Jasper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
keptherwaiting) wrote2020-07-29 04:32 pm
keptherwaiting) wrote2020-07-29 04:32 pm
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.
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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The slow drag of him inside of her threatens her sanity, has her scrabbling at his back for purchase. She turns her head to catch his lips with hers, making him swallow the noises she makes.
He’s perfect. They’re perfect. Everything she waited for, and more.
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Loves her.
He ends up panting against her lips as he starts thrusting harder, a little faster, the pace still steady and deep, his sanity feeling as threatened as her own.
He grips the bed for purchase, his fingers twisting in the sheets, and the headboard bangs against the wall with some particularly well-aimed thrusts.
“Alice,” he whines against her mouth, panting still. “God, darlin’.”
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As needy and raw as she feels.
Every move of his hips sends sparks down her spine, fueling that fire in her belly to a fever pitch. One leg slips from his back to plant against the mattress, giving her something to push up against him with, meeting him thrust for thrust.
Alice feels like she’s suffocating, drowning, in the desire and love and need that surrounds them. She’s so close—so close.
His name is a soft chant that she can’t hold back, her eyes squeezing shut. She wants to keep them open, to see his face when he comes, but it’s all so overwhelming.
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“I want - I want you to finish first,” he gasps against her lips, kissing her again and again. “C’mon, darlin’.”
He tears the bedding just a little as he moves his hand to grip her leg, the one she planted to meet his thrust, and he uses the touch to draw on the emotions between them again, blanketing her with them all the more.
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“—shit,” Alice whimpers, the word a broken sob as her foot slips at his back, her fingers tightening at his shoulder blades. “Jasper, God, I love you—“
The wave of lust and passion and love crests, breaking over her as he draws her pleasure out, finding it, laying it bare. Stiffening in his arms, legs shaking, thighs quaking, she arches up, gasping, moaning, babbling things she doesn’t even hear.
There’s just him. Him in her, her around him, the love and desire heavy between them.
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His mouth moves against hers silently, just her name again and again as his hips stutter against hers, as he then presses flush against her.
He eventually sighs contentedly and laughs a little with joy as he pushes up on shaky limbs just enough to look at her.
“ - I love you.”
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A smile breaks, her hands sliding to cup his cheeks as she stares up at him. Her Jasper.
“I love you, too,” she whispers. Content, with his weight on her; warm and hazy in their shared emotion. Lazy in the aftermath with heavy limbs. “God, I love you. I’m...I am so happy, Jasper.”
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“I’m very, very happy too, my love.”
He leans down to kiss her again and then he shifts so that he’s lying on his side, pulling her into his arms and into a cuddle.
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Alice drags the sheet over them, unnecessary but comfortable, curling into his side and resting her head on his chest.
Perfect.