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A/N: Strae beta'd and prompted, show her some love!
How to Turn a Straight Guy Gay
Part 11
After he finishes Clocks, I applaud. His face gets red and he glares at me.
"Knock it the fuck off," he grumbles.
I glare back. "Come make me."
"I'll slap your sunburn if you don't stop clapping," he warns.
I stop with a huff. "What the fuck? I can't even applaud for my brilliant boyfriend? I fucking knew you had talented fingers. Is there anything you can't do?"
He toys with the keys, playing a melody I don't recognize and I wonder if it's original. "I can't suck cock very well," he mutters.
I huff again. "You haven't even tried. I'm willing to bet you're fucking amazing at that too. You should play another and sing for me," I encourage.
"I'm not singing," he says finally.
"Why? You sang me Halestorm, singing Coldplay would hardly kill you."
He blushes, for whatever reason, and mutters something. I tell him to speak up. "I said I can't believe I fucking sang in front of you at all."
"Why? You have a good voice."
"I'm not good at performing in front of people," he goes on.
"Fine," I say. I grab a blanket and toss it over the top of me.
He starts chuckling and he continues to play the unrecognized tune. I hear him sigh and clear his throat and my entire body tingles with anticipation.
The song transforms into The Scientist and Edward softly starts to sing. My throat constricts immediately and I'm so glad that I'm underneath the blanket so he can't see my reaction. I'm fucking emotional today, apparently.
I love his voice and I love his music, I love him. I have never been a commitment type of guy, but I could already imagine myself with Edward years from now. I couldn't even consider the possibility of not being with him without getting sick to my stomach. If there were such thing as soul mates, he is mine. It sounds cheesy, even to me, but I am sure that I want to be with him forever.
The song ends and I'm gulping for breath under the blanket trying to calm myself down. I hear the bench scrape lightly against the floor and I quickly rub my face with the blanket, hoping he won't be able to tell that I've let my inner woman come out, again.
He doesn't pull the blanket off of me. I can feel him close and I'm breathing heavy, waiting for him to do whatever it is that he's planning. His hands scare the shit out of me when they both are suddenly under the blanket and I shriek as he starts to tickle my ribs and torso.
"Ouch! Ouch! Sunburned... ass!" I cry as I squirm, trying to get away from his tickling.
I finally am able to catch his wrists and I pull, making him fall on top of me. I grunt as his weight hits me and he quickly rolls off. I go with him, swinging my leg over his hips to straddle him. I keep his wrists in my hands and pin them down above his head, holding him there. He's so fucking compliant, and I fucking love it. I think he likes it when I pin him down, I can feel his cock hardening.
His eyes are serious as he scans my face and I think he knows that he made me cry—in the good way—but he doesn't say anything, and he lets me pretend like it didn't happen. I lean down to kiss him and he meets me with an eager mouth. The kiss is pure feeling; love and lust, passion and adoration.
An idea forms and I just can't kick it, I want my fucking dessert. I pull away from his lips and whisper, "Don't move."
As always, he obeys. So fucking hot. I hope someday we can tag team on this submissive-dominant thing. I want to submit to him once.
I try to move quickly, but the sunburn kind of inhibits my movement. I head for the fridge and yank open the freezer, digging around until I find some plain vanilla ice cream. I grab a spoon and go back up the stairs.
Edward is exactly where I left him, arms above his head and everything. He eyes me curiously, but I'm hiding what I've brought behind my back so he can't see it. I climb back on top of him and lean down to start kissing him again. He quickly forgets all about the fact that I'm hiding something and I change my position, bringing the ice cream in front of me. The top pops off soundlessly and I set it aside and dig in, getting a huge glob. I set the ice cream on the little table off to the side and just barely pull my lips away from Edward's.
"Time for dessert," I whisper, not giving him time to react before I drop the chunk of ice cream on his chest.
"Fuck! Cold!" he gasps, his muscles tensing in the most pleasing fucking way.
"Mm," I moan, leaning down to lick him, and the ice cream.
"Could have fucking warned me," he grumbles.
"Where is the fun in that, baby?" I ask, lapping at him with my tongue, making a mess.
"Fuck. Fuck!" he gasps.
My spoon dripped more ice cream, right on his nipple. I greedily move there, swirling my tongue around it to clean away the sticky ice cream—and just to taste him. He moans and I chuckle, going back down further to lick away the melted residue. I get up on all fours, following the trail the ice cream has left as it slid down onto his stomach. He's sucking in and the ice cream is just sitting there, pooling, in a shallow dip.
As I lap at it, I grasp his pants in my hands, pushing them down as far as I can while he refuses to lift up for me. "Lift," I command.
"No, I don't want ice cream on my dick."
