gesturing wildly to some guy, pointing at us.
"Oh, fuck," I groaned. "Your ass is fucked now."
Edward gave me a really dirty look for my poor wording, but then started hissing expletives when he noticed the big bastard making his way over with a murderous glare.
"Shit, shit, shit," he chanted. "Fuck," he practically whimpered, and I decided right then and there that my Edward was nothing but a brave little coward who totally wrote checks with his big mouth that his skinny ass couldn't cash. I wasn't taking the beating for his stupid, drunk ass, but I would do what I could to save him.
"Oh, God, what am I thinking," he whined, then he grabbed my hand and pulled me really close. "This doesn't mean shit, I just can't go to work tomorrow if I look like I got my ass kicked."
"What the—"
Before I could even say 'fuck' his mouth covered mine and I moaned.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
He's all tight-mouthed, barely kissing me, acting like it's absolutely the worst thing in the world, which meant it was all for show for the motherfucker who wanted to kick his ass back to last weekend, but I didn't care.
I slid my hands up into his hair and moaned his name against his lips, like, really loudly. I smirked when he twitched—I didn't even care if it was a good twitch or a bad twitch. I grabbed his hair between my fingers and pulled his head down slightly so I could get a better angle, and shoved my mouth harder against his. I pressed my hips forward and ground against him. I laughed as a deep growl rumbled in his chest.
To the outside world we probably just looked like some gay couple mouthfucking and humping each other against a wall, but I knew that Edward was going to fucking kill me for it later. It wasn't usually my style, but if we were done seeing each other, I was going to go out with a fucking bang. At least I'd know he would think of me, if only because I was the only man he ever kissed. It felt really fucking good for me, and if I could manipulate our current situation into my favor, you're damn right I was going to.
Edward started to pull away and I let him, though he really had no where to go, since he was all up against the wall, but I wasn't going to force him.
"They're faking!" I heard a high-pitched voice shriek.
"Fuck," Edward hissed again, then his hands were on my ass and he started groping the fuck out of me.
I shook my head and went with it, and did that naughtiest thing I could do in public without getting arrested. I reached between the two of us and started rubbing him through his jeans. I tried to hide a smirk as I realized that he was as big as I'd hoped, but I think Edward caught it.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he gasped, his voice shooting up an octave.
I could hear the big fuck approaching from somewhere behind us and I leaned into Edward's ear to whisper, "If you don't want to get your balls ripped off for touching this fucker's girlfriend, you better act a little bit better."
I then took my time kissing down the side of his neck, savoring the fact that this could possibly be my only chance. I darted my tongue out to taste him and inhaled the scent of his skin because I was frankly too fucking stupid and curious to realize it was only going to make me want him more. I stopped to suck at his pulse point lightly and felt him shift against me as he gave my ass a squeeze. I licked over to his Adam's apple and sucked, reaching just a bit lower to squeeze him in return. He was definitely getting hard, whether he wanted to or not.
His hands stayed awkwardly still on my ass while his head pushed back against the wall. "Fuck me," he groaned, then froze.
I chuckled and shook my head, mumbling, "Relax," into his neck. "Move your hands," I instructed.
"Where?" he whispered.
I laughed at him again. "I don't care, just move them."
He surprised me when he pushed them under the back of my shirt. His nails dug in lightly as he scratched up to my shoulder and back down again and my hips jerked forward on their own accord, meeting just my hand that was still rubbing his cock through his jeans.
"My girlfriend says you were grabbing her," the big fuck behind us said, sounding rather embarrassed.
"What?" I asked him, my lips still working over Edward's neck.
"My girl, she says you guys are faking, one of you grabbed her."
Edward felt pretty hard against my hand, so I changed the position of my hand, aiming to hit the top of his cock to hopefully get him to make a little noise for me. I rubbed along the underside of his cock through his jeans, right up to the head of his cock, and bit down lightly on his neck.
He moaned and his nails dug into my back. I looked up to his face to see his eyes closed and his jaw clenched.
"Fuck, would you stop for two seconds?" the dude behind us muttered uncomfortably.
I removed my mouth from Edward's neck and my hands from his cock and pivoted toward the fuck, who I was actually very fond of for getting Edward to drunkenly attack me.
God, that sounds pathetic.
"Listen, I don't know what your little girlfriend's problem is, but I'm assuming she probably threw herself at my boyfriend and he turned her down, now she's pissed off."
The guy looked downright humiliated, but after he glanced over his shoulder, presumably at said girlfriend, he didn't relent.
