LexieCullen and Ms. Kathy

LexieCullen and Ms. Kathy

 

Sweet Dreams

photocredit: www.daddysbadboys.com

I throw down my pen just as I hear my teaching assistant call, “Time!” on my exam.  Relief fills my tense body, and I relax into the back of my chair.  Physics can suck it; I rocked that test.  I can tell my extra studying paid off as I see my fellow classmates’ sour expressions as we walk our little blue books to the front of the class, and I’m infinitely grateful I had the good sense not to smoke last night.  I smile at the TA, and her cheeks pink up under my attention.  For emphasis, I give her an extra wink and run my hand through my shaggy blond hair.  It’s about time I get a haircut, actually.  Just another thing I’ll finally have time for this coming week.  Spring break, here I come.

I can hear his low cursing before I enter my apartment.  The front door is cracked open slightly, allowing the obnoxious strains of the Super Mario Bros theme to trail into the hallway.  I’m greeted by one of my favorite sights—my roommate, my best friend, my everything: Edward.  He sits, perched on the edge of our couch, a joint in one hand and a Nintendo controller in the other. He wears nothing but a pair of my basketball shorts, the white and blue ones I couldn’t find this morning.

I slump onto the couch next to him and accept his distracted, “Hey,” as an opportunity to take the joint from his fingers and bring it to my lips.  The sweet smoke travels through my body, and I can feel exhaustion seeping into every muscle.  My eyes drift close, and my lips curl into a contented grin.

In the hazy corners of my mind, I hear him put down the controller and the television shut off.  His hands tug at the hem of my t-shirt, pushing it up my stomach and over my head.  I shift slightly to help him out, relishing the feel of his warm fingers against my skin.  My shirt tossed aside, he curls into me and away from me—my little spoon.  I’m so exhausted, I melt into his body and am nearly gone as I hear him whisper a low, “Sweet dreams.”

Standing Strong

 

photocredit: corbinfisher.com

We sit on the dock of the lake together, our feet swinging, toes skimming the water. We aren't holding hands, not showing any outward signs of affection, but I can feel the heat from his body so close to mine.

Neither of us has shirts on, the hot summer day baking our skin. I've taken a few appreciative glances at Jasper throughout the day, and I can only hope I've hidden them enough from our families.  No one here knows we are anything beyond roommates, aside from Emmett.  No one here knows he is my forever.

Emmett brings us each a bottle of beer, and the three of us sit, knees touching, in the quiet of the spot our families have gathered at together each summer for years.

Tents shield us from the elements while we sleep, the “grown-ups” preferring the privacy of their RVs.  Emmett, ever the best friend, wouldn't dare breathe a word of our linked hands at night.

It's his father's voice that I hear first, and slowly, my ears and brain check in to the conversation happening behind us. I realize it's not really so much a conversation as it is an argument. Jasper's dad is shouting at mine about us. He knows. He knows, and he's pissed.

When I hear the epithets being slung around, my body tenses and I stand. I'm ready for a fight I didn't know I'd ever have. I've already formed a million reasons to give him about why our love isn't wrong, bad, or immoral.

Just as I'm about to walk over and put myself in the middle of the argument, I feel Jasper surround me.

“Let it go,” he whispers. “He's a bitter, angry old man.”

His arms slip from my shoulders, his hand linking with mine, and he pulls me to the tent. Silently, we pack our belongings, and before I'm even really aware of it, we're in his truck and leaving the campsite that holds so many memories. It makes me burn inside to think they've all been washed away by this one afternoon.

Kisses

 

Edward decides he wants to throw a party at our apartment.  I’m not feeling in the mood to party—and I’m really not feeling in the mood to share him—but I say okay anyway.  It puts a smile on his face, and his green eyes light up, so I can’t even regret it.  I love making him happy.

That night, our apartment fills with people and smoke and beer and loud, crappy music.  I’m still sullen, but I can’t figure out why.  I bring a beer to my lips and glance around the packed room.  It’s nearly too dark to make out anyone’s features, but I’d recognized that tousled hair and half smile anywhere.  He’s across the room, standing with a group of people I don’t know.  He looks so happy, and I hate that he shares my favorite coy smile with these strangers.  When I see a hand dart out and squeeze his bicep lightly, I loose my cool.

I head over to his corner of the room and move so that I’m just behind him, hovering.  “Come with me.  Now.”

It’s not a question, and he knows to obey me.  He apologizes to his friends with a small shrug and follows me down the hall to our bedroom.  I slam the door behind us, locking it behind my back, and he looks confused, distraught.

“What the hell, Jasper?”

My shirt is gone before he finishes asking his question, and I can see him gulp from where I stand.  I stalk towards him until the backs of his thighs hit our mattress.

“I’m supposed to be hosting,” he whispers, his voice suddenly hoarse with desire.  I see his eyes roam over my bare chest, and I push him down onto the bed, climbing over him.

I pull at his hair and dive straight towards his neck, and he moans loudly.  I remove my mouth briefly to help him take off his shirt before reattaching myself to his soft skin.  My tongue explores, lapping at the salty taste of his sweat, as my lips suck harder.  His mouth opens in a silent plea, and he gives in, the party entirely forgotten.

Embrace

 

I'm that guy that can't sleep without a blanket. You know, even when it's brutally hot outside, and clothes become unnecessary, it has to be there.

Jasper and I are in the middle of the most idiotic argument over stupid, little things. Still, the thought makes me smile just a little. I never would have imagined we'd have bullshit like this to fight over all these years later. So when I leave the bedroom in a huff, I grab my blanket and make my way to the couch.

Fine with me, I won't have to deal with him snoring. I'll actually get a good night of sleep for once, I tell myself.

Of course, I don't.

I miss him. My body knows he's not there, not behind or around me, his skin against mine. I fucking miss the snoring, too, I realize as I turn over. Sometime after two in the morning, my eyes closed for hours, my brain finally shuts down and allows me to sleep.

The heat from his body above mine is the first thing I register after what feels like way too little time asleep.  I don't care, though; I'd go without sleep forever to immerse myself in this feeling.

His arm hooks under mine, and the blanket between us is quickly thrown off somewhere. Jasper is loving me, and the smile on my face grows to match his. We don't need to apologize or confess or hold grudges – we've been through too much shit together to hold these petty moments against each other.

There's just us, just the lack of heat from the sun, and I can barely make out the outline of his body in the soft not-quite-morning light. My hands touch and know, his lips kiss, teeth bite, and tongue laps at my skin. I'm impatient, I need and want more. I need our connection to be whole again, unbroken, perfect.

We've learned to keep lube everywhere, so I'm not surprised when I feel his slick fingers against me and then inside me, pushing, pulling, preparing. I reach down and trace up his thigh to his cock, and stroke. Sliding down on the couch, I widen my legs and welcome his body against mine.