keptherwaiting | 1948 / Philadelphia

She takes his hand, letting him pull her up to him. Settling the other hand on his shoulder, Alice knows that if she could flush, she’d be pink from her ears down.

There’s a radio on the dresser, just out of reach, but leaving his arms to turn it on sounds far too bleak. Instead she settles into his grasp, marveling at how tall he is.

“You’re so tall,” Alice whispers, her arm stretched to reach his shoulder. She laughs, a little nervously: “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Jasper laughs again, as he pulls her closer with his hand flat on her back.

He reaches for the other hand at his shoulder to clasp in his.

"You can say whatever you think. Not like it's a lie. We'll call it an apparent observation."

He hesitantly starts to sway to that song he'd heard so long ago.

"Another apparent observation: You're quite short, and I'm a little rusty at this dancing."

“It’s good enough for me,” she murmurs, a little distracted by how close he is. How good he smells, how strong he feels.

Alice clears her throat, wetting her lips nervously before concentrating on the sway of their bodies. “Dancing’s not all about the steps,” she smiles. “It’s about enjoying what you’re doing.”

He's growing more confident by the moment, moving more, swaying this way and that, even humming a little of the unknown song.

"Easy enough to, when you've got the right partner."

There’s a dozen little visions floating in the air like spiderwebs in the sun. One, he turns this way, another, that way. A dip, a spin, always his hands strong and confident on her. She bats them away, mentally, wanting so desperately to live in the moment and not glimpse it before it happens.

“Well, lucky for me,” Alice smiles coyly up at him, “It looks like I’ve found the perfect one.”

There's a nervous, half-suppressed laugh,a momentary stumble in his growing confidence, before Jasper clears his throat, trying to keep his calm.

"I'm only as perfect because of my partner," he says, meeting her gaze now that he's no longer afraid he'll crush a foot with one wrong step.

Not that it helps to keep his emotions in check as he takes in the gold of her eyes, the upturn of her nose, the pout of her lips.

" - Do you know this song?"

He's trying to ignore the strong desire to kiss her, humming a few more bars of it for her.

"--yes," Alice realizes, with a few more bars hummed. "Duke Ellington. I can't remember the name of it though. It'll come to me, I'm sure."

She's wanted to kiss him since she kissed him in the diner. In fact, she's wanted to kiss him this entire time and to never stop kissing him because kissing him is very nice. And she's ninety percent sure it's because it's him kissing her but also she can't remember being kissed before and is kind of wondering why she didn't do it sooner.

Though, in retrospect, kissing random humans in her early years probably would have led to many more accidents.

"Thank you," she murmurs, watching him look at her. His eyes are dark, he must be between feedings; his nose straight and strong; she wants to slide her fingers through his hair to see what it feels like. Instead her fingers twitch against his.

He's watching her lips as she speaks and he leans in and down, a breath away, his nose brushing the tip of hers.

He's drawn to her, wanting to kiss her, and yet -

"Are you thanking me for the dance?" he asks in a murmur.

- He's scared?

He'd fallen for another vampire, too fast and too hard before. And it had cost him. Dearly.

Not that Alice is anything like Maria. This he knows already.

Her head tilts up to his and then--

The almost-kiss is aborted. She huffs a tiny laugh, a breath against his lips. Still, she brushes her nose against his again, enjoying the closeness of him.

"No," she breathes, her fingers tight on his, the other tight on his shoulder. "For comin' with me. For just...believing and coming with."

She bites her bottom lip and whispers, nervously: "Can I kiss you again?"

" - Yes?"

Jasper is already closing the last inch between them, pulling her impossibly closer, hand at her back.

To Hell with being scared.

This feels right to him. Alice, in his arms. Her lips against his. Her delight and desire matching his own.

This kiss blows the first one out of the water.

The kiss in the diner was in response to a possibility she could not let come to pass, quick and fast and this one--

--well, this one is different. Softer, slower, perfect. Her hand slips from his shoulder to his neck, into his hair, the other holding on at his waist. If her heart beat, it would surely beat right out of her chest.

He feels right. Impossibly close, his hand at her back, his and her emotions fueling each other. Yes, she thinks happily. This is who I waited for.

It'd grieve Jasper to pull away now, even for a moment, and so he doesn't. His hands move, cupping her face, blending one kiss with another and then another.

Her hands in his hair, the other clutching the shirt she'd bought, her utter happiness of just being in his arms is very much overwhelming him.

What was his reason for not kissing her sooner?

The kisses deepen, last longer between each one, her happiness and desire mounting as she returns each one.

She knows, somewhere in the recess of her mind, that her emotions are going to get the better of him, but she doesn't want him to stop. Wants him to kiss her like this forever. Wants this, wants more, wants everything between them always, forever and--

Alice forces herself to pull back, inhaling a sharp lungful of air so she can speak, her hands coming to cup his face like he does hers, her forehead pressing tightly against his. "Wow," she whispers hoarsely, her smile wide and beaming against his lips as she presses another kiss against them--this one quick, though it only leaves her wanting more. "I was really missin' out these last twenty-eight years, not kissin' people."

She laughs, the sound like windchimes in the air. Then, carefully, knowing she's got to be affecting him: "You okay?"

"I'm great," he murmurs, chasing Alice's lips with his own, like someone who has gone twenty-eight years without kissing.

His arms go around her tiny waist, lifting her off the ground with ease so her lips are level with his and he can kiss her again.

"I'm glad you haven't gone around kissin' strangers," he continues in response to her question, trailing his lips to the corner of her mouth.

"Am I allowed to say that? Am I allowed to be jealous?"

