CHAPTER FOUR PART TWO: MINE

Free from desire, you realize the mystery caught in the desire, you see only the manifestations.
-Lao Tzu

Still smirking, I grip him a little tighter. "You want me to?"

Jasper giggles and pulls on my hips, sending me bouncing down over his own and feel him press up against me through my boxers, saying "Yes please." before biting the thumb of the hand I had gripping his chin.

Then, without warning, he takes my thumb into his mouth and gently sucks on it before releasing me, hand raising to grip my wrist, placing a kiss against my palm as if that makes his entire previous actions seem more innocent than it does intimate.

It definitely doesn't.

He's learned quick, that when it comes to me sweetness mixed with a hard pleasure is what's necessary to immediately rile me up, which is exactly how I treat him in bed -nice, dominating, expectant.

Jasper is almost the opposite; a bit rough, likes things done instantly and with satisfaction, and he has a dirtier mind than expected, more than once at random times just told me, "I want sex, now." and pulled me off to the bedroom.

Of course, I'm more than willing.

Even if he has his speech down well, and knows what to say and can be quite cocky outside of sex, he's much more of a bottom than I expected -even if his body tops mine most of the time. 

Honestly though, that parts not surprising. He is a... large man, after all.

A bonus, and nothing that I really able to learn otherwise, is that my tics are virtually non-existent after my body's been leveled out by an orgasm. So multiple rounds- -especially after a long or annoying tic-filled day- -are quite common.

Which isn't to say I'm using him, because I'm not, most days he's the one that asks for a round two. To me, it's just a good side effect.

Gripping his chin- -a place that is a favorite of mine to touch and lead him with- -I could care less about the spit as I angle his chin up. He lets me, and I love it.

He sits, placent and willing, letting me pin one of his wrists down as his other grips the outside of my thigh, open and clearly wanting me to touch him, wanting me.

Still, I only grip his jaw tighter and it makes his hooded eyes look up from my eyes to meet with my own. He knows, by now he knows, that before anything- -unless he's the one that starts every explicit thing we do- -I always ask.

"Yes, my star." Saying this almost teasingly before I can even get words out, he fully sits up, only to be able to press a kiss to the side of my throat. "I want to have sex with you. Actually..."

Jasper pauses, and it makes me tense, almost instantly ready to go and rip myself away from him. 

The musician's changed his mind before, and it's always a possibility and that fact doesn't escape me, especially not when he has a tendency to get overwhelmed and not realize until it's built to the point of panic.

But now, instead of pulling away or changing his mind, he wraps an arm around my hips and presses me down onto him harder, putting my full weight against him as his lips slide to the corner of my jaw.

Licking and nibbling gently, he ends up biting my earlobe before dragging his lips to my own. "Let me worship you, please. As a god, I think you'll find it quite enjoyable."

His teasing was something that always turned me on as equally it did annoy me.

"Not a god, Jasper." My words are met with a scoff that tells me he doesn't believe me, but then again I didn't expect him to. He never does. "What do you want to do?"

Placing his hand over the hem of my boxer's, close enough to my dick that it instantly makes me squirm with restraint of not moving up, my boyfriend leans close to me with a familiar, burning look in his eye as he looks at me, over my body, glancing down with heavy intent telling me there's a single thought behind his eyes, and it's a possessive one.

A look that on more than one occasion left me face down in the mattress, teeth digging into my shoulder, heavy body over mine with him growling out "You're mine." in my ear. I love it.

Occasionally, Fly's presence making him jealous can be good.

"Like I said, I want to worship you until you believe that just maybe, you are a god." Speaking gently, his hands sliding down my thighs are calloused from playing the guitar too much this week, and his fingernails grate against me. 

Gentle isn't the word that comes to mind.

Oh, oh, I know what he wants to do. Okay. Okay, yeah that's fine. I'm not going to explode or anything.

Because of the tics, me going down on someone is just completely off limits in my mind for me to even attempt to try, no matter how absolutely tempted I have been with Jasper to do so but I don't want to know what my reaction to doing that would be.

What if I bite him? Or it's weird? Or I can't stop talking?

It's a rarity only because of problems with flashbacks from Ceres trying- -and failing- -to force him. My boyfriend wants to do it more, or so he's told me, he just doesn't want to force himself and that is more than okay with me.

But Jasper has gone down on me before, a few times, but when he has it's during moments he has control over me, when I'm putty in his hands.

It's nothing like I would expect from him, his usual harshness vanishes and in place comes a slow kind of torture where he drags the entire thing out. It's comparable to how he plays the violin.

And god it's something that leaves me ruined.

Normal sex, between us, is great and amazing and one of the best things in the world. An orgasm is an orgasm, and he always makes sure that I finish. I love it. 

In fact, it's just as enjoyable, if not more just due to how close we are during the normal sex act but it's something that I've had previous experience with. Something that I've learned how to move my body, control my mind through.

Something I know that I'm good at, and know exactly how to please someone through, I know exactly what to do with Jasper to make him claw at my back and beg for it not to stop and scream my name. 

But previously, I've just been used. Just been a hook up. Been nothing more than a body -it's never been about my pleasure, just someone else's.

So when Jasper turns all of his focus on just giving me pleasure, ignoring himself, focuses on my body only and taking his god damn, patient time with it-

It's different and instead of making me feel good in the way that I'm confident and know move like this and do that and know exactly how to time and place myself to come with him, it makes me feel good in the way that I squirm and shake and cry out and can't control anything, and can only say oh my god and Jasper as he works me.

"My star?" Jasper calls me, looking up at me while he places a kiss on my bare chest, over the scars on my ribs. His eyes flick from my now completely flushed cheeks, to my lips, before he meets my eyes again. "You're red."

"Of course I'm red -bit hot innit?" My snapping only makes him smirk harder, his snake bites pulling deep into his lips. "Just, shush and kiss me already."

Chuckling he does so and keeps me firm against his lap, pressing up into my ass- -it feels annoying to have to pieces of fabric between us- -and slipping his hands under my boxers to hold onto my bare hips. 

Lips and hips sliding together, I loop both my arms over his shoulders and bury one into his hair, forcing him to press harder into the kiss. In response, his tongue slides against mine, and I expertly twist mine around his tongue piercing, making him give pause and groan against me.

Within moments I'm placed on my back on the mound of the comforter we've disturbed, and with a scoff Jasper drags my hips down to him making me squeak as he kneels between my thighs, hands running back down from my knees to my hips.

Pressing a sweet kiss against my knee makes my skin feel like I'm burning and my hips shift as a tell-tale sign of my not so sudden arousal. 

Wearing the same smirk, he pulls off my boxers off and throws it to the left, not seeming to remember that he's the one I'll make pick them right back up later.

"I'm at your mercy, star." Jasper reminds me, hand coming over mine that was now just resting against the side of his neck, where it once was tangled in black curls.

It's a way to remind me that even if he's the one pinning down my body, gripping my hips and making it so I can't move, that just because he's the one on top of me, I'm still the one that has total control.

Every bit of kindness, of love, of pleasure between us like this is a first for Jasper, and these things will never be meant for anyone else. Yet Jasper's at my mercy?

I beg to differ.

My now bruised lips are at his mercy. My skin, edged with goosebumps and bite marks, is helpless to the sensation of his heavy breath every time he finishes placing torturously slow kisses down my thighs.

My body is entirely defenseless to the arm that moves over the top of my hips, a showcase of his strength as he licks, and bites and runs his fingers along my skin and do everything other than what I'm desperate for him to do. 

I'm at his mercy, not the other way around.

Heavy kisses run along my inner thigh and I can only growl out, ticing more in frustration, and say "Jasper, please-" and like it's a reward that I earned, he places an already slick hand on me (when did he do that? I didn't see him reach for the lube. No, when did I loose all my senses) and moves too slow for my friction-seeking hips. 

His other fingertips press possessively against the curve of my hips, forcing me to stay still in the bed, and it's enough to make me feel like I'm about to cry. His teeth dig into the skin on my thigh, my hip, so effectively pleasurable that the searing feeling is comparable to a brand.

But that's what he's doing, isn't it, branding me? I love it.

If anyone else were to look at my body they'd see warning labels everywhere saying look away, he's taken and don't touch and that's exactly how he likes it. This is about making sure I'm his, making sure I see myself a certain way that makes sure I never doubt myself again.

Because he knows I've been used, and wants to give me something in return.

Jasper always requires a certain amount of movement from me, buckling hips challenging the way he pins me down, legs rising and squirming, of ticing more and more as a sign of I'm close and simultaneously, never stop, of my head thrown back and fists gripping the sheets.

Requires a certain moans and deep groans, of gasps and slurred out words, a certain way I say his name while clawing at his shoulder that tells him keep going, of shuddering breath as his mouth engulfs me and his tongue swirls that makes every word tremble out of me.

It's like he's waiting for a certain note, a certain progression of the feeling of a string against a fingertip, of a satisfactory play through of a chorus before moving onto the verse. Like I said, he plays me like one of his instruments.

No wonder he's so good with his hands.

Jasper Red is politely crude while absolutely trampling all over every sensitive nerve ending and pressure point that I have. 

I love it, because when I come he might make me speechless and so red that I can only sputter out useless shit mixed with I love you, that I know he loves because only he can make me a mess like that, but when I return the favor, he comes screaming my name. Mine. 

And afterwards, our kiss always has the same aftertaste of a bitter possessiveness.

Like I said, I love it.