"She said one of you grabbed her." He tried to look everywhere but at us, as Edward's hands surprisingly stayed in my shirt even after I pivoted and he started to toy with my happy trail, which seriously started to make me a little incoherent with lust.
"Yeah, you already said that. Look, honestly sweetie, no offense or anything, but my boyfriend isn't going to go around grabbing random chicks. He knows I'm the best lay here, not to mention that I give better head than any girl you'll ever meet and I actually enjoy it."
The guy turned on his heel after that and didn't look back, even when his girlfriend started bitching. I really kind of felt bad about the fact that Edward grabbed her and normally, I would let the guy kick his ass for it, but I knew Edward, and he wasn't the type to hurt a woman. He was drunk and confused, and it was my fault.
"I'm gonna throw up," Edward muttered, withdrawing his hands from my shirt.
I rolled my eyes and turned around, assuming he was being theatrical about the predicament, but he looked really ill, and on the verge of up-chucking—not at all in a joking type of way. "Can you make it outside?" I asked him.
"Fuck," he groaned, then grabbed my hand and started jogging, pulling me with him.
He shoved the back doors open and barely made it around the corner before he was blowing chunks all over the fucking sidewalk.
"Jesus. You're fucking hot and all, but even if that big motherfucker comes back for an encore performance from us, I am not kissing you again after that," I said, mostly to distract myself from the god-awful sound of him puking on the cement. "He can kick your ass all he wants. Oh, fuck, that smells bad." I started to walk away as he started all over again.
The night was just completely fucked. I had no idea what the fuck was going to happen. Considering he was drunk, it could turn out a lot of ways, though I knew I couldn't just go back to him not knowing about me. I wouldn't be able to pretend he didn't know, if he did forget. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to push the night's events from my mind like they never happened, especially after I felt his cock and his mouth on mine and his nails digging into my back. I could still taste him on my tongue. I couldn't just forget about that.
After I realized that the sound of his retching had died off, I chanced a look back over my shoulder, to see that he was crumpled down against the side of the building. I walked back to him and held my hand out, to which he responded by shoving his keys into my open palm.
Wordlessly, I left to bring his car around and he clambered his way into the passenger side. Once inside, he turned the music off and the air on high, even though it wasn't really hot out. The air just made the smell of stale beer and vomit circulate around the car faster, but I didn't say anything as I drove out of the parking lot.
Halfway to his house I changed my mind and started driving to my own. I couldn't leave him at home alone in his condition. Just as we were passing the turn off to his house, he leaned forward and started moaning.
"Don't you fucking puke in the car," I warned.
"Pull over," he groaned, but it was already too fucking late.
I couldn't move the fucking car over fast enough with the other traffic in my way and he gave me no fucking warning at all. The bastard even managed to get some fucking puke on me.
I rolled down all the windows after that and Edward seemed to pass out against the seat.
Fuck my life.
– – –
I didn't bother trying to clean up his car, I just dragged his sorry ass inside, stripped him of his vomit covered clothing and cleaned him up as best as I could before throwing him into my bed.
I barely managed to get the clothing into the washer without gagging myself.
It was one of those moments when I was really fucking ecstatic that I was a gay man with no desire for a family at all, because I could never do that shit for a child.
By the time I was able to shower and get ready for bed, I was dead on my fucking feet. And I couldn't even sleep in my own fucking bed.
I had to sleep on the motherfucking sofa.
For a man who didn't put out.
Christ.
– – –
A succession of bangs roused me from a deep, well-earned sleep. I open my eyes to find a dark, very attractive-looking man looming over me.
"Don't even fucking start," I grumbled, tossing my arm over my eyes to block out the light.
"I have a fucking hickey. I'm mostly fucking naked. I can't find my clothes. I very vividly remember finding out some seriously disturbing shit about you yesterday. And I woke up in your bed, with the hangover of a lifetime. I don't remember a fucking thing that happened after I met you to talk at Rogue's last night."
His voice got increasingly louder as he went on and I wanted to tell him to just shut the fuck up, but I didn't have the energy.
"You stink," I realized, shoving him away.
He grabbed my arm and pulled, yanking me right off the fucking couch. I quickly started to lose what little patience I had.
"What the fuck did you give me?" he yelled.
I snapped. I just fucking snapped, I lost it.
When my eyes opened, he was standing over me and I grabbed his leg, knocking him to the ground. I quickly pinned him there and glared down at him.
"What the fuck did I give you? Are you fucking kidding me?" I hollered, as he struggled to get away from me.
"Get off of me, you fucking rapist faggot."
