Update - North of 86th Street (Jasper/Edward) Twilight part 2 of 4
North of 86th Street
Summary - They hid who they were when being gay meant overtly happy, one followed his heart, the other hid from himself. AH
Length - 10k in total, each part about 2/3k
Warnings - Slash, fairly angsty, infidelity and mentions of HET relationships, nothing TOO strong (some frottage, BJ's) in the Lemon department.
North of 86th Street
-:-1961-:-
He's pacing the room, back and forth, forth and back and the lights outside the window sparkle from the new high rises that crowd the Upper Manhattan skyline. I can see how tense he is from the set of his shoulders. From the fact he's smoking one cigarette after the other, beginning well before I arrived if the amount of butts in the same silver ashtray are anything to go by. He hasn't said a word since I entered, not even when I offered him a drink. He just pulled at his tie - mint green with fine silver stripes - and continued his pacing.
I took off my jacket, loosened my own tie and started sipping my vodka. I wasn't a scotch man anymore. Not since… well, not for a long time.
"She knows."
He speaks and I find myself jumping like I'd sat on a pin in reaction.
"What?" I ask, even though I'm fairly certain of the she and what it is she apparently has knowledge of.
"Bella. She knows. I'm sure of it."
I swirl the ice in my glass, happy to feel the burn of the clear liquid as I take a larger than normal sip. He's overreacting. He has to be because we've been careful.
"How would she know, Edward?"
He tugs at his hair and pulls another cigarette out of the silver case that I bought him the first Christmas after… this, whatever it is began. Edward's tapping it nervously on his palm, it's a nervous tic and it's slightly worrying to see him this out of control. He turns to me, those green eyes flashing with emotion. He's scared and upset and somehow I think I'm going to be the one wearing his wrath.
"She just does, Jay. She does." His hand shakes as he flips the lighter over and over again, the spark not catching, until finally he pitches it across the room. I flinch as it smashes against the wall and leaves a divot in the wallpaper that I only had redone a month before.
I raise my glass to my lips and finish what's left before pouring another and drinking it just as quickly. Now it's my hand shaking, the glass tumbler rattling against the silver holder as I attempt to pour a third. Before I realize that he has moved, Edward's hand is covering mine, he's turning my body toward his and enveloping me in his arms.
"I'm sorry, Jay. I'm sorry," he murmurs into my hair, and he holds me and I hold him.
We just stand there, chest to chest, as close as two people can be in clothing and I can feel him slipping away even though there is no physical space between us.
I should be happy that I've had him this long. That even though he got married and that he lives with her, this apartment that was once ours is mine and three times a week at least he's spent it here with me. She thinks it's the new account the firm has taken on keeping him back late. Air travel is all the fashion now and TWA are introducing in-flight movies. The art department has been working closely with the copy men on this, which means we've had ample opportunities to be alone together.
Although, I'm not sure our 'working together' is supposed to include us both naked in various settings and scenes.
My nose rests in that hollow between his shoulder and his neck and I'm breathing in starched collar and musk. He smells just the way he always does, but this time I'm drinking him in even more. I want his scent ingrained in my skin. I want the feel of his flesh pressing against mine in the most pleasurable of ways. I want his marks, his presence upon me, able to be seen and not just a memory hours and days later.
I don't want this to be over.
I don't want to let him go.
No words are spoken as he strips me of my clothes. His eyes, those clear green windows to his soul are locked on mine and I let him pull and tug at fabric until there is nothing left to take. Not one stitch and I feel as raw on the inside as I am on the out.
But I don't care.
I'm tugging his tie free, and quickly unbuttoning his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders as his lips meet the underside of my jaw. Sighs and soft sounds drift in warm lazy circles around our forms as he's dropping to his knees and I can't even breathe when his lips meet the head of my cock.
Then there's warmth and wet and he's taking me in so deep that I shudder and the bottles behind me clink with the movement. Still his gaze is burning deep into mine as my fingers wind into the burnished bronze of his stylishly combed hair and mess it up even though I know he hates that. I don't care, I just want to take from him because he's taking everything from me.
The flat of his tongue curls around the tip and his lips are twitching at the side with a smile as I whimper. Edward has such beautiful bone structure, his razor sharp cheekbones hollow and fill as he slides me in and out of his mouth. His lips are berry red as his hands are gripping my ass and pulling me closer. I want to be closer, I want to be closer still.
