He watched the man put his hand over her chest, and they made sounds, his hips pressing her into the bed as she began removing his shirt. Jasper was excited. He sat up and leaned closer to the television, snotty tissues being crushed in his fists as he gaped at the screen, wide-eyed. The man began thrusting and moving on top of her and… Jasper knew that he wanted to do that.
The sooner the better, in fact.
He felt so thrilled watching it. He wanted to turn off the television and go to his bed right then. But Jasper stopped at the top of the staircase. He contemplated it a little more, and he realized that he didn’t share a bed with a woman.
He shared a bed with Edward.
Jasper wasn’t able to think of anything since. The only thing more exciting than doing that with a woman was doing that with Edward.
The thought also amused him that night as Edward jumped into his bed. The springs would make them bounce, Jasper was certain. He wanted so badly to do it with him. It looked like so much fun. But something on the surface stopped it from emerging in the form of brave and exciting displays. He was afraid of waking Edward’s Aunt and Uncle with his dark little giggles and bouncing, bouncing, bouncing.
Shortly after that, Jasper began having curious physical reactions to Edward’s body, though he didn’t completely understand them. He was forced to hide countless, perplexing stiffenings of his penis and the evidence of thrilling dreams against his soft, sticky belly come sunrise in their shared beds.
The first time it happened, he panicked, thinking he’d wet the bed and that—surely—he’d humiliated himself in front of the one and only person whose opinion had ever mattered to him. Frantic, he kicked a bewildered Edward out of bed and shoved his dirty underwear into the bottom of the bathroom waste can, praying that he wouldn’t be caught and punished for doing something so unbelievably childlike.
Esme found them and promptly informed her husband. This spurred a rather uncomfortable and awkward conversation regarding words foreign to Jasper: masturbation, ejaculation, penetration. All of the “—ation’s” confused Jasper as he sat in Dr. Cullen’s office, red-faced and bewildered. Especially since Dr. Cullen kept mentioning girls. Jasper had never liked girls. They were gross.
But Edward was not.
Jasper liked Edward. He found his face and symmetry to be intriguing, could stare at him for hours and never grew bored of it. When Edward would lay next to him, Jasper would like the warmth against his stomach and chest, would wish to be closer to him.
Jasper wasn’t able to determine whether or not it was okay to feel that way toward Edward, so he felt it best to keep it secret until he discovered otherwise. He was too afraid to ask Dr. Cullen. He didn’t want to risk his new home—his best friend. The thought alone terrified him. He was certain that he could not exist without Edward. He often hated his reactions toward Edward for this reason, though he couldn’t understand why he should have to hide them.
It felt so natural.
Later, Jasper became consumed by curiosity over his body—enraptured by the sensations of touching his penis. He wondered about what Edward’s might look like. He’d wrap his fingers around the stiff length and pretend it might be his. He desperately wanted to know what it might feel like to rub them together, though he feared that asking might be inappropriate.
He didn’t masturbate like normal boys either—preferred laying atop a pillow rather than using his hand, as Dr. Cullen had once awkwardly explained to him. It was the only way he’d ever seen anyone have sex before. It was easier for him to imagine that Edward was beneath him, giggling and making sounds much like the people on television had.
Jasper’s pants always grew tight when he got a new pillow.
—
“It’s cold,” Edward shivered as he sprang through the door to Jasper’s room. Jasper had been waiting since his door had closed that evening. He was too old to fear ridiculous things like monsters now—a thirteen-year-old. A teenager. This thought excited Jasper.
He couldn’t wait for school to let out for the summer so that he and Edward could go to the beach. Jasper still couldn’t swim, but that didn’t matter. He liked seeing Edward in his swim trunks, had even encouraged him to buy the black ones.
He liked seeing Edward’s body, so much more toned than his own. Jasper was usually described as “twiggy,” with his skinny arms and legs and awkwardly frail frame. Jasper also had long, ragged scars across his back that he was too embarrassed to reveal. But Edward was so perfectly proportioned and symmetrical and… perfect. Jasper wished he looked like that.
Jasper chuckled and flung back the blankets just as Edward approached the bed, diving beneath with chattering teeth. The winter would be gone soon, but for now, Forks was wet and cold and the hardwood floors of their rooms did nothing to help matters. Jasper hissed as he felt one of Edward’s cold toes touch his.
Then he said, “You’re freezing! Get over here,” and eagerly opened his arms to Edward, who did not hesitate to accept Jasper’s offering. Their chests crushed together and residual shivers emanated through Edward’s body as Jasper warmed his arms with his hands.
