Paper Faces - 50. Surreal

We're at an impasse. We could keep talking in circles, but finally I have to know. "So if you hate me…" I'm surprised by how soft my voice is. I'm afraid that speaking louder would make the words real. "Why did you want to see me today?"

He studies me, his eyes fixing me in place before he runs his fingers through his hair. His hand settles on the table so close to mine that I can feel his heat. "It was hard enough for other men to compete with a fantasy of you, Jasper. It's impossible with a memory."

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.