I want to leave a mark on him, and have him leave a mark on me. I want to keep him but I know that right now, even as the tip of my dick is touching the back of his throat and then being squeezed tighter as he swallows me down, that this isn't forever. This is just a moment. A last moment.
The goodbye is killing me even though it hasn't been spoken.
I'm so close but I don't want to finish this way. I want more, I want to make this last and last, and with what he's doing to me I know I won't. His hand is sliding between my legs and teasing my entrance with one finger. It's been so long - days - but it feels longer since Edward's touched me like this and I'm on the precipice and falling and I hate that I've gotten here so fast.
He's swallowing me whole and I can feel hot tears on my cheeks as I come hard in short thrusts into his mouth. I'm trembling as I reach for his cheek, needing to feel him in some tangible way. Edward's tongue peeks out to run slowly over his lips, left to right and top to bottom. It crosses my mind that he's making sure he leaves no evidence but I shake that off as I fall to the floor and crush my mouth against his own.
It takes me minutes with my shaking fingertips to unbuckle his belt then I'm throwing it behind me and listening to hit something with a metallic thud. He's rough, but I'm rougher, pushing and needling his mouth with my tongue and leaving no territory uncharted. Edward's perfectly shaped nails are digging into my chest, scratching and tearing at my skin. I say nothing, only shove him backward onto the scratchy pile carpeting.
I'm pushing his pants down with my hands then feet as his teeth scrape over where his fingers have been before. Still we don't speak. The only sounds that filter through the recycled air around us are gasps and groans and combined with touch - they say everything that we cannot.
Finally, Edward is kicking his legs free and his hands are on my waist, pulling my body close so I can feel his cock rubbing against mine, which already is starting to harden once more. I prop myself up and look between us, watching as we shift against each other. I can't tear my eyes from the blushing pink of his foreskin sliding back and forth revealing the inner purple head and slit where his arousal is seeping freely.
It's making me hot, making that familiar tightening of sensitive skin thicken and engorge as he flips us over and grinds his length against mine. My dick is sandwiched between his and my stomach and I'm holding him - anywhere… everywhere… just to hold him close. Fingertips pawing at slick, sweat covered skin - the rolling curve of his hip, the sharp line of his shoulder blade, the hollow that is made for my tongue to explore at the base of his throat. He's salt and bitter cologne and something sharper… my mind skips over what I know is her perfume because that would mean she's held him close, as close as I am now and I refuse to let her take away from our moment.
Edward slows it all down, slowing us down and his hands cup my face, the tip of his nose brushes mine back and forth, up and down as he just looks at me.
And I look at him.
I'm trying to memorize every single quirk and difference that makes him him. I want to see it all, know it all - from the thin scar in his right brow where he fell off his bike when he was ten, to the tiny blemish on his bottom lip. It's the slightest of slight discolorations, but I know these things, I know them and I need to remember them all. He's staring at me with such intensity that the normally grass green irises that are mixed with a shade of grey are now shot with golds and ringed with black making the rest pop.
We're locked in this staring contest and neither of us have blinked. I'm counting the lashes on his lower lids, one more on the left than the right which could be an anomaly or it could just be that I'm looking for something that isn't there.
I know it's there. We can't have done this for so many years now that there isn't something.
His thumb draws lazily over my lips and I'm brought back from the brink of saying something I shouldn't to the here and now. Edward inches forward, kissing me soft and sweet and all the while we're just looking at each other and letting our eyes express everything we feel.
Tongues tangle and teeth knock as his hand slips between our bodies and he's holding us and I'm holding him. We shift and rock and touch and then it's my name falling from his lips and it's myarms he's falling into. We lay there together, and yet I've never felt so alone.
~~ Inter Office Memo ~~
Attention all staff: Ed Masen Jr. and his family will be transferring to the newly developed Los Angeles office as CEO. We would like to wish Mr. Masen, his wife and their son all the best as they settle into their new lives on the West Coast. All further Creative Department inquiries are to be directed to…
.
.
.
.
1954 | 1968
This will be told in 4 parts and will update every Wednesday. Ilsuocantante or the Wearer of Words beta'd this, she's awesome. As always, insert Standard Disclaimer - recognizables belong to Stephanie Meyer and companies mentioned, as well as the fantastic Mad Men tv show on AMC that rocks my world with its epicness.
