Paper Faces - 36. Recount

"Wait. You knew him in high school?" Peter interrupts.

"No." My annoyance is clear in the tightness of my voice. Now that I'm talking, I want to keep going. I want to talk and talk and let my words lead me through this dense, impenetrable forest to some higher plane of understanding.

Peter knows me. He sits back, sipping his coffee amid the soft click of laptop keyboards all around us as I try to make him comprehend something I'm not close to understanding myself.

"So this was… what? His revenge?" Peter asks when I wind down.

"I don't know."

Paper Faces - 35. Tell

A shower erases only so much, but it leaves me feeling more human. I mix a Bloody Mary and lounge on my couch.

The pounding in my head is somewhat dulled when I dial Peter's number. A brief exchange of greetings and then I say, "Hey, sorry I ditched you last night. I…"

I trail off, unwilling to continue.

He laughs. "Yeah, we know. Charlotte saw you going upstairs."

I have no answer. The memories of upstairs are too fresh, too raw to explore.

"Cullen? What were you thinking, Jazz?"

"You know him?"

"You don't?"

"No… I guess I don't."

Happy Birthday, OnTheTurningAway!

A/N: My dearest OnTheTurningAway, you have been a fantastic friend and reviewer. I am thrilled to be able to give you a tiny gift for your birthday, and I hope you enjoy these boys half as much as I enjoy knowing you and hearing your thoughts. You are awesome - I wish you the happiest of birthdays (and as much boysmut as you can handle ;))!

Much love and many hugs,

SorceressCirce

Thanks to naelany for providing the one- word prompts and pre-reading.

I don't own the Twilight characters, but these two boys sure do own me.

Frantic

My fingers twitch, aching to reach across the flickering campfire for the Droid stuffed into the bottom of my backpack.

I want it. Need it.

Paper Faces - 34. Linger

The scent of Edward permeates my car. It's everywhere. My clothes, my hair, my fingertips. I can't escape him.

Worse, I don't really want to.

The twenty-minute drive across town has never seemed so long. Tangible memories of last night torment me, bringing the feel of his lips, the firm grip of his fingers on my thighs, the way he filled me as no one else has.

My anger is fitful, flaring and fleeting, and I wonder why I can't hold onto it. I have never been so dismissed… disregarded. Disrespected.

So why do I feel more hurt than indignation?

Paper Faces - 33. Chocolate

Dressed in last night's costume, I reread the note. The slash of the angular, precise letters grates on me. I crumple the card and drop it, not caring where it lands.

Downstairs, a voice calls, "Good morning."

I consider walking out the door, but a masochistic curiosity turns my feet toward the sound.

Warm brown eyes set into a heart-shaped face glance at me with professional detachment. It is the woman he whispered to last night, and with a sick certainty, I know her function.

"Can I get you anything?" she asks.

"No, I think I have everything I need."

Paper Faces - 32. Terse

I snatch the envelope up, feeling thick, textured paper. I gape at the Mr. Hale written in a neat hand.

"Pompous ass," I mutter under my breath, a feeling I'm sure I don't like settling in my chest.

An impatient ripping reveals a plain white card. I flick it open with my thumb and find a short message that makes my jaw clench.

I trust you slept well. My assistant Bella is downstairs waiting for you. She will provide you with anything you need.

Please forget last night. It was a mistake I don't intend to make again.

Edward Cullen

Paper Faces - 31. Envelope

I've had ill-conceived, illicit encounters before and walked away without looking back, but there's something different here.

He is something different.

I can't decide if it's only my guilt or something more that tells me so.

I push away the extravagant covers and swing my feet to the floor, idly noting that the fireplace is cold – like the rest of the room.

Like me.

I look around on the floor for my clothes, but they are not there. I find them folded neatly, stacked in an armchair on the other side of the nightstand.

An envelope is balanced on top.

Paper Faces - 30. Brick

The certainty that I am alone settles into my skin before I even open my eyes. I can feel the difference, the absence. I sigh, rolling onto my back and pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes in a vain attempt to hold onto the vitality of last night.

My arms drop to my sides. I lie motionless, listless, watching dust motes drift on air currents, flashing gold in the morning light through the open curtains.

I had half-known he would leave even though I am sure this is his bed.

My heart is heavy, my head pounding.

Paper Faces - 29. Crackle

I am relaxed, the irresistible aftermath of an unparalleled orgasm pulling me under despite the misapprehensions I know are buried in my mind. They will not see the light of day until a new dawn washes away hangover and afterglow alike.

I begin to nod off and feel the bed shift, weight leaving it. Light footsteps pad across carpet, barely audible. There is a clicking and a whoosh of flame; I idly place the noises of a fireplace.

A cool breeze, and then a thin layer of warmth settles over me, the mattress depresses again, and I know no more.