"Hey, you stupid fucker, look at me," I growled. When he didn't listen, I held him down tighter, but he still refused to meet my eyes. I was so fucking upset I didn't even consider the fact that we were rolling around in nothing but our underwear. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking know me! Just because one thing changed, it doesn't mean that I'm some terrible fucking monster. Yes, I am gay. Yes, I do want to fuck you, but I'm not going to fucking rape you, Jesus Christ. How can you even fucking think that of me?"
"Because you're a lying piece of shit. You put the fucking hickey on my neck, who the fuck knows what else you did to me last night. You're a sick fucking freak."
"Fuck you," I said, letting him go and standing up. "Your clothes are in the fucking dryer." I grabbed his keys and chuckled them at him, satisfied when he winced as they connected with his chest. "There are your fucking keys. You're welcome for washing your clothes, and you're welcome for saving you from getting your ass kicked, and you're fucking welcome for being a friend and making sure you didn't end up as road kill. Good luck getting your fucking puke out of your car's upholstery. I hope you have a nice goddamn life, you fucking prick."
I finished by slamming the door in his face after throwing his dried laundry at him while he stood on my patio in his underwear.
After a few minutes, he finally made it out to his car dressed. I watched as he opened the driver's side door. I'm sure the smell was atrocious because he immediately took a step back. Then he looked inside.
He raised his hands up and threw them down onto the hood of his car, hard. Three times he pounded onto the top of his car. Once it seemed he was satisfied with doing that, he grabbed his hair and leaned his head down to rest it against the car. At last, he jumped into the driver's seat and sped away, squealing out of my driveway like a man on the run.
– – –
It has been three weeks since I've seen Edward. Three weeks that I have been going absolutely crazy thinking about Edward. It's been three weeks without any contact at all. After three weeks of nothing, I think it's absolutely certain that we are over.
I sent him one text—one stupid, misguided text—asking him if we could talk. He didn't respond, so I decided to leave him alone.
I figure there is no chance at all of salvaging our friendship—and an even impossibly smaller chance of furthering our relationship.
What bothers me the most is that I want to. I still want him. I want him back. I just can't get him out of my head, and I can't fucking stand it. After what he fucking said to me, I should hate him and I know it, but it doesn't matter, because I miss him. I dream about kissing the tattoo that I drew on his shoulder, when I can get sleep that is. It's really fucking disturbing.
No one has ever been able to get to me the way Edward can. I just want to forget him, but at the same time, I never want to forget. I'm pretty sure that I'm going insane.
Just a couple days ago, I thought I could find someone else. I'd had to give up before, many times, and it never bothered me. But after the brutal attempt of trying to move on, I decided that I was just stuck this way forever.
I didn't go back to Rogue's, for obvious reasons. I tried a bar I'd never been to, one that I thought would be well-suited to me, but I was completely wrong. A fucking sports bar was not the place for me. The guys in there were fucking obnoxious and half retarded, and the waitresses were slutty and also half retarded.
I was never going back.
But not because of the shitty crowd. No, the entire time I was there, I fucking moped, like a girl—he really had me pegged. I wanted Edward and I couldn't stop thinking about him long enough to even notice anyone else. As soon as I would try, I would think about how perfect he was and how no one else would ever be able to live up to his standard.
It was a bunch of fucking bullshit, and I literally just gave up.
I said fuck it.
That is why for the past few days I haven't even left home. I just sit there in my bed, imagining him beside me, like a complete fucking lunatic. It's so fucking gay that I want to kick my own ass. But it doesn't stop me from doing it. I draw him endlessly, so I won't forget him, while at the same time I'm hoping that if I put my memories down on paper enough, they won't be stuck in my head anymore.
His fucking smile haunts me.
Which is why I decide to grab my cell and make a phone call.
I pause on Edward's name and with a deep breath, I press down one more time before hitting send.
"Hey baby," answers the deep voice I don't really want to hear, but I settle for it anyway.
"Will you come over?" I ask.
I hear something fall and try not to laugh when Emmett asks me, "Can you fucking repeat that for me? I think I just fucking heard you ask me to come over."
It's the exact reason I called him. He's an idiot and probably the only person who is going to understand what I'm dealing with right now, and he somehow manages to make me laugh. "You heard me, get your dumb ass over here now."
I hang up and bite my lip to keep it from trembling. I feel guilty for some reason and I don't want to, I don't even know why I feel guilty or why I should. God, I fucking hate this.
Emmett shows up fairly quickly and I go out onto the porch to meet him. I laugh when I see he's just showered and that he's wearing a button down and some just-tight-enough jeans. Then I bite my lip because it starts trembling again and I can feel stupid, unwanted fucking tears in my eyes.
