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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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.

Jasper slides his fingers into her hair, the torturous slow slide of her mouth on him driving him crazy.

Their first night together, a not-so-distant handful of days ago, she’d been so tentative about this. For all of a moment. Her desire and love for him outweighing any of the momentary nervousness she had felt. He’d been floored that first night, and the next day, and the next, and even now, every time -

“Jesus, Alice.”

It‘s like she knows how to touch him just right, as if she‘d been the one with his powers. That she knows how to make him squirm and stutter under her touch as if he was an eager, teenaged boy again.

Edited 2020-08-04 13:52 (UTC)

She’d been so worried about him not enjoying it—she had no idea what she was doing, after all.

But the decision made opened up the paths for her to see them, to walk them and know. A use of her gift she hadn’t considered before.

His utterance pulls her from the reverie, her gold eyes flicking up to take him in, the stretch of his arms to reach her head, the taut lines of his abdomen.

She ghosts her fingers over his stomach, bobbing her head down to take more of him in her mouth—a feat in itself; she’s tiny comparatively, even in this.

Pulling back, Alice twists her palm around him, licking her lips as she watches his face, her eyes dark, thighs pressing together in anticipation. “Which one,” she whispers, her voice a little hoarse. “Which way do you want me?”

His immediate response is to let her have control of their night, to do with him as she pleases.

And then he’s running his finger across her lips, thinking. Her desire and anticipation in his decision. Her wanting him to decide.

“You, on top,” he murmurs, deciding in the next moment. He wants to watch her, her knees braced tight as she moves above him.

Just the thought and his hips buck at it.

“Okay,” she breathes, leaving the space between his legs with one more twist of her hand.

Pressing herself against him, Alice slides her way up his body, dropping kisses here and there; his hip, his ribs, at his heart.

Settling herself on his waist, she leans down, kissing his chin, jaw, finally his lips before rising up on her knees to take him in hand, easing herself onto him, a gasp escaping her as the stretch of him filling her sends every nerve alight.

“Shit,” Alice curses, head dropping forward as she takes him in, her legs trembling at his sides. “God, Jasper...”

The reality of her on top of him is better than the mere thought he’d had. He gives her a moment to adjust to him, and a warmth floods through him as he stares at her. His name falls from her lips, and his chest aches for her. A feeling more deeper and profound than the lust and desire that still courses through him.

Her legs still tremble, still a little unsteady, and yet she moves, just a little, her hand resting on his chest and he stops analyzing his emotions and focuses on the moment.

His hands find her tiny waist and he guides her, lifting her - “Here. Just - There. Right there.” - before he’s thrusting up to meet her as he brings her down again, the angle perfect for her, him having already learned and memorized her body so thoroughly.

She shudders around him, above him, as he finds the perfect angle to thrust into her, as she rises and falls above him.

No, finds is the wrong word. He knows. He knows the perfect way to make her tremble and ache around him, because of him.

Alice shifts her hips, dragging them forward against him, a choker moan escaping her as she bites down on her lip. She wants stay here, on this precipice of love and lust and so close forever.

“Jasper,” she whispers, his name the softest of utterances. “God, you—I—“

She whines another noise before dropping forward to kiss him again.

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