Jasper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
keptherwaiting) wrote2020-06-24 08:15 pm
keptherwaiting) wrote2020-06-24 08:15 pm
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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"That's part of the idea," he whispers in her ear, as he gives into the demands of her body, more than willing, taking pleasure in each gasp and cry he pulls from her, kissing away the loudest moans.
Trying not to let his emotions affect her, to not heighten what's only natural, is difficult when all he wants is to want her. Every nerve alight with want.
But more than, he wants this now to be only about her.
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Her dress is on the floor, tossed over her stockings along with her underwear. Her slip, still on, is askew, rumpled and bunched around her hips. Jasper at the foot of the bed, his shirt half unbuttoned but still dressed.
She feels like her bones have been replaced with sand. In the best possible way. Her knees still tremble as she finally manages to get herself into a sitting position.
If she had the strength, she might tackle him and pin him to the mattress. As it is, she smiles at him, her lips pressing together, tugging on the edge of his shirt to bring him up to her again, to kiss him.
That was enlightening. She’s a little speechless.
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He knows he's good at this. Hard not to be when he can read every emotion to guide him. Her speechlessness is making him feel all sorts of things, however.
Much like her own feelings, all over the place, all of them good.
He pulls back from the kiss to look at her, to trace her lips with the tips of his fingers, to gaze into her eyes.
She's so -
"Beautiful."
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Beautiful.
It’s different, with him. Others have commented on her beauty—she’s a vampire, of course she is beautiful. But so is he and he still calls her that. And reverently, like he truly means it. And she’s pretty sure he does.
Alice swallows hard, pressing kisses to his fingertips, her own fingers dancing up and down his arm. “I—“
She doesn’t know what she wants to say. She laughs a little, shaking her head. “You’re amazing.”
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He truly means it when he says she's beautiful. Vampires are beautiful, breathtakingly so, and Alice is unrivaled in that her personality only added to her enhanced beauty.
He continues to look at her, wondering how - why - what.
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Their joy feeding into, off of each other. It’s heaven.
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He feels silly for saying it again, however true the statement.
"You're beautiful, sexy, radiant," he says as she peppers him with kisses, savoring each she willingly graces him with.
"I don't know how you woke up thinking of me, or why you did, or what you even see, but I'm lucky."
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She pulls back and takes his hand in hers, drawing her fingers up and down the palm again. "We already established these lovely hands of yours, but I think it bears repeating with recent activities."
Her fingers glide up his arm and to his chest, where she finishes unbuttoning his shirt, half-undone for her already. Inching closer, she presses her lips against the scars she reveals, ones on his shoulders, arms, collarbone. A criss-cross network of bites from a life before her, ones she knows scare other vampires--she's seen it, in flashes of him, and when she lived in New Orleans for a time. The way other vampires react to a war-torn soldier.
But that's not Alice. She kisses the edge of one, lingering close to kiss the next one. They're him, a part of him, and she loves every single bit of him. "You're strong," she whispers against his skin. "Smart, fast--"
Now she situates herself into his lap, her slip bunching around her hips as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, kissing up his neck. "--beautiful, sexy, radiant," quoting him back at himself. "Trusting, empathetic. Good, even if you don't want to believe it sometimes. I'm the lucky one, Jasper."
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He swallows hard when she settles in his fully in his lap, and ducks his head to kiss her shoulder.
"You're kind," he murmurs back to her. "Strong, smart. Funny, and quick. Sincere. You're already bringing out the best in me."
His hand pushes at her slip, wanting to see her, all of her, finally. He pulls the little fabric left off, over her head, and it joins the rest of her garments on the floor.
" - Maybe a little of the worst right now too," he adds with a smirk.
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Her fingers find scars at his sides, tracing them as she presses herself into him, kissing him again. She moans softly into the kiss, deepening it as she comes to cup his face, holding him in place.
Her hands won't stay still. They find another scar to trace, slide down his side, touching skin as much as she can before going for his belt, thinking it highly unfair he's still wearing pants.
"It's not fair you're wearing pants," she mumbles into his mouth.
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"We should stop."
He does not sound like a man who wants to stop. He sounds like a man wanting to give her whatever she wants.
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"I don't think we should."
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She certainly wasted no time with the belt.
Has he mentioned how sexy he thinks she is?
"Well, I did say, whatever you want."
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Jasper may have created a monster.