"Ah, shit," Emmett groans. "I shouldn't have wore the good shirt if you're just going to cry all over it. I'll take a cum stain over tears any day."
"Shut up," I whine.
"You fucking fell for him, didn't you?" Emmett asks quietly.
I know I'm nodding before I even consciously tell myself to and my stupid bottom lip juts out into a pout while a hot tear burns down my cheek. I scrub it away anxiously and try to think of something to say to change the subject, but I can't.
"I'm sorry," Emmett says.
I clench my fists in a poor attempt to control my stupid feelings, but it unsurprisingly doesn't work. My mouth still works though. "I want the pictures," I demand. "I want them, I don't care what you want in return, I'll give you anything. Just give me the pictures and delete them off of your phone."
"Fuck, Jasper," he sighs. And I wheeze in a breath, because I think he's going to tell me 'no'. I wouldn't blame him, if the pictures were mine, I wouldn't give them up for anything, but then again, they would mean a whole lot more to mean than just 'spank bank material'. "Do you love him?" Emmett asks me.
"N-no," I stutter quickly, but I'm really not so sure. I don't think I want to love him, but I'm afraid that I do, which is really fucked up.
"Come here," Emmett whispers and puts his big, oafish arms around my shoulders.
He's hugging me and I don't really care that he is, it's kind of nice. But I don't hug him back, I just stand there with my face shoved against his wide chest, trying not to cry like a complete fuck over someone who obviously doesn't give a shit about me.
"How do you do it?" I ask, and it almost sounds like I'm sobbing, but I'm not. I'm not fucking crying over Edward.
"Do what?" he replies, as he rubs my back soothingly.
"How can you handle being obsessed with me?"
I want to die when he laughs at me. He doesn't let me go when I start to struggle, and he apologizes through his laughter, but it loses its affect, since he's still fucking laughing. God, I fucking hate him.
"I'm sorry," he continues to wheeze out. "I'm really sorry, Jasper. I don't mean to shatter your poor fragile little ego right now, but I'm not obsessed with you."
"Yes, you are," I insist.
He just laughs some more and I sob extra hard just to make him feel bad. "Shit, I'm sorry," he says desperately and starts to pet at my hair. "I am, you're right, I'm so obsessed. I even want to do you right now."
I know he's joking so I just roll my eyes, but that reminds me of Edward, which actually does make me sob, since I picked up the annoying habit from him.
"We should sit down," he continues. "Let me explain to you how I feel, okay?"
"Fine," I mutter, pulling away from him and sitting down on the hard concrete.
He sits down beside me and grabs my hand to toy with it while he talks. "Jasper, I do have feelings for you, and I have for a long time, but if I were obsessed with you, I wouldn't be getting any tail. Do you seriously think I've went all these years without having a boyfriend?"
I glance up at him and find him staring seriously down at me. "No," I admit. "I know you're not 'obsessed' but you know what I mean. Doesn't it bother you that I don't feel the same way for you as you do for me?"
"No," he answers honestly, "but I thought of all people that you would understand that. This is what you do, Jasper. You chase after the ones who don't feel the same way, and you love it. But I think this time you got in too deep. This time you care whether he wants you back or not. For me, you were the fuck first, like all those other guys were to you, but you became my friend, so I didn't really care that you weren't interested. But you have the feelings for Edward now, and you aren't used to that. This is what a real relationship is like, Jasper."
He sighs when I don't respond. "You're my challenge, my unattainable, you know. It's a game to me. You remember last year when that fucking chick got all up in my face and told me that I couldn't really be gay if I didn't know what pussy was like?" I nod, because I do remember that. "Well, I never told you this, but I fucked her because she told me I wouldn't. When someone challenges me, I don't fucking back down, Jazz. So maybe that does make me obsessed with you, but you're also one of the best friends I've ever had, I'm not going to give that up just because you won't let me in your pants. I'm also not going to give up on sleeping with you either."
It's ridiculous that is takes Emmett to put things into proportion for me. He really has a bigger brain than I give him credit for.
I have feelings for Edward, big feelings. Big feelings that actually take place inside of my big head rather than the little head that I'm used to thinking with. Okay. But now how the hell do I get over said feelings since there is no way in hell Edward is ever going to give me a chance again?
"How do I forget about him?" I ask Emmett.
He simply gives me a condescending smile. "Jasper, haven't you ever been in love before?"