I laugh. "If you don't lift nothing is going to be on your dick, is that what you want?"
He whimpers. "Don't put ice cream on it."
I hadn't planned on it, but I don't bother telling him that as he lifts his hips and I shove his pants down as far as I can reach. He kicks them off the rest of the way.
I scoop up another dollop of ice cream and drop this one right into his bellybutton. He hisses and his hips buck slightly, and it's fucking ridiculously hot. His whole body clenches in reaction to the temperature difference of his body and the frozen treat; again, just fucking hot. I eat the ice cream out of his bellybutton and start lick along his 'V'. I swear, even without the fucking ice cream he's the tastiest thing ever.
"No cold on the cock," he begs.
I lick up his cock when he least expects it and he hisses and bucks. "Is that cold?" I ask.
"No, no, that's okay," he moans.
I roll my eyes and tell him, "Over."
"What?"
"Oh-ver," I draw out.
He looks at me questioningly and I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to obey. He finally does and the sight is just fucking amazing. His ass cheeks are clenched tighter than the security at fucking Supermax prison.
My cock is super excited over his ass, and lets his joy be known by picking now as the opportune moment to drip. Right on his ass.
It's kind of hilarious how he flinches.
"Was that...?" he trails off questioningly.
"Yeah," I chuckle. "Sorry. It knows what it wants."
Unthinkingly, I go to wipe the precum away, and my thumb dips into the top of his crack a little bit. Somehow he manages to clench his ass tighter. Talk about buns of steel, Christ.
"Fucking relax," I mutter. "I'm not going to shove anything up your ass just because it's there, fuck."
His head drops and he sighs. "I know, I'm sorry, I just..."
"What?" I ask after he trails off.
"I just didn't know what you wanted to do back there."
"It's fine, just turn back over."
"No," he says. Then he unclenches a little. "You have to push me," he persuades.
"No, I don't. Come on, just turn back over and I'll give you a blowjob."
Somehow, even that doesn't fucking work. And my cock drips again, which turns his ass back into the ADMAX—or Alcatraz pre-1963.
"I have no reason to be so fucking nervous about you being back there, so would you just fucking do whatever you were going to do and let me get the fuck over this?"
"How do you know what I plan on doing doesn't involve your ass?" I ask. I don't like that he's nervous and I don't want to fucking push him when he obviously isn't ready for me to be anywhere near his ass.
"I don't, and I don't fucking care. I wish you would just do something. I fucking know it's suppose to feel good, but I just... I'm fucking scared."
"That's why I don't want to fucking go there, yet. You have to realize there is nothing to be afraid of. I'm not going to hurt you, you have to trust me."
"I fucking do trust you, I know you love me and that you're not going to hurt me, but fuck, Jasper, nothing has ever touched me there in a good way."
I pause, suddenly afraid myself for not wondering about this sooner. "Has something touched you there in a bad way?"
"No, fuck," he snaps. "Why would you think that?"
"You're just... more afraid than I'm used to," I admit slowly. As expected, he tenses up again. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to relax.
"So those guys were straight, and they let you...?" he ask quietly, trailing off questioningly again.
"Not all of them. Some of them only topped me and really liked that. But yeah, plenty bottomed, and I never had any complaints. They were all nervous, but it really does feel good if you relax, Edward."
After a lengthy pause, he whispers, "Show me."
I sigh and lean down to start kissing his shoulder. He's so fucking stubborn and he's not going to let this go. I'm not really complaining about that, either. I just really don't like the fact that I feel like I'm pushing him, maybe too quickly. But he's not relenting and he's taunting me with that ass.
I could bounce a fucking quarter off that ass. Damn.
"I fucking love your ass," I groan, sliding my hand over his lower back, just above the perfect swell of his cheeks.
He continues to take deep breaths, choosing not to acknowledge my words. I kiss down over his shoulders, taking my time as I slowly work lower and lower. I cautiously slide my hand onto his butt cheek and his muscles tighten, but he quickly relaxes them as I rub and massage. I shift onto my knees and gently grip his other ass cheek with my now free hand.
As I start to kiss lower, his breathing starts to get shallow and I can feel the nerves kicking in. I know what he thinks I'm going to do, but in all honesty, I've never been much of an ass licker. I mean, I'll do it, but it's just not one of those things that I get all super excited about. Like blowjobs, I get extremely excited for blowjobs. Which is why I plant one firm kiss on his left ass cheek, give his ass a final squeeze, then say, "Turn over, sweet cheeks."
"What?" he asks, sounding surprised, and possibly a little let down. Great, an ass eating fan.
"Oh-ver," I draw out again, giving his ass a little slap.