Paper Faces - 28. Glow

He rolls to my side with a lazy smile, and I want to freeze time – to keep that expression on his face.

But his arm moves up, brushing sweat from his forehead before resting on his pillow, and he licks his lips.

My head is swimming, alcohol and exertion and sheer confusion slowing my reactions. I feel my chest burn and wonder if that last tequila was a good idea.

His eyes are impenetrable when he rolls to his side, propping on his elbow. He kisses me once and whispers, "Go to sleep."

The words are brusque, the tone kind.

Paper Faces - 27. Spike

Our bodies are slick, perspiration providing lubrication as our chests press together. He kisses me hard, sucking wildly on my tongue as his teeth sting.

My cock is throbbing, the compression of our skin simply not enough. As I reach between us, Edward thrusts harder. Deeper. My hoarse voice murmurs, "Fuck…"

The movement of my hand is what I need, familiarity mixing with wholly foreign stimulation to arch my spine and make my heels dig into the mattress as my hips rise to meet his.

Euphoria spills over my chest as teeth mark my shoulder.

And then all is still.

Paper Faces - 26. Gas

Disoriented, I find myself on my back, my knees near my head with my ankles on his shoulders as Edward thrusts smoothly into me. My eyes flutter, an indistinct noise of need rolling from my lips.

To feel him is to discover nirvana.

Sweat beads on his forehead; I taste the saltiness as my lips roam his face hungrily. Breath mingles and coalesces, vapor that settles over us, wrapping us into one being.

It is a moment of serenity and chaos, disparate parts making a unified whole, bringing both joy and despair.

I know nothing in that moment.

Save him.

Paper Faces - 25. Delight

My eyes are closed, my panting breath passing parched lips as I groan. His hand in my hair tugs harder, snapping my chin up as light blooms behind my eyelids.

His hips are practiced, pressure and rhythm and perfection driving into me again and again. He stretches me, length and breadth pushing to my limit. Breathlessness builds in my gut, absence filling my lungs until I am dizzy, spiraling upward into blissful darkness.

My world is heat and slick heaven. A flick of a wrist. A grunting moan.

Tension building in my thighs as a velvet voice caresses my name.

Paper Faces - 24. Evanescent

Embroidery presses into my knees. My hands grasp his headboard, struggling to hold myself upright as his lips explore my body. I hadn't expected this – tenderness mixed with punishment, soft caresses and reproachful slaps.

Intoxicating.

"How do you know I'm not just living out a high school fantasy of fucking the quarterback?" he mutters, biting the tip of my shoulder.

"I don't," I whisper, my eyes finding his. It is the truth and a lie, for I see the flicker in his eyes.

Hope.

Then it's gone.

His hands flatten against my chest, glide over my abdomen. My lips part.

Paper Faces - 23. Damask

Rough hands slow as we shift onto the bed. Thick embroidered fabric meets my bare skin, soft and silken and completely wrong for him. I am surrounded by lush gold, cold and impersonal.

I wonder just how much in this room speaks to him.

A heavy weight, nude flesh and robust muscle, settles over me, and I don't care.

I don't care that he's lonely. That I am. That he despises me. That this may be the worst decision I've ever made.

He makes me want to live, to feel.

His hips rock, his cock against mine, and I moan.

Paper Faces - 22. Fancy

Our lips move sensually, pressure and absence, parting with the brushing of tongues. We move as one toward the four-poster bed dominating the center of the room.

My back meets a post, and we stop, our energy transferred to frenzied hands working to undress each other. His costume is authentic, an elaborate concoction of laces and toggles that frustrates me at every turn.

I bite his lip with a growl and look down, blessing the man who invented zippers.

He succeeds before I do, but I am the one rewarded as a strong hand wraps around me, squeezing and stroking.

Paper Faces - 21. Sulfur

He is reserved as he leads me up the stairs and down the hall. I feel the tension in his fingertips, the pressure against the small of my back, and I know his control is tenuous.

I wonder what it would take to leave it in shambles like cast off clothing on the floor.

He steps ahead, pushes through a doorway. A rough yank on my wrist pulls me inside; insistent hands press me against the wall.

His smile is so devilish that I smell sulfur and then taste only him.

He is whiskey and chocolate spiced with bad decision.

Paper Faces - 20. Tulip

My body is singing, my pulse drumming with the music as I look around Edward's apartment with new eyes. My mind rebels against the thought of one person owning all of this as my eyes settle on a vase of fresh tulips at the end of the bar.

I seek him out automatically and find him across the room, his head bent low as he whispers to a woman. She cuts her eyes to me and back to him smoothly.

He nods toward Garrett; she nods to him.

His hand is hot on my back when he returns. "Let's go."

Paper Faces - 19. Strap

The ribbon binding the mask to my face snaps with a flick of Edward's wrist. My ear stings, capturing my attention before I realize he is standing right there.

