keptherwaiting | 1948 / Philadelphia

1948 / Philadelphia

"So, where do we go from here?"

"I could use a walk."

"I'd like that, ma'am."

The rain seemed to be coming down harder now than it had been. The roads flooded, cars spraying the water this way and that. But Alice seemed capable of missing each and every little wave that was sent their way, pulling them aside before it so much as formed.

The drops were loud against Alice's umbrella, which Jasper took from her to hold above their heads, but it could be the rapid beating of his heart, if possible. His palm might be sweaty in her grip, even through the glove on her hand, if it could be.

She'd said he makes her nervous. She makes him nervous too.

"Have you been in Philadelphia long?" he asks.

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"Oh, maybe some more kissin'," She grins, laying next to him, partly on him, mostly on the bed.

She's giving him plenty of opportunity to back out, if he wants, and be good.

But she's kissing him again, her hand at his jaw, thumb stroking his chin, so he might not want to.

Jasper should slow things down again, he should perhaps put some distance between them, maybe end the night now by leaving.

And yet -

"Whatever you want, darlin'," he murmurs, his arm looping around her to drag her closer, mostly on him, partly on the bed.

She learns the shape of his lips really well. The curve of his jaw, the apples of his cheeks. The scars on his neck. What his hands feel like at her waist, unhurried, taking their time. She's true to her word--just a bit of kissing--her hands never straying from his arms, neck, shoulders.

At some point, she rolls them over, so he's settled against her, his body a wonderful weight against hers, her knees drawn on either side of his hips, her hands in his hair as he kisses her into the mattress.

Time passes--minutes? Hours? She's unsure, dazed, like she's coming out of a dream. A soft, hazy feeling hangs over them, the radio playing softly in the background, rain pattering against the window, the curtains still drawn to show them the night sky and the lights of Philadelphia.

Jasper lays next to her, his head pillowed on his arm, red lipstick smudged all over his face. She can feel it smudged on hers too, and it makes her smile at the ceiling. All they did was kiss.

But they kissed a lot.

She rolls to her side, curling up next to Jasper, watching his profile before tugging on the collar of his shirt and laughing. Lipstick there too. "Whoops."

Jasper doesn't mind the lipstick, laughing with her as he too rolls to his side to face her.

"You've got it everywhere," he says, reaching over to swipe his thumb across only one of many smears near her lips.

He's never spent so long just kissing someone before. It's left him feeling a little more exposed than sex ever has. Especially every time her lips found a new scar on his neck to trace.

He's a little shy now as he runs his thumb across her lips.

"I think the lipstick is everywhere but your lips now."

"Well, it's like a map," she murmurs, her fingers moving to trace over a lipstick-smeared scar at his neck. "Places I learned tonight."

Alice's fingers rise back up to smooth out his shirt, watching him, pursing her lips against his thumb. "I'll forgo the lipstick next time."

Her fingers on his neck evokes a shiver.

"Not on my account, I hope," he murmurs, managing to keep his voice steady. "I don't mind the lipstick. The red's quite a look on you."

"We'll see how easily it comes off your skin."

She scoots forward, the tiniest amount, to close the distance between them, placing another lingering kiss on his lips.

Jasper holds her close for an even longer kiss.

"It'll come off."

He does not know this for sure.

He just really likes the red lipstick on her.

It cements and sticks. The possibility.

"Alright," she whispers, a smile blossoming against his lips. "I won't get rid of it yet."

"Good," he murmurs against her lips, his hands slide lower, past her hips, curving to her behind to pull her even closer to him. "Está muy caliente."

"Ohh," she sighs against his mouth, her hand curling tight around his bicep. "You're going to get me in trouble."

With him. With herself. It's all getting foggy again.

He's brushing his lips along her jaw, nipping at her ear, hips moving gently against hers.

"Do you want me to stop?"

She only has to say.

"Whatever you want," he reminds her.

Edited 2020-06-29 03:59 (UTC)

"No," she whispers, biting down on her lip as his mouth trails along her jaw. She exhales heavily against his temple. "Just don't want you to think you're takin' advantage."

He stills, pausing long enough in his desire for her to catch her breath, hopefully clear her head of the fog as best she can.