He rolls and I settle myself between his legs, immediately diving in for a faceful of ballsac. He has hot nuts, I want to motorboat them. I forgo that, for now, and there's tonguing and sucking and licking and my fingers are ticking and scratching his inner thighs and he squirming and moaning. I manage to get his knees bent up and spread without him really noticing what I'm doing. His cock is in my throat and he's grunting and bucking and oh-so slyly I sneak in for a little perineum tickle-tickle.
The wonderful thing about perineal petting is that the less force used, the better. They're sensitive nerves and just the slightest touch ignites a serious response. I get my serious response in the form of him groaning, "Un, fuck, so close," while grabbing a pillow and fisting his hands into it. At least he's learned to lay off the hair.
Then I go in for the man killer. Well, not really, cause the real man killer is a prostate poke combined with a perineum pet while providing penile suction , but since I'm not sticking anything in anywhere without copious amounts of lube for a prostate poke, I settle for the almost man killer. Two knowledgeable fingers gently teasing one extremely tight hole, while the skilled thumbs pets Mr. Perineum.
Hello, Orgasm.
I swear there's going to be feathers everywhere with the way he's tearing at the pillow. Thank fuck it's not my hair. I take a deep breath and plunge down, ready for another round of super soaking of my throat. I'm hoping with his cock in my throat, I won't have such a difficult time swallowing all of the cum my boy has, but it's kind of detrimental position. Gravity works against me and his cum doesn't really shoot where I want it to and I'm swallowing so much to basically no avail. I'm choking worse on his cum this way.
I'm quite disappointed that I have to pull off of him about halfway through, not that he really notices much right now. Fuck me, he's being loud. Apparently he's enjoying himself. His hot little ass is pulsing away at nothing at all and it's so tempting to hawk up a cum-loogy for some lube to stick a finger in. Fuck, I can't wait to get my dick in there.
It takes me a while to clear the cum out of my throat and it takes him just as long to calm down from his orgasm. His body shudders as I pull my hands away from him and I can't help but smile when his cock tries to look lively when it's so obviously exhausted.
He sits up on his elbows, lazily watching me as I trace patterns on the skin of his thigh. "That was... Feel free to do that again."
I chuckle and lean into him, resting my head onto his warm, sweaty chest, not even caring that there is now going to be cum smeared across both of our bellies. He falls back down, taking me with him. His long fingers pull lovingly through my hair and my eyes flutter shut on their own accord.
"Can I do anything for you?" he asks.
I nod. "Just hold me."
His breath catches and I nuzzle into his warmth. "Always," he whispers.
– – –
"Shit. Shit. Fuck!"
"What?" I groan, rolling.
"Work. Late. Fuck."
I groan again when my ass hits fabric. It feels like I got a spanking, and my dick feels like it also got spanked extra hard. What the fuck?
Then I remember sunburn and piano and pillow bed. Blowjob and ass play and sleeping with the love of my life.
"Shit," I hiss, shooting up.
His ass disappears down the stairs and I hop up to follow. I have no idea what time it is, but once again, I think I've managed to make him late, or almost late.
I can hear a continuous string of curses being rattled off from his bedroom and I pause, slightly afraid that he's going to be angry with me. Okay, I'm more than just slightly afraid, I'm terrified. I never know when he's going to be upset and I never know when it's going to be directed at me.
I hear the shower running and he begins to curse loudly. I can't just stand there...
"Baby, are you okay?" I ask timidly.
"Fucking soap in my fucking eye," he hisses.
I bite my lip, wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do. Should I ask him if he wants me to leave? Asking him might piss him off more, maybe I should just go. But what if he doesn't want me to leave? God, this fucking relationship shit is hard—having an unpredictable, moody boyfriend only makes it that much more difficult.
I'm standing there in his bathroom, completely frozen and unsure what to do when he gets out of the shower. He doesn't bother with a towel and he's walking right for me and I flinch when he raises his arms at me.
He stops, mid... whatever he was going to do and gives me a quizzical look, his brow creased together. "Jasper, what's wrong?"
I gulp, though my mouth is already dry. "It scares me when you are upset. I never know if it's me," I rush out, my voice quiet and unconfident.
"Baby," he sighs, wrapping his arms around my neck. "I'm not upset with you."
He leans into me, kissing me softly at first. Hesitant, gentle pecks on my lips leave me wanting more and he deepens the kiss after I beg silently with parted, urging lips. The kiss is intense. My fear slips away and his anger dissipates until the only thing left is love. And want.
He breaks away suddenly. "I'm sorry, Jasper, but I have to go to work. I love you, don't fucking be afraid of me," he begs. I can see the plea in his eyes, and I honestly feel ashamed for doubting him.