Thanks for reading, Boo
Summary - They hid who they were when being gay meant overtly happy, one followed his heart, the other hid from himself. AH
Length - 10k in total, each part about 2/3k
Warnings - Slash, fairly angsty, infidelity and mentions of HET relationships, nothing TOO strong (some frottage, BJ's) in the Lemon department.
North of 86th Street
-:-1961-:-
He's pacing the room, back and forth, forth and back and the lights outside the window sparkle from the new high rises that crowd the Upper Manhattan skyline. I can see how tense he is from the set of his shoulders. From the fact he's smoking one cigarette after the other, beginning well before I arrived if the amount of butts in the same silver ashtray are anything to go by. He hasn't said a word since I entered, not even when I offered him a drink. He just pulled at his tie - mint green with fine silver stripes - and continued his pacing.
I took off my jacket, loosened my own tie and started sipping my vodka. I wasn't a scotch man anymore. Not since… well, not for a long time.
"She knows."
He speaks and I find myself jumping like I'd sat on a pin in reaction.
"What?" I ask, even though I'm fairly certain of the she and what it is she apparently has knowledge of.
"Bella. She knows. I'm sure of it."
I swirl the ice in my glass, happy to feel the burn of the clear liquid as I take a larger than normal sip. He's overreacting. He has to be because we've been careful.
"How would she know, Edward?"
He tugs at his hair and pulls another cigarette out of the silver case that I bought him the first Christmas after… this, whatever it is began. Edward's tapping it nervously on his palm, it's a nervous tic and it's slightly worrying to see him this out of control. He turns to me, those green eyes flashing with emotion. He's scared and upset and somehow I think I'm going to be the one wearing his wrath.
"She just does, Jay. She does." His hand shakes as he flips the lighter over and over again, the spark not catching, until finally he pitches it across the room. I flinch as it smashes against the wall and leaves a divot in the wallpaper that I only had redone a month before.
I raise my glass to my lips and finish what's left before pouring another and drinking it just as quickly. Now it's my hand shaking, the glass tumbler rattling against the silver holder as I attempt to pour a third. Before I realize that he has moved, Edward's hand is covering mine, he's turning my body toward his and enveloping me in his arms.
"I'm sorry, Jay. I'm sorry," he murmurs into my hair, and he holds me and I hold him.
We just stand there, chest to chest, as close as two people can be in clothing and I can feel him slipping away even though there is no physical space between us.
I should be happy that I've had him this long. That even though he got married and that he lives with her, this apartment that was once ours is mine and three times a week at least he's spent it here with me. She thinks it's the new account the firm has taken on keeping him back late. Air travel is all the fashion now and TWA are introducing in-flight movies. The art department has been working closely with the copy men on this, which means we've had ample opportunities to be alone together.
Although, I'm not sure our 'working together' is supposed to include us both naked in various settings and scenes.
My nose rests in that hollow between his shoulder and his neck and I'm breathing in starched collar and musk. He smells just the way he always does, but this time I'm drinking him in even more. I want his scent ingrained in my skin. I want the feel of his flesh pressing against mine in the most pleasurable of ways. I want his marks, his presence upon me, able to be seen and not just a memory hours and days later.
I don't want this to be over.
I don't want to let him go.
No words are spoken as he strips me of my clothes. His eyes, those clear green windows to his soul are locked on mine and I let him pull and tug at fabric until there is nothing left to take. Not one stitch and I feel as raw on the inside as I am on the out.
But I don't care.
I'm tugging his tie free, and quickly unbuttoning his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders as his lips meet the underside of my jaw. Sighs and soft sounds drift in warm lazy circles around our forms as he's dropping to his knees and I can't even breathe when his lips meet the head of my cock.
Then there's warmth and wet and he's taking me in so deep that I shudder and the bottles behind me clink with the movement. Still his gaze is burning deep into mine as my fingers wind into the burnished bronze of his stylishly combed hair and mess it up even though I know he hates that. I don't care, I just want to take from him because he's taking everything from me.
The flat of his tongue curls around the tip and his lips are twitching at the side with a smile as I whimper. Edward has such beautiful bone structure, his razor sharp cheekbones hollow and fill as he slides me in and out of his mouth. His lips are berry red as his hands are gripping my ass and pulling me closer. I want to be closer, I want to be closer still.