"Am I?"

He really needs to know what she thinks about all this before he goes any further.

"--no," she blinks up at him, her gold eyes wide as she takes him in. "No, you're not."

Alice tugs him down, kissing him again, her teeth catching at his bottom lip, pressing herself against him tighter--

"I don't think I've done this before," she mutters, pulling back again. Her eyes are still wide, but it's not with worry or fear, just nerves. "I mean, that's probably obvious, with the fact you were my first kiss for at least twenty-eight years, right? I'm ruining this aren't I?"

"No, you're not," he promises her softly, an echo of her own words to him.

His hand slides down, pressing her hips back against the bed, stilling her momentarily.

It's a little hard to think clearly when she's pressing against him like that.

"We don't have to have sex, Alice."

He needs her to know that, and also:

"There are other things we can try. That I can do to you. For you."

Other things.

Alice really hopes she doesn't look as dumb as she feels right now, but she's doubting it because the hand at her hip is just making her brain feel like it's full of sand right now. Also his words. His words may also have something to do with it.

"It's not that I don't want to," her voice is the barest whisper, soft, calmer as she sinks back into the mattress. Even if her brain is just elevator music. "I do, I do want to. I just don't want to..."

Disappoint him.

"I want you to enjoy it too."

Jasper smiles softly at her honesty, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

"Do you see me not enjoying it?" he asks, speaking to her gift. "Because, I will."

"I just want you," Alice whispers, chasing his lips to try and steal another kiss.

It's not enough. She wants more, any and everything she can give him, he her.

"I'm right here," Jasper whispers in return before he kisses her again, before allowing himself to melt into her embrace once more.

If only for the moment. Because -

"I want to touch you - " His voice is a whisper still, repeating his words from earlier that night. This time, so she understands. He slides his hand along her leg, disappearing under her skirt. " - Feel you."

A soft gasp, hard swallow, as his hand slips up her leg. The stockings end mid-thigh, garters clipping them in place, under the layers of dress and slip.

She wants that too. The touching, the feeing. And she wants to touch him back.

Her fingers tug his shirt from the waistband of his pants, the undershirt bunches up in the back as she slips her hand under it, fingers tracing the scars she finds. Her head turns, to kiss him again, soft and sweet and only kind of desperate this time.

Jasper pauses only fleetingly when her fingers brush his scars. He wishes he wasn't so conscious of them, but he knows what other vampires feel when they see him. Yet Alice seems almost fascinated by them?

He doesn't want to think too much on it right now. Not with Alice below him, soft gasps and desire.

His fingers find the clasps of her garters as he returns her kiss and he makes quick work of it, rolling her stocking down and off, thrown aside, off the bed.

The other he takes more care with, breaking their kiss to bunch the fabric of her skirt out of the way, follow the path of the stocking with his lips as he strips it off of her.

She mourns the loss of contact, of his body pressed tight against hers, but then his lips are trailing up her leg and she loses what little bit of coherent thought she was holding onto.

The rain falls harder outside, the room lit by the little table lamp on the dresser, backlighting Jasper like the sun did. His hair aglow, his face thrown into contrast with dark shadows. Her breath hitches and she’s sure she could fly apart with how happy she is.

Her foot curls against the hand holding her leg steady, her fingers a passing graze over his face as he kisses her skin.

The stocking gets deposited alongside the other, and he's kissing his way up her leg again. Fingers following, softly grazing. Until he reaches the edge of her bunched up skirt, and he's kissing her on her mouth.

"I'm just going to touch you, okay?" he murmurs against her lips, his hands continuing the path his lips hadn't, under the skirt, under the slip.

He doesn't want her to be nervous, doesn't want to push her too far and have her regret anything. He only wants her to be happy, like she is now, in this moment.

His fingers brush against her undergarments, curling into the waistband. "Okay?"

“Yes,” she nods, frenetic. Yes touching is good, that’s exactly what she wants.

The brush of his fingers against her makes her shiver. A streak of self-consciousness flits through her. She’s worried—what if she’s not what he wants? What if, what if—

His fingers slip under the waistband and it makes her mind blank out again. She’s pushing her fingers through his hair, nodding her head at him.

Yep, yes, yes—

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