I nod. "I'm sorry, I won't. I love you too."
He smiles lightly and steps away from me. "I can feel the heat coming off of your sunburn, it must be fucking painful. Put some shit on there, and take some ibuprofen."
He continues to talk as he walks bare-assed naked out of his bathroom, but I only catch the last half of what he says because his ass is fucking delectable, especially when all wet. He goes on about me staying here if I fucking want to, using what-the-fuck-ever I want to, eating every-fucking-thing I want, and wearing his fucking clothing if I fucking want to. He swears a lot.
"Just let me know if I need to meet you here or back at your place tonight, okay?" He asks, peeking around the corner at me. I'm still standing there, rather out of it. He snickers. "Can you do me a big favor and have food ready for me? I have a feeling today is going to be a bitch of a day."
I approach him slowly and he winds his arms low around my waist, though not low enough to bother my sunburn. "You're forgetting something," I say.
"What?"
"You made an agreement with someone to double-date tonight, sexy."
"Fuck," he hisses, dropping his head down into my shoulder. "Stupid fucking Emmett and his butt buddy."
I try not to be offended, but I can't help it, really. "Emmett and Jacob are a couple," I defend.
He snorts at that. "Has Emmett ever even had a relationship that wasn't based on sex?" Edward asks, thoughtlessly. He obviously didn't think that one through at all. I want to let it go, I want to laugh it off, but I'm not fucking Emmett, and it hurts.
I try to pull away from Edward but I think he realizes what he just did and he clings to me. "Shit, baby, don't, I didn't mean—"
"I'm the one who is the whore," I say, cutting him off. "Emmett has had boyfriends, I'm the one who always had 'butt buddies'. I'm the whore."
"No," Edward argues, begs, trying to hold onto me as I try to fight him off. "Baby, I didn't mean it like that, I was just being an asshole. You're not a whore."
I stop fighting and Edward grips my arms, pushing away enough to look at me while I stubbornly stare down and away from him. It's not his fault I was the whore, I don't even really care that he said anything, I just fucking hate that Emmett was the one he was poking at. Emmett is the one who knows about love and knows how to be in a relationship, I'm the fucking whore, I should be the one Edward is making fun of. Emmett doesn't deserve it.
"I can't do this right now," Edward implores. "If I don't leave right now, I'm going to be late."
"Go," I urge, not looking away from the one spot of stained grout on the perfectly white floor.
"Don't." His hands grasp my face firmly and my eyes are snapped to his forcefully, yet all too willingly I keep his gaze when he releases me. "Don't fucking push me away," he demands, bright green eyes hard with emotion and soft with his plea, and tears.
"Sorry," I breathe, reaching out to grasp his hands.
"I wasn't fucking calling you a whore," he insists, squeezing my hands tightly, like he's holding onto me, as if I'd flee.
I nod. "I know you weren't. You were calling Emmett a whore, but he's not the whore. Emmett is very loyal and he's a good man, he doesn't deserve to be called a whore when the actual whore is standing right in front of you. Emmett isn't the one who has fucked countless men without a hint of feeling or regret."
"Jasper, don't."
"It's not you I'm upset with," I assure him. "I'm the whore, Edward, that's not your fault. I made my bed, and now that I have to lie in it, it's not looking so comfortable. Don't worry, okay? I'll meet you at Winslow's."
"Meet me? Can't I pick you up?"
"You already said you think today is going to be stressful at work, I'll just meet you there."
"Jasper—"
"Trust me, okay? Just this once? I'll meet you there. I love you, now go to work."
I urge him away and he goes, but he doesn't go willingly. I can see that I've completely fucking freaked him out now, and he doesn't want to go. But I gave him my word, and he has to trust me.
He leaves, but I hear his fist connect with sheetrock along the way, and the sound of the front door slamming rattles through the house.
He has to trust me. It's not him that I'm upset with right now. I really fucking hate myself, though.
– – –
Edward texts me a couple times during the day.
The past isn't important.
It doesn't matter to me. I don't care what you've done.
I'm sorry.
Please text me back or I'm coming to find you.
I quickly texted him back that it was okay, not to worry, and that I would see him in a little bit.
His reply really choked me up. I love you.
I sent him one back letting him know that I loved him too, that I missed him, and that I was sorry if I made his day that much worse.
It was a bad day for me, that is for fucking sure. My sunburn is killing me and I have more regrets than I can count on both my fingers and toes.
I want to be a different person for Edward, a better man. I want to be someone he can trust, not just because I know that I'll never cheat on him, but because I want him to be confident in the fact that I'll never want anyone else. I don't want to be the man with the God complex anymore, I don't want to be the one who fucked the straight out of a guy. I want to be more, a good man, Edward's man.