His breath is hot against my cheek, whiskey and promise. His eyes are fixed, locked onto mine, and I wonder what he sees. His eyes reveal confusion and purpose. Resolve.

I marvel at the disappointment that crushes something so very close to my heart.

I don't even know him.

But I want to.

There is no warning. Warm lips claim mine, hard and needy like the want pressed against my hip.

Paper Faces - 18. Block

"I don't understand."

"Yes," he says calmly, "you do. Don't pretend."

He turns his back, straightens his mask over his cheeks, and moves toward the glass door.

I step in front of him. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"My apartment." The infuriating control is still there. He brushes me aside, but when he takes his next step, I am there. He bumps into my chest, and his eyes flash.

I relish his anger.

"I'm finished with you," he growls. "Let me get on with my life."

"I don't think you can," I answer, bravado bolstering my words.

Paper Faces - 17. Stagger

"Tell me why." My voice is no longer baffled but beseeching.

He studies me far too long, his eyes feasting. "It wasn't some high school crush," he says simply.

I wonder if I will ever understand him.

A crooked grin says he sees through me, though, and he motions toward the door. "Look at Garrett," he murmurs. "Really look."

I see chin-length sandy blond hair, a slender build. I know his blue eyes are gorgeous. I say so.

"He's a poor imitation," Edward says gruffly. "They all are."

I turn to face him and find his eyes boring into mine.

Paper Faces - 16. Clover

The abrupt change baffles me, and I wish for the venom once more. For some impenetrable reason, I don't want to leave.

A new level of control courses through his veins, visible in the angle of his chin and the dispassion in his eyes.

"Jasper…" His voice betrays him, caressing my name. He stops abruptly. "Please just…leave. I'm not that lost kid anymore. Seeing you here, in my apartment…" His jaw clenches, and my eyes widen.

"Yours?" I peer back through the glass door at vaulted ceilings, obvious wealth.

"I'm doing well," he answers wryly.

His tone makes me smile.

Paper Faces - 15. Bear

My ramblings help neutralize the acid in his tone. I struggle to understand why a callous, rude encounter with a friend's older brother would leave him so broken that fifteen years later he is still lashing out.

He keeps me at a distance, trying to hide the power that I have over him even now.

The oppressive air is replaced with my own guilt, weighing on my shoulders until my knees buckle.

I hear the accusations, even those he doesn't voice, and I have no choice but to agree.

A hand covers his eyes. The fight leaves him. "Just go."

Paper Faces - 14. Innocuous

"I was nineteen," I finally say, though I don't know why. I need some way to lessen the blame, curb the hate I see in his eyes, but I know they are the wrong words.

I see him so clearly now, just a boy. Fourteen, maybe fifteen.

Each time I delve into my memory, I grapple another monster venturing from the bottomless depths. I speak without awareness, narrating my journey.

Hoping he'll understand.

Home from college, newly out. Riding a high of freedom and pride and possibility.

His voice is a low, cutting rasp. "That's why I thought you'd understand."

Paper Faces - 13. Apex

I swallow bile as he describes an ambush – homophobic football players who'd been my teammates only the year before waiting for him in the school parking lot. I cringe when he says he almost preferred their fists to the words because they made him doubt everything he knew about himself.

Worse, they made him ashamed.

Made him wonder if he wanted to live.

I reach out to him, needing to stop the flow of words, needing to save that scared little boy, but there's nothing I can do.

"Don't," he snarls. "You were the reason."

I drop my hand, helpless.

Paper Faces - 12. Break

Never in my life have I flinched and shied from words. Now I feel their keen sting.

His cool reserve cracks, his voice a harsh whip that mercilessly lashes out, recounting a life I couldn't imagine enduring.

My heart breaks, anger crumbling into pity. Pity fuels his rage.

An uncontrollable erection. Friends teasing. Hiding but not denying. Watching from afar.

Hero worship. Rejection. Humiliation. Abject disappointment.

A downward spiral into darkness.

A deluge of words, venom and nectar in one, and as it scours my skin, I finally see.

He risked it all on faith.

Shattered when it snapped back.

Paper Faces - 11. Obtuse

"Oh, god," spills from my lips. He was there, in my house. He tried to speak, and I brushed him away, another brainless gnat buzzing around Rosalie.

Only he wasn't.

"I remember." He hears the inflection, draws himself to his full height. "But why?" I say. I'm trapped, penned by the same syllables. The only escape lies behind those cold eyes.

Scorn answers me. "You were perfect." The sneer transforms the word, a curse delivered as praise. "Beautiful. Friendly to everyone."

"But not you," I finish for him, remembering my annoyance.

My frustration circles and resurfaces. "Why now, damn it?"

Paper Faces - 10. Silence

I offer no answer. He offers nothing at all.

I wonder why he stands there, facing a man he despises, but it is the same reason I stand here with only a thin metal railing between me and a nine story drop.

