Steamy Movie Crossover Contest

Name of story: "Practical Application"

Penname: VoldemortPerfumes

Movie or TV Show: Cruel Intentions, because Ryan Philippe would make a great brooding Edward, don't you think?

Main Character Pairing: Rosalie/Edward & Jasper/Alice.

POV: Edward's all throughout.

To read the rest of the entries go to the Steamy Movie Crossover Contest C2.

If you want to see the rules for this contest go to TheThreeSmutketeers profile page.

Or

ObessingoverEdward, Jayeliwood, or TheSpoiltOne-amanda2505 profile pages.

If you have any questions about the contest, contact them.

Contest ends February 5, 2009

Summary: Edward and Jasper debate the meaning of "Good" and "Bad." Edward turns it into a challenge, and even gets something he wants out of it. The boys complete the challenge in unorthodox and smutty ways. Mmm, a dirty-talking Edward and a dirty-talkin Jasper? What could be better?

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, Cruel Intentions, or any of its characters. I also don't own anything that seems like I don't own it; which I think fully covers the disclaimer. This contains serious smut, both dark and sweet/sexy, (and canon/non-canon pairing) so if you're not up to reading, then don't. Oh and I like to curse