But he seems to already think that I am more, that I am a good man. He says it doesn't matter, the past isn't important, but for me it all matters. I don't want to be a hypocrite, so I trust him. I trust that he knows what he wants, I trust that he loves me, even though I'm flawed. And I love him so fucking much, despite his own flaws, and I think that maybe that is how love works. You push beyond the past and you let it go. When you love someone, you forgive them their failures and you care for them unconditionally.
I spend a long fucking time getting ready to meet Edward, and the other two, at Winslow's. I want to look good for him, I want him to want me, I want him to be proud of me. Mostly I want to be someone he can be proud of, though today my shortcomings are on the forefront of my mind and I doubt that anyone would be proud of me, despite how good I can make myself look on the outside.
I have to shower twice because the first time I used an aftershave that smelled horrendous. By the time I'm finished, I'm finally fucking confident that I look good enough, and I'm running late. I still manage to take five minutes extra in the parking lot double checking my appearance and trying to calm myself down. I'm so fucking nervous.
Eventually I'm able to calm my nerves down enough to get the fuck out of my car and into the restaurant. Once inside, I start to scan the tables, but I can't find them. I consider approaching the hostess to ask where the fuck she seated my fuckhot boyfriend, but I hear a sigh and immediately recognize it.
I turn to see a look of relief on Edward's face as he approaches me and stuffs his phone in his pocket. His hair is a mess and he has a huge stain on his shirt, he looks fucking tired and I know he's probably had a terrible day, mostly because of me. He starts to approach me, but when I turn to face him fully, he stops and stares. My face heats as I realize that he's quite blatantly giving me the up-down, and he seems to approve. His eyes darken and he licks his lips before he starts to slowly approach me again. It makes me tingle. Seriously, his stare is fucking powerful and my skin feels like it's on fire.
He falters a few steps away, uncertainty obvious on his face. I take a hesitant step forward and he leans toward me, inhaling. He stares at me questioningly and I wonder if I still smell like that terrible fucking aftershave. I break his eye contact and try to inconspicuously smell myself, but all I can smell is cologne, the aftershave isn't there anymore.
"Jasper, why do you smell different?" he asks quietly.
I know what he means, because normally I'm lazy and cheap and I just use Axe. But today felt special, so I used some of the two-hundred dollar cologne that I only wear on extremely important occasions. It doesn't feel like he's asking me about my cologne choice though.
"That, my friend, is Jasper's five-year-old Chanel Allure that he never fucking wears. Smells nice, doesn't it? Fucking cheapskate bought the shit and refuses to wear it because it cost him so much," Emmett answers, throwing his fucking huge arm over my boyfriend's shoulder.
The relief is evident on Edward's face and it's my turn to stare questioningly. He breaks our eye contact to look at his shoes. "I should have went home and changed. You look really nice, and I look like fucking shit," he deflects.
But I know what he had been thinking. He thought I smelled like another man. He thought I was with someone else...
"You look fine," I say rather lackadaisically.
"Great, now that that's settled. Can we fucking eat? I'm starving. This asshole wouldn't let us be seated until you showed up," Emmett cuts in.
"How the fuck does that make me the asshole?" Edward snaps. "And get the fuck off of me."
"So I'm the asshole for being late?" I ask.
"Yes," Emmett answers, but I'm not asking him.
"No," Edward replies, finally meeting my eyes again. "That's not what I meant. Emmett is the asshole for wanting to be seated without you. Or maybe I'm the asshole," he mutters, looking back down at his shoe.
"No," I say.
"Great, now that that is also settled," Emmett sighs. "Jasper, Jake, Jake, Jasper," he motions.
"We've met," I say.
"No shit," Emmett deadpans. "The whole point of the introduction is that I wanted to make sure everyone had the names right since you lied like a dirty whore to him when you met him."
I frown and Edward tenses. "Don't fucking call him that," he growls at Emmett.
"It's fine," I say.
"No, it's not fucking fine," Edward snaps, this time at me. "You're not a fucking whore."
"Jesus Christ, you two drama queens can just work this shit out over here, we're going to eat," Emmett mutters, grabbing Jake's hand to lead him to the hostess.
I silently follow while Edward flounces behind me.
"Table for four, I guess," Emmett tells the hostess. "Away from the crowd preferably because these two are having a lover's quarrel or something." The hostess laughs and Emmett blankly says, "Seriously."
She gets uncomfortable then, eying Edward and I furtively, though I notice her doing it clear as fucking day. Bitch.
Shit gets even more awkward as we're seated and all four of us just fucking sit there like a bunch of dumbshits. No one talks. The only one moving is Emmett, who never sits still anyway. He's like a fucking four-year-old.