I want to leave a mark on him, and have him leave a mark on me. I want to keep him but I know that right now, even as the tip of my dick is touching the back of his throat and then being squeezed tighter as he swallows me down, that this isn't forever. This is just a moment. A last moment.
The goodbye is killing me even though it hasn't been spoken.
I'm so close but I don't want to finish this way. I want more, I want to make this last and last, and with what he's doing to me I know I won't. His hand is sliding between my legs and teasing my entrance with one finger. It's been so long - days - but it feels longer since Edward's touched me like this and I'm on the precipice and falling and I hate that I've gotten here so fast.
He's swallowing me whole and I can feel hot tears on my cheeks as I come hard in short thrusts into his mouth. I'm trembling as I reach for his cheek, needing to feel him in some tangible way. Edward's tongue peeks out to run slowly over his lips, left to right and top to bottom. It crosses my mind that he's making sure he leaves no evidence but I shake that off as I fall to the floor and crush my mouth against his own.
It takes me minutes with my shaking fingertips to unbuckle his belt then I'm throwing it behind me and listening to hit something with a metallic thud. He's rough, but I'm rougher, pushing and needling his mouth with my tongue and leaving no territory uncharted. Edward's perfectly shaped nails are digging into my chest, scratching and tearing at my skin. I say nothing, only shove him backward onto the scratchy pile carpeting.
I'm pushing his pants down with my hands then feet as his teeth scrape over where his fingers have been before. Still we don't speak. The only sounds that filter through the recycled air around us are gasps and groans and combined with touch - they say everything that we cannot.
Finally, Edward is kicking his legs free and his hands are on my waist, pulling my body close so I can feel his cock rubbing against mine, which already is starting to harden once more. I prop myself up and look between us, watching as we shift against each other. I can't tear my eyes from the blushing pink of his foreskin sliding back and forth revealing the inner purple head and slit where his arousal is seeping freely.
It's making me hot, making that familiar tightening of sensitive skin thicken and engorge as he flips us over and grinds his length against mine. My dick is sandwiched between his and my stomach and I'm holding him - anywhere… everywhere… just to hold him close. Fingertips pawing at slick, sweat covered skin - the rolling curve of his hip, the sharp line of his shoulder blade, the hollow that is made for my tongue to explore at the base of his throat. He's salt and bitter cologne and something sharper… my mind skips over what I know is her perfume because that would mean she's held him close, as close as I am now and I refuse to let her take away from our moment.
Edward slows it all down, slowing us down and his hands cup my face, the tip of his nose brushes mine back and forth, up and down as he just looks at me.
And I look at him.
I'm trying to memorize every single quirk and difference that makes him him. I want to see it all, know it all - from the thin scar in his right brow where he fell off his bike when he was ten, to the tiny blemish on his bottom lip. It's the slightest of slight discolorations, but I know these things, I know them and I need to remember them all. He's staring at me with such intensity that the normally grass green irises that are mixed with a shade of grey are now shot with golds and ringed with black making the rest pop.
We're locked in this staring contest and neither of us have blinked. I'm counting the lashes on his lower lids, one more on the left than the right which could be an anomaly or it could just be that I'm looking for something that isn't there.
I know it's there. We can't have done this for so many years now that there isn't something.
His thumb draws lazily over my lips and I'm brought back from the brink of saying something I shouldn't to the here and now. Edward inches forward, kissing me soft and sweet and all the while we're just looking at each other and letting our eyes express everything we feel.
Tongues tangle and teeth knock as his hand slips between our bodies and he's holding us and I'm holding him. We shift and rock and touch and then it's my name falling from his lips and it's myarms he's falling into. We lay there together, and yet I've never felt so alone.
~~ Inter Office Memo ~~
Attention all staff: Ed Masen Jr. and his family will be transferring to the newly developed Los Angeles office as CEO. We would like to wish Mr. Masen, his wife and their son all the best as they settle into their new lives on the West Coast. All further Creative Department inquiries are to be directed to…
.
.
.
.
1954 | 1968
This will be told in 4 parts and will update every Wednesday. Ilsuocantante or the Wearer of Words beta'd this, she's awesome. As always, insert Standard Disclaimer - recognizables belong to Stephanie Meyer and companies mentioned, as well as the fantastic Mad Men tv show on AMC that rocks my world with its epicness.
Thanks for reading, Boo