Peter is about the only person that comes to mind, but I already know that wasn't love. I was in lust with Peter, and in love with the idea of him, but I wasn't in love with him. The only other person I can think of is Alec, my first boyfriend, who was much older and much more experienced that me. I don't think that I loved him though either. I never felt for anyone the way I feel for Edward.
It isn't just the physical aspect, though I am in love with his body and the thought of consuming him, but there is a whole nother level to it. I'm in love with the fact that he is imperfectly perfect, I love his sometimes shitty attitude and the way he pushes my buttons. I love the fucking smirk he gets on his face when he's feeling cocky and the way he practically tears his hair out when he's anxious. I fucking love everything about him. I know that I love him, I just don't want to admit it. I know that he is possibly my first real love, and I'm scared to death of that fact.
"I don't know," I tell Emmett, and it's not really a lie. I admittedly don't know if I really know what love is. I don't know how to be in love with someone.
"Well, shit," he mumbles, dropping my hand into his lap. "Then I guess I'm going to have the break the bad news to you, sweetie. You're not going to forget about him, and I can tell by the way you look right now that you don't really want to."
I sigh and close my eyes. I give Emmett's leg a squeeze because he's kind of been helpful and he'll probably like it, then I lean back against my house and try to decide what I'm going to do.
I know what I need to do right now, even if I don't have a clue what I'm going to about this 'feelings' shit. "Emmett, tell me what the fuck you want so I can have my pictures."
"Son of a bitch," he whispers to himself. "Come on, Jasper, can't we just forget about the pictures. Besides, those aren't going to help you forget about him at all."
I cock an eyebrow in his direction and give him the fiercest look I can with one eye. "I want my pictures," I insist.
He groans and whines and makes a fuss, but I don't relent. I need those pictures. Need them. I need something intimate of Edward and I know that those pictures are exactly it. Edward got my drawing, the tattoo on his shoulder, and I would get his masturbation pictures.
"Just make your fucking demand, Emmett, or I'm going to make sure one of the Cullens finds out you have nudey pics of Edward and get your ass sued."
"Fuck, fine. I know you knew all along that I planned on using the fuckers against you to get what I wanted. This isn't the situation I expected, Jazzy. I thought you'd get frustrated with Edward, I know how stubborn he is, and come to me for them. But this, shit, Jazz, this is going to eat at my conscience. I wanted to get a blowjob out of the pictures at least, a fuck at best, but now I can't ask for either without feeling guilty. God," he draws out the word into a long groan.
"Just ask for anything, Emmett, I'll give it to you and this is your one chance, so fucking go for it," I contend.
"Fine, come here."
He holds out his arms and I do as he asks, getting up on my knees and moving closer to him. I expect him to unzip right here or something and ask for head, but he surprises me by pulling me into his lap so I'm straddling his hips. He looks right into my eyes as he pulls me in for a kiss and I grip at his shirt to ground myself.
I know I have to at least pretend to like it.
The kiss shockingly isn't bad, but he's not who I want, so I don't really get into it. His lips are soft and full and he's a great kisser, I know that much at least. His hands are skilled and steady as the roam my body and his experience is obvious, which kills the whole mood for me—if kissing Emmett isn't enough of a mood-killer as it is.
He pulls back after a unexpectedly short time and keeps his lips pursed and his eyes closed. "Are you getting anything out of this?" He opens his eyes and says, "Honestly."
I feel bad that I have to say, "No, Emmett, not really."
He hums and raises his knees, which makes my ass slide right down onto his groin and I'm dumbfounded by the fact that he's not sporting a raging hard-on. He pulls me back in for more and I open my mouth to him as he presses his tongue against my lips.
I barely even feel a twitch from his usually very excitable cock as he grips my hips and rocks me forward and back on him.
The sound of flip-flops on hardwood pulls my attention from Emmett's kiss and I look up to find a pair of legs on my front steps.
I push away from Emmett as soon as I realize that I would recognize those hideous fucking flip-flops anywhere.
Edward is standing at my front door, hand half-poised to knock, while I'm struggling to free myself from the tangle of limbs that Emmett and I are just a few yards away from him under the shade of a tree.
I barely have a chance to register the look of hurt on his face before he calmly replaces it with a blank expression.
"Thought you'd want these back," he says flatly, then drops a packet of my graphite pencils down onto the patio. He quickly turns to leave and I jump up to chase after him.
"Edward, please, let me explain, it's not what it looks like."
He grabs the shades off of the top of his head and slams them down over his eyes before he turns back to look at me. "You can stop with your fucking lies, Jasper, it's exactly what it looks like."
Just like the time before, he speeds away from me in his fucking car.
I fucking knew it was going to be Emmett who would ruin this for me.
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