"Would you stop?" I gripe at him after he hit me in the head with a paper football.
"No," he says plainly, dropping off of his chair to crawl under the table to find his missing toy.
I jump when his face is shoved in my crotch. "Jake, would you fucking do something?" I yelp.
Jake just shrugs, looking amused. You've got to be fucking kidding me! "Emmett, I swear to God, I'm going to fucking sac-tap you so hard if you don't get off of my goods right now."
"I found it," he mumbles into my cock.
I don't know what he's found, but I wasn't kidding. Why isn't Edward fucking backing me up right now? I look over for some support, but he's quite obviously looking the other direction on this one, literally and figuratively. Fucking seriously!
"Got it!" Emmett exclaims, thankfully not in my crotch anymore.
I excuse myself to use the bathroom, in need of a second to breathe. Tonight isn't going as well as I'd hoped it would. It started off good, the way he looked at me, but fuck, downhill from there. I still fucking looked great, minus my eyes that were fixedly blank. I can't believe he thought I was with someone else, and I can't fucking believe he let Emmett manhandle me.
Deep breath, just breathe.
I guess it's what I fucking deserve.
Keeping that in mind, I make it back out to our table. I'm not going to hold anything against Edward, this shit is my fault.
I pause as I take in my table with curiosity. Emmett is leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his chin on his hands, watching with avid attention as who I assume is our waitress talks to Edward. Jacob is smirking at Emmett, his arm across the back of Emm's chair. But that's not what is so intriguing. The waitress looks familiar, and I don't come to Winslow's often. I have no idea how I would know her.
She's tiny, fucking slender, boney, and short tiny. Then it clicks. She boney, grinding girl. And she's chatting up my boyfriend.
I stalk my way over and practically shove her out of my way to take my chair, which I overly move closer to Edward's. The waitress smiles slow and wide, like the fucking Cheshire cat, and it's unnerving. I don't like it.
"What can I do for you?" she asks in a breathy voice.
"You can get us a new server," I say rudely.
I hear Emmett snicker, but I pay him no mind. The waitress' smile disappears quickly. "Why?" she asks.
"Because I don't trust you not to spit in my food," I reply.
She grimaces, taking a step back from her previously inappropriately too-close stance. "I wouldn't do such a thing. I don't hold what you said to me against you," she states firmly.
"Do you even remember what I said to you? You seemed wasted."
She waves her hand dismissively. "It's an act. Pretend to be drunk and the guys know you're a sure thing and are more uninhibited in bed. Works in both of our favors," she explains.
"Okay," I draw out. "I still want a new server."
"Fine, whatever, just one thing first."
"What?" I ask exasperatedly.
"I want in," she replies.
"In what?" I inquire, completely confused.
"Your bed," she drawls, leaning toward us to whip out the cleavage—sadly, I have more cleavage than she does.
I laugh, a bit hysterically, wondering how this night could get any worse. Then it occurs to me that it could. I could find out that Edward suggested this to her, or that he wants it.
Before I can really start panicking, Edward says, "We're not interested, please send us a new server."
"Seriously?" she whines. "So, you two are completely gay? I'm offering myself to you both, no strings attached, I'll do anything! What the fuck, who passes that up?" She turns to Emmett and Jacob. "Are you both completely gay too?"
Emmett salutes her. "Scout's honor. It's only the dirt trail for me, the snail trail doesn't please my piece, if you know what I mean."
"Same here. I've done a couple girls but it just didn't do the job. Plus, we're monogamous," Jake says.
The waitress turns back to Edward and I. "Last chance, boys. I'm really flexible."
"Sorry, no, we only have eyes for each other," Edward says instantaneously.
Emmett snorts to that and Jake 'aw's. I bite my lip and glance at Edward out of the corner of my eye, and catch him doing the same. It's so fucking shy and cute, but it makes me wonder if we're reverting or just being clumsy because of the bad day we've had.
"Fine, I'll send out Chelsea. She's a lesbian, you guys will love her," snaps the little waitress.
"Only figuratively," I snark at her. She glares.
Everything calms down a bit while we order from our new server and eat our meal. The table continues to be awkward, but at least there aren't any more sexual advances. Except from Emmett, but that's to be expected.
While we're trying to decide if we're going to hang out for dessert or if we're just going to call for the bill, Emmett gets unusually quiet—terrifyingly quiet considering that dessert is the topic.
"We can go if you want to," I offer to Edward.
"No, you decide. We'll do whatever you want," is his calm reply.
"I want you to choose. We can share something. Or we can just go."
"It doesn't matter to me."
"The chocolate torte does look good, but I don't think I can eat a whole piece."