Jasper nuzzled his nose into Edward’s hair—Edward’s soapy-smelling hair—and sighed, happy that he was no longer alone. For even if Jasper was much too old to fear ridiculous things, he certainly could not deny that being alone in the dark unnerved him.
Crushed chest-to-chest under the quilts, Jasper could finally turn out his lamp and find peace. Jasper burrowed deeper into him, as he always did, and hooked one of his legs around Edward’s. He wanted to keep him pinned to his side as his anxious eyes searched the darkness of his bedroom. Edward’s sleepy breaths washed over his neck and eased Jasper.
It was then that Jasper’s focus would shift from the darkness to the body against him. Jasper felt his chest rising and falling and pushing and pulling. He felt Edward’s hand at his back, limp as he slipped into slumber. Jasper felt Edward hips against his and he had to move back—just a little.
Jasper’s erection throbbed.
Secretly, he’d rub softly against Edward some nights when he was certain his slumber was deep enough. Just a brush against his thigh, light as a feather. It was enough to create lengthy dreams that were far more fulfilling. He’d feel his curves and snake his arms around his torso, squeeze him gingerly and but a gentle rock was enough to satisfy his need and make his imagination run wild.
As Edward now slept against him in the cold room, Jasper anticipated that moment. His penis was throbbing and ached to be pressed against something. Anything. Jasper remained still until he was absolutely certain he would not rouse Edward. Then, slowly, he brought his hips forward and his erect penis touched Edward’s hip.
Jasper wanted to make sounds and rub against him further, though he knew he couldn’t. He was frustrated. He chided himself for being careless and not masturbating as he often did before Edward would come to his room.
He’d seen other boys their age french kissing girls much like he’d seen on television that day.
But Jasper didn’t want to french kiss girls. He sighed into Edward’s hair and eventually closed his eyes, wondering if he’d ever be able to have those things with Edward. But for now, Jasper really didn’t care. As much as he spent his time thinking about sex and kissing and rubbing his erection against the pillow that he wished was Edward, he was certain that—so long as he had this—he would be perfectly content for the rest of time.
Jasper hugged Edward tighter.
—
The first moment Jasper recognized a thin fracture between him and Edward existed was at the piano. It was a foreign, baffling thing, this crack that that could grow into a chasm at any moment. Try as he may have to ignore it, one Sunday morning proved it impossible.
“No. Your fingers aren’t moving fast enough,” Edward instructed through gnashed teeth, brows pulled together in annoyance. He had the most adorable scowl gracing his lips, hard, and yet soft.
Jasper replied, “What’s wrong with going slow?” and tried the melody once more, so languorous that it was drawn into a series of sharp, ragged notes.
Edward cringed. “Because it’s not a song if it takes a year to play,” and then Edward shut the cover so hastily that it struck Jasper’s wrist, and he snatched his hand back in surprise.
Staring at the bruising line, Jasper felt a pang in his chest where his happiness usually existed, nestled deep within Edward’s soft caresses and gentle smiles. The slamming of his wrist put a dark, black mark upon Jasper’s heart. He tried to shove it away, into the back of his soul where Edward’s other indiscretions lay—a shove of his shoulder, an annoyed snapping-at, a tattle-telling to Esme—and yet Jasper couldn’t simply disregard it.
They were becoming more and more frequent, he realized with sudden alarm.
He’d been trying to get Edward to teach him the piano. He knew so much about music and could play so beautifully. Jasper felt locked out of some obscure niche in Edward’s life that he couldn’t quite access.
But Jasper was horrible at playing piano and Edward was too impatient to teach him properly. It had taken him over a month to learn simple childhood lullabies, and his fingers were too short and awkward to move with the same speed and grace as Edward’s.
Jasper rubbed his wrist, scowling at the piano cover. He didn’t like piano anymore, couldn’t grasp the complexity of playing the damn thing. It made him feel inferior to Edward, as if he were unable to keep up. He feared being left behind in his simple ways and lack of luster. Jasper didn’t have any kind of special talents.
Edward’s fingers came up to the bridge of his perfectly straight nose and he pinched it, squeezing his eyes closed. Jasper kept his gaze locked on his wrist and eventually felt Edward’s hand on his own, prying it away from his spiteful grasp.
Edward smiled ruefully, but then he brought Jasper’s wrist up to his lips—his perfectly pink lips—and kissed the reddened line, green eyes fixed to Jasper’s, oh so contrite. “Sorry,” he whispered when he gingerly released his hand, but Jasper was in a state of shock from the sensation that still tickled against his bruising flesh.
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