He's waiting.

Desperately, I search my past.

Rosalie's friends crowded around the pool. Bright green eyes, a shy smile. Impatience. Escape. Following footsteps. "Did you need something?"

A blushing, embarrassed retreat.

My chest constricts, pounding in my head struggling to drown out the memories. It meant nothing at the time. I had forgotten.

But now I see it.

Paper Faces - 9. Glass

Countless questions swirl in my mind, but only one matters.

"Why?"

It hangs in the air, thin and brittle like glass. His hate – his fury – burns me where I stand. I need the reason.

He says nothing.

"I remember…" I trail off, unwilling to say I remember my little sister's gossip. "You were younger. Rosalie's age."

Bitterness twists his mouth as something – disappointment, perhaps – flashes in his eyes.

Even his disgusted mutter is a caress, beckoning me toward some unknown somewhere. Why do I want to answer the call?

"Yes, I could always count on the kindness of the Hales."

Paper Faces - 8. Light

Darkness wraps around him like a cloak, making angular cheekbones cast deep shadows. I imagine him in the light, see his face round with youth and inexperience. My mind replaces the steel in his eyes with curiosity.

I have it.

"Edward?" I see the slight twitch of his Adam's apple as he fights not to swallow. It is the only tell. "Edward Cullen."

He hears the finality in my voice but does not speak.

Memories cascade in waves with my sister's voice. The boy who came out. Beaten up. Tormented.

"I never knew you," I murmur.

"You made that clear."

Paper Faces - 7. Change

A silent moment stretches, looming ominously. I feel his fingers twitch, sense the shift in his mood as the fight leaves him.

Muscles slacken, his hand falls, and he steps back, but I can still sense him, mere feet away. "Who are you?" I whisper. The hush fights back, swallowing my words greedily so my voice is a hollow echo of itself.

"Nobody," he answers.

Inch by inch, I turn and lean against the railing, my hands grasping the bar beside my hips. I study him, my head tilting as I begin to piece together planes and curves into memories.

Paper Faces - 6. Salacious

Solid weight presses into my back as a hand snakes around my hip, cupping my cock. I can smell him, impossibility mixed with musk and citrus, and my mind recoils from the violation even as my body betrays me, seeking his warmth.

I wonder again what about him has me so transfixed, but the thought flees as I hear his gruff voice for only the second time. "Still staring like I'm some freak? Bad form, Hale, especially considering that you're just like me."

The sneer is still there in his voice, but now I hear ancient hurt hiding behind it.

Paper Faces - 5. Eve

I return to the balcony, my haven, escaping the stifling laughter and music, the hideous soundtrack of my hell. My fingers itch to remove my mask, but they are frozen, grasping the railing as I stare down.

The buildings and traffic swim, a blurring of light and movement and sound that nearly obscures the click of the door closing behind me.

I am instantly tense, my spine fused with indignation and fear, and I know it's him.

The air is oppressive with expectation and possibility weighted down with animosity.

I just wish I knew why.

Deliberate, heavy footsteps draw closer.

Paper Faces - 4. Stealth

My eyes never settle on him, but I've not missed a single lick of his lips or brush of his fingertips against bare skin. I'm obsessed, fixated on this enigma who knows my name and hates me to the core.

I don't know him. I don't.

My jaw clenches in frustration as I order another drink, my attention focused on him through the mirror above the bar as if the simple piece of silvered glass holds the answers to my existence.

His partner, I know. As Garrett's lips tease his neck, I feel the burn of tequila in my chest.

Paper Faces - 3. Rancor

"Hey." He spins as if my hand on his shoulder burns him. All I can see through his mask are eyes glaring at my fingertips and flawless lips pressed into a thin line.

My uncertainty and intrigue softens my voice when I speak again. "What's your name?"

Those lips curve into a smirk. "Not surprised you don't know it, Hale."

The fuck you is implied as he shrugs my hand away and pushes the door open. I watch as he disappears inside – auburn hair, wide shoulders, tapered waist.

A memory tickles, is lost in the baffled haze of my mind.

Happy Birthday, CaptainJezebel!

A/N: Happy birthday to one of the sweetest people I know! I wanted to do a little something for you, and with the "captain" name, I just kept thinking of pirates...and then Pirates...and, well, this is what I came up with. I hope you enjoy it and have a fantastic day!

----------

EPOV

Sweltering

Licking my lips, I taste my own sweat as I take a break, leaning against the turnstile. I run my fingers through my damp hair, doing my best not to look at him again.

It's no use.

My eyes are drawn to the new guy. Jasper.

He just started today, but he's a natural. He teases the kids, charms the old ladies… flirts with the women.

It's the last bit that has me clenching my jaw, reminding myself that he's impossible. Even if he was gay, he wouldn't want me anyway.

I'm awkward in every way, especially compared to him.