"I'll buy you a piece and we can share it."
"No, I'll pay."
"I want to buy it for you."
"I can pay for it myself."
"If you're paying, I don't want any, you can just take whatever you don't want home."
"We should just go."
"But you wanted chocolate cake."
"Oh my God, what the fuck is wrong with you two?" Emmett intervenes. "You've been sidestepping around each other all fucking night. You both keep stealing glances but you won't fucking look at each other and both of you are being extra cautious about what you say. From what I can tell, neither of you has touched the other once tonight. What the fuck is wrong? Did something happen?"
"No," I say.
"Yes," Edward says over me.
We both glace at each other before looking back at Emmett. "So you two are fighting again, already?" he asks.
"Yes," I sigh.
"No," Edward says firmly.
Again, there is a fleeting look from both of us. Chelsea comes back to take our dessert orders and I begrudgingly agree to let Edward pay for a piece of cake for us to share. Chelsea explains that there will be a wait, but Emmett assures her that is fine.
"Talk," he demands of Edward and I. Neither of us jumps into an explanation which makes him sigh impatiently. "Is it sex?"
"No," I state.
"Yes," Edward contradicts, again.
"What?" I ask.
"Emm, maybe you shouldn't meddle," Jake suggests.
"Edward, explain," Emmett says, ignoring my confused stare and Jake's suggestion.
"He thinks he's a whore, I disagree," is Edward's stellar explanation.
"How does that have anything to do with sex?" Emmett questions.
"He won't have sex with me because he thinks it makes me another conquest," Edward says.
"I never said that," I defend.
"You didn't have to," Edward retorts.
"Jasper, I want your explanation," Emmett says.
"We had an... incident this morning. Edward called you a whore, and it bothered me because I've definitely slept with more guys than you have and never loved even one of them."
"So what he said is true, because you think you're a whore, you won't sleep with him?" Emmett presses.
"He's not a fucking whore," Edward snaps.
"No. Well, yes," I reply, ignoring Edward. "Because he thinks I'm a whore, I won't have sex with him."
"Fucking Christ, Jasper, I never called you a whore! I don't think you're a whore. I fucking love you," he whisper-yells.
I can feel his breath on my neck and I know he's facing me, but we still have that perfect amount of distance between us to keep us from actually touching. I slowly turn towards him. "When you smelled my cologne, you thought I had been with another man," I say, looking directly into his eyes.
He twitches slightly and I know it's guilt. He feels bad for thinking it, but he did think it. "Did you?" Emmett asks.
"Yes," Edward admits, not breaking eye contact. "But that's not because I think you're a whore, Jasper. I'm sorry that I don't trust you completely, but I don't fucking trust anyone completely. I'm fucking working on it, so yes, I did wonder if you had been with someone else, but I only wondered it. I didn't actually believe that you would do that to me."
"I wouldn't," I promise.
"I know," he insists.
"But you still wondered, because I'm a whore," I say flatly, breaking the eye contact.
"Fuck, Jasper, are you trying to fucking push me away?" he asks, grabbing my face and forcing me to look back at him.
"No," I tell him honestly. "But you need to fucking realize that I am a fucking whore."
"Oh my God," he deadpans. "Are you fucking serious right now? Do you want me to call you a whore? Will that make you hot? Is that what you want?"
"No," I reply blankly. "But I need you to understand that I planned on fucking you and never seeing you again, that is what I did, which makes me a whore."
He groans and then takes a deep breath. "I fucking know what your plan was, but you fell in love with me and now you don't even want to have sex with me so just fucking stop, okay? You had whorish ways before you met me, I'm not denying that at all, you're not perfect, but fuck, Jasper, we all fuck up. Before I met you, I was an antisocial bastard who drank too fucking much, would you like me to start labeling myself as an alcoholic hermit?"
"No, and I never said I don't want to have sex with you. I don't even know how you could think that."
"Are you done calling yourself a whore?"
"Maybe. Are you going to trust me?"
"I do trust you, but fuck, baby, it's hard for me."
"It's hard for me too. How do you think it feels for me waking up every day and knowing that I love you, but thinking that you're better off without me because of the shit I've done? I don't deserve you."
"How can you even fucking think that? You fucking saw what us being apart did to me, Jasper. Don't fucking do this to me again. You deserve me. You fucked up, so what? I've fucked up too! We all have. Why are you so fucking stuck in the past? Why can't you just be with me and forget about that shit? If I can forget about it, so can you!"
"But you're not forgetting, Edward, you're just pushing it into the back of your mind because you don't want to think about it. Just because you can pretend it didn't happen, doesn't make that the truth. I changed so many people who didn't want to be changed."