It's perhaps a brief moment of clarity, a collision of his own emotions and hers, before his lips are on her yet again, tracing the line of her jaw.

(He is clearly much more affected by her than he even realizes.)

It's dizzying, the heady desire that fogs the room around them. It's also lovely--she's never felt this way before, never wanted someone to touch her like he is now. His lips at her jaw, his arms around her waist.

Her knees bracket his hips, the skirt of her dress bunched up between them as she tilts her head back, letting him trail kisses down her jaw, her neck. Her hands hold tight to his shoulders, fingers twitching slightly when she gasps air into her lungs, totally lost to him.

"--wait," Alice whispers, before she gets so lost she can't think straight. Wait, what is she doing? She doesn't want him to stop but, "Jasper--"

"Me tienes como un loco," is a whisper against her skin.

He has one hand bracing her, holding her up and pressed against him, another following a path along her stocking, under the skirt of her dress.

There had been a good reason of his wanting to wait to do this.

Jasper can't imagine what that is now.

"Y sigue así, no pares ya."

"Oh--"

Alice leans forward, her head bracing against her arm around his neck, her hips tilting forward to aid in his journey. The trail of his fingers, the muttered Spanish that she cannot understand, the air in the room hot and heavy.

"Merde," she mutters, taking his face in her hands and crashing against his lips in another kiss, all tongues and teeth clashing, desperation laced and needy.

The tilt of her hips, the desperation and need, is driving Jasper crazy.

His voice is a low growl in her ear when he breaks away from her kiss to drop her on the bed. "¿Qué voy a hacer contigo?"

He's pressing her into the blanket with another kiss, fingers insistent in pushing her skirt up and up, brushing cotton.

"Quiero tocarte, sentir tu piel."

Her back hits the bed and it's like an alarm goes off in her head. For half a second, before he kisses her again. Then she loses the urgency and--

No, no, no, he'll hate her, he'll hate himself if this--

Alice grabs at his shoulders, pushing him back. "Jasper, wait, wait, wait--oh God--"

She rolls out from under him, pressing herself against the wall, chest heaving as she trembles against the flowery wallpaper. "You can't," she whispers, hoarsely. "It's not....it's me. I'm making you do this. You don't want to, not yet."

Jasper is left clutching at the blanket. He blinks, once. And again. "What - ? No, of course, I do. Alice - "

But then he sees her trembling form, the way she curls away from him, and he freezes, the haze of need lingering but quickly evaporating.

"Oh God. Alice, I'm - I - "

What did he say? He was talking Spanish, wasn't he? He'd been saying what he wanted to do with her.

To her.

"Oh God."

He's mortified.

"I am - I apologize, Alice. I shouldn't have - Are you okay? God, you're not okay. You're shaking."

"No! No." She shakes her head, her hands reaching out for him before thinking better of it, hands pressing flat against her thighs as she bends, taking a deep breath to clear her mind.

Or try to. She keeps thinking of his hand on her thigh, creeping up, higher and higher, and how much she wanted that.

"It's, it's not a bad shaking," Alice's voice is strained, frustrated, annoyed at herself. Sliding down the wall, she curls forward so her head rests against her knees as she tries to find the right words to say. "I'm fine, Jasper. But," her eyes rise to meet his, big and round, sad and pleading. "I'm so sorry. I let myself get out of hand. I didn't mean--I just wanted to kiss you, I swear. I didn't mean to let myself get all..."

Her hands make a vague motion in front of her. It's not helpful, but it may convey the feeling of hnnngh she's trying to show him.

She's mortified. And feels so guilty. "It's not your fault, at all. I wanted, I want--"

Ugh, this is going so wrong. Her eyes close, head falling back against the wall. "I want you," she mutters to the ceiling. "And I am very bad at not projecting my emotions, apparently. And I'm sorry. Again. I'll understand if you want to leave. I wouldn't trust me either, honestly."

She may hear the bed creak as she's busy staring at the ceiling. That would be Jasper moving closer to her, placing a hand atop hers.

Even though, said hand is on her thigh and he'd been ready to rip that dress off of her to run his hand higher, feel her -

Jasper clears his throat.

"Alice," he says, softly. "I don't want to leave. They weren't just your emotions, they're mine too. I got carried away as well."

But, his original worry is coming back to him now: Wanting to wait, because he didn't want to use her. She feels strongly about him. He doesn't want to take advantage of that.

And, there is the matter of his past, and the last relationship he was in.

Rushing in doesn't seem like the best of ideas.

"I just..."

Why wouldn't he leave? She's been alone since the start. Someone changed her, then left her behind. Sometimes she really wishes she could sleep. She thinks she'd enjoy laying down for a while and just shutting off.

Her hand turns under his, clasping his long fingers with her smaller ones, drawing his hand to her lips to kiss his knuckles, softly. "What a day."

Alice lets go of his hand to push herself up off the floor, moving to the radio on the dresser, turning it on and fiddling with the dial before settling on a station, and a song. "Maybe soon we can go to a music shop. I'll get something from the twenties and teach you the Charleston and the Lindy Hop. A bit crazier dances, but fun."

What a day.

An understatement, that.

Jasper takes a deep breath as Alice had moved to turn the radio on. The sudden change of topic is a welcome one. He's still... recovering.

"Okay," he agrees to visiting a music shop. A glance out the window says it might be too late now, and the rain falling heavily still. "Maybe tomorrow?"

Edited 2020-06-27 22:37 (UTC)

"Tomorrow sounds good."

Alice watches him, leaning against the dresser, feeling ashamed. And unable to salvage things. Nervous again, as she twists her fingers together again and again.

She feels like apologizing again.

But she stays silent, turning around and fiddling with the volume, turning it lower.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject