keptherwaiting | 1948, Philadelphia

1948, Philadelphia

Waiting for Alice to finish getting ready, Jasper is far more excited and confident than nervous for their date this time.

She’d made him shower first, not wanting him to put on his fancy clothes without one, and then she’d disappeared into the bathroom with more than one bag in her arms after he’d finished. His suit had been left on the bed, which he’d changed into quickly - a perfect fit, because she knows him so perfectly and so finely crafted too - and then he’d been left to more or less think about their upcoming night.

He feels good, more sure of himself than he has been in awhile, and vows to make up for the little stumbles earlier by making sure Alice has a great time tonight.

He’s sure Alice will look beautiful, she always does, and he knows he looks great, because Alice picked out the suit especially for him. He wonders where they’ll go to dance; Alice has said she knew of a place. And it’s still early enough, a Friday, and even the quietest of weeknights in Philly have seen plenty of activity.

He’s just thinking of fetching another bouquet of flowers for her - the other already artfully displayed on a table - when the door to the bathroom finally creaks open.

He turns and sucks in an appropriately sharp breath at the sight of her.

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It’s not fair—his torturous indecision makes half-firmed visions float before her, there and gone so quickly; glimpses of what could happen.

She whines, twisting under him, her hands reaching for him, fingers gliding over his hair, face, lips.

“Jasper,” Alice whispers, his name a needy thing, “don’t tease.”

“Aw, darlin’, I don’t mean to tease you.”

But the way in which he grins at her as his teeth close around her waistband says otherwise. He tugs and the fabric falls smoothly away.

He sits back, spreading her legs wide for him with his hands on her knees directing a little shiver of anticipation through her.

“I want you too much. Makes it hard to decide on the how.”

“That’s worse,” Alice sighs, her legs falling wider to accommodate his shoulder span.

But the flow of anticipation from him works—her knees tremble and she swallows thickly, her hands gripping the sheets under her.

She sets her foot on his shoulder, the feel of his shirt under her skin is almost too much, just that, he’s poured so much need and want into her, mixing with her own.

“Sorry,” he says with a laugh and an apologetic kiss to her ankle. “I don’t mean to drive you crazy. But, you see what you do to me.”

He follows the kiss with another on her calf and then higher still at her knee before he slide her leg over his shoulder as he settles between her legs again. He nips at her inner thigh, closer than to where he so desperately wants to be.

And he pauses, a thoughtful look cutting across his face.

“Did you ever see any of this, before?”

What.

“I—“ Alice struggles to prop herself on her elbows, looking down at him where he sits between her legs.

It takes her a moment to figure out what he asked—her brain sluggish.

“No, not really, not until the decision was made... the first night, when you—“ she gestures vaguely at him and his positioning and his plans, “—and then the other times. But it’s not always a definite.

“You make choices but change your mind,” Alice laughs softly. “It makes it hard to pin down. I don’t always wanna know what’s going to happen either. I know less the faster it goes, more the slower. They’re easier to ignore here though, when feelings are more important than decisions.”

“Oh.”

He turns his head, kissing her inner thigh again, the thoughtfulness of his expression carrying through to his lips that trace along her skin.

And then he’s between her legs, holding her open for him to lap at her gently, to taste her like he’s been wanting to since the club.

She wants to press, ask him to ask his questions; she can see them forming below the thoughtful expression but—

Alice gasps, year falling back, her fingers tightening in the sheets. She wobbles on her elbows, unsteady as desire floods her again (though it never went away, just a small ebb like a wave receding back into the ocean).

“Christ,” she swears, watching him, her lip tugged between her teeth. “Jasper—“

He moans happily around her. He loves doing this to her, getting her to come undone with his mouth and his fingers. Loves to hear her gasp his name, the tremble of the leg slung over his shoulder that pulls him closer even as she angles her hips toward his mouth, insistent.

She doesn’t hold herself back, just falls into the moment, letting herself get swept away in the feelings, and he loves it.

And yet, he does have questions.

He pulls back, replacing his mouth with his fingers for a moment as he looks up at her.

“But - You saw me? Just not us being like this?” he asks, the question making its way known through the haze of lust(love) and want.

Her head drops forward, chin on her chest as she tries to focus on him and his question and not his fingers inside of her.

It’s a hard thing to do, when her body reacts so happily to him.

“Uh—“ Alice blinks rapidly, trying her hardest to answer him. Her hips rock forward onto his fingers and she bites back a moan. “I mean, I saw...flashes? I guess. I mostly saw moments. The diner—shit—us traveling, kissing...they were inevitable but just glimpses. Not the full pictures.”

Jasper hums thoughtfully, her last statement awakening another thought, another long line of questions. She’s said as much before but they haven’t really talked much about her visions of him.

Not that now is really the time for talking, he realizes when he looks her over again, focusing on him and his questions even as she loses herself to the pleasure.
“- You know what? We’ll talk later.” He offers an apologetic grin and he curls his fingers just so that he knows will have her toes curling.

“ - Or not.” He doesn’t want her to be distracted with a vision right now, after all. “Whenever. Maybe never.”

“We can talk,” Alice pleads, her toes curling, her eyes squeezing shut. “We can y’all all you want, after this, please—“

Breathing is harder now, however unnecessary it is when she’s not talking. Her finger curl back into the sheets, and she lets her body fall back onto the mattress, no longer trying to support herself on shaky arms.

He pulls such beautiful sensations from her—like the burn low in her stomach, the tingle in her limbs, the pulse that makes her shake and moan. He makes her feel such wonderful things.

Like—“God,” Alice grits out, her hips chasing his fingers and the curl of them inside. Biting her lip, caging the words that want to follow inside. “Jasper—“

“Yeah, yes, ‘course,” he murmurs, nipping at her thigh again as he curls and moves his fingers in her.

And then his mouth is back on her once more, forgetting all about the questions and any thoughts of talking, as he loses himself to her pleasure.

It doesn’t take much more—not with how he fills her with his own desire, his own want, his own need. It sends her nerves into overdrive, setting them alight like candles and flame and wonder.

His name is a gasp, soft, her hand moving to his head, scratching at his scalp, tugging at his hair, a whine falling from her lips as she breaks, above, around him.

Jasper loves it. The way she falls apart on his tongue. He loves her hands in his hair, the tiny whine that escapes her. The way she tastes.

He coaxes as much as he can out of her before he’s kissing his way up her body.

“Hello, beautiful,” he murmurs, pushing her hair back from her face as he settles beside her, his head joining hers on the pillow.

Alice gives him a soft smile, her fingers covering her lips for a moment before she rolls into him, kissing him, tasting herself on his lips, the thrill of that burning low inside of her even after the impressive explosion moments before.

"Hey," she breathes, pulling back, her fingers tracing a scar at his neck. A laugh escapes her, and she shakes her head, hair mussing across the pillow beneath her. "You're amazing."

Jasper laughs, one that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle and the newly earned gold sparkle with delight.

“You’re amazing,” he says as traces her lips with his fingers, and the smile there. And then his words are a little softer: “You’re very - expressive? You don’t hold back. I love it. I love doing that to you. Making you feel good, and better than.”

Alice kisses his fingertips, catching one between her teeth, gently, as she ponders his words. Then, letting the digit drop, she smiles softly again.

"I'm glad...I'm glad you like it--it'd be hard to remove that part of me if you didn't," she laughs lightly. "It's a big chunk of me."

The feeling--she feels so much, experiences so much, the highs and lows of life. It's what makes her her.

Sidling close, Alice presses her lips against his chin, throat, the line of his collarbone. "How come," she murmurs, against his skin, "I always end up naked and you're still fully clothed?"

“Hmm. Strategic planning.”

He strokes his fingers down her side, following her curves.

“And I am particularly focused on my goal.”

Which is getting Alice naked and getting his mouth on her as quickly as possible.

He drags her mouth to his in another kiss, a slow, sweet slide of his lips against hers.

“I’d never want you to change, you know, how you are,” he murmurs against her lips, in response to her earlier words. “Not even a little part.”

Her response is to kiss him again, fevered, her foot sliding up his clothed leg. Needy, wanting. Always.

Alice rolls them, so she's sitting on his hips, her fingers tugging at his undershirt, pulling it off of him so she can kiss the scars at his chest, working her way down, kissing his ribs, stomach, the cut of his hip.

Unclasping his belt, Alice looks back up at him, her golden eyes sparkling. "I don't want you to change who you are either." Her voice, soft: "I just want to make you happy. As happy as you've made me--happier. I hope I can do the job."

She hesitates, wanting to continue working on his belt, wanting to climb back up his body and kiss him again. Worrying at her lip, she chooses the latter, sliding back up so she can cup his face and kiss him, sweetly, then harder, then deeper. She loves him, so much.

Jasper pulls back from the kiss to cup her face in his hands, her hesitancy having given him pause.

“You make me very happy,” he promises her. “But I don’t want you to feel responsible for it.” He smiles softly at her. “It’s not a job, darlin’.”

Alice grips his right wrist, turning her head to press a kiss against his palm, then the tips of his fingers. "Okay."

She sits back up, her knees squeezing his sides as she pulls his hand up to her mouth again, sliding her lips over his index finger, her tongue swirling around the tip, teeth grazing over the pad.

“Just okay?”

He lies back on the bed, watching as she plays with his finger, living for the press of her knees at his sides. His desire stirring for her again.

As if it had ever gone.

He swallows hard, licking his lips, a groan building.

“Alice - “

Her grin, impish, grows wide before she takes his finger fully in her mouth, sucking lightly.

With a pop, Alice let’s his finger fall from her lips, her hand guiding his to lay against his chest.

Scooting down the length of his body, she returns to his belt, pulling the leather out of the loops and tossing it aside.

Her bottom lip catches between her teeth as her hand glides over the front of his pants, squeezing slightly as she watches him, his reaction.

“Now who’s teasing,” he gasps out, a sharp breathe expelled at the squeeze of her hand. His hips lift toward her, his body insistent. Him, insistent.

He reaches for her. He wants to pull her in for another kiss. Wants to tear the pants away for himself and have her in his lap, riding him, hard and fast. Wants her mouth on him, sweet and torturous. Wants her on the bed beneath him, a slow and sensual -

“ - Fuck.”

She’d been right about his ever changing mind. Especially when it comes to her and him and this.

A moan catches in her throat at the visions spinning webs in front of her, flashes of each moment he wants.

She wants.

Smoothing her hand over the front of his pants, she reaches the buttons, flicking them open, sinking her fingers beneath the fabric to tug them down, her mouth at each patch of skin exposed until—

Pushing his pants down his legs, yanking them off and behind her somewhere, Alice settles between his thighs. Taking him in her hand, fingers gentle as she strokes, Alice slides her mouth over him, finally, but torturously slow, groaning around him.

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