"Did they complain? Did they come back to you and tell you that you ruined their lives? No, not one of them did. I don't fucking care, Jasper. I just want to be with you, regardless of how many guys you fucked. That just makes it better for me, right? You know every fucking trick in the book. Last night was scary as fuck for me, I tried to hide it, but I'm sure you fucking knew I was freaking out. You changed me too, I'm not fucking complaining. Last night was fucking amazing, and I know now that I'm ready for it, when you're better. I love you, I want you, and I want to be with you. So just knock it off."
I take several deep breaths, trying to think up a retort, but I have nothing. Suddenly I feel like the world's biggest idiot. I lunge at Edward, nearly knocking him backwards with the force of my hug. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him tight, apologizing repeatedly. He shushes me and rocks me and strokes my back and I claim his mouth with as much love as I can express without using words.
"I'm so sorry," I say again, breaking away from the kiss. "The morning fucking started off bad. I was so afraid you were going to be pissed at me for last night or waking up late. Then I overreacted about what you said, and shit just spiraled. I was being oversensitive and probably feeling a little insecure because of my past. I'm so fucking sorry that I was a total asshole to you. I think someone is feeding me estrogen."
He laughs and smooths my hair. "It's okay, baby. I'm just normally the moody one, I don't know how to fucking handle it when you have a bad day. I don't fucking like it when you put yourself down, don't do that shit again, okay?"
I nod and kiss him again. He moans when I slowly run my hands down over his chest, and responds by doing the same, only he doesn't stop moving lower until he's gripping my hips. Unfortunately, we're in public, and our perfect little bubble has to be popped at some point.
"You guys are fucking weird," Emmett mutters.
"What happened last night?" Jake asks, way too innocently.
"Yeah," Emmett says, leaning forward eagerly.
"Nothing," I answer, straightening my shirt a little.
"Naw, something definitely happened last night, it was mentioned quite a few times in there." Emmett turns to Jake. "It wasn't the butt sex, because Edward said something about being 'ready for it'. The 'it' is definitely Jasper's cock. I think he got finger fucked last night." Jake nods, obviously concurring. I can't even bring myself to look over to see how Edward is reacting to this. "He's blushing, I think we're right," Emmett laughs.
I peek over at Edward to see that his face is indeed red, but he shrugs at Emmett and Jake's comments and leans back into his chair comfortably, reaching his arm out to toy with the collar of my shirt. Oh my god, I love him so fucking much.
"Nice," Emmett says, reaching over the table to high-five me. I ignore him completely, so he frowns and offers the raised hand to Edward, who also ignores him. "Fuck you both. You're a couple of prudes. I was getting finger fucked on our fourth date. How long have you been dating now, months?"
"You know what they say about those who wait," Edward whispers suggestively, sliding his fingers into my hair.
"Yeah, their dick shrivels up and falls off, that's what," Emmett says. "Oh, goody! Our cake."
Sure enough, Chelsea is finally coming with our cake. She apologizes profusely for the long wait, but apparently there was an unexpected increase of torte orders and they ran short.
Edward and I only ordered one piece for the both of us, but I try not to pout when he pulls the lone plate to his side of the table. He can have the cake for all I care, he deserves it after my bitchiness. I'm just fucking happy he hasn't left my menstruating ass.
He slices off the tip of the cake with his fork and my mouth waters at the layers of chocolate—oh my god, am I seriously on the fucking rag or what?
I expect him to eat it, but instead he's raising the fork to my lips.
"I don't know if that's creepy or just hot," I hear Emmett whisper.
I don't pay attention to him as I open my mouth. Edward carefully slides the fork in and I wrap my lips around the tines. I moan at the rich flavor, and I hear Edward sigh in response.
"Fuck, that's just really hot," Jake groans quietly.
They are so ruining this fucking moment.
Edward comes back with another bite of cake, again offering it to me. I lean forward to take it, purposely bracing my hands on his thigh. He's the one who moans this time when I wrap my lips around the fork.
"We need to buy cake," Edward says deeply. "It's almost as good as ice cream."
I grin at him. "You should see what I can do with chocolate syrup."
"Holy fuck, they're kinky," Emmett whispers. "They should make a porno."
"I'd watch that," Jake whispers back.
I roll my eyes and steal the fork from Edward before he can get another bite for me. It's my turn to feed him.
Feeding him is somehow even more erotic than being fed by him.
When the piece of cake is gone, both Edward and I are painfully hard, and I can see his cock throbbing through his pants—and mine just fucking hurts in a bad way thanks to the goddamn sunburn. I think both of us are just waiting for the fucking check now so we can get the fuck home.
After my hissy fit, he deserves a really fucking good blowjob, and I'm going to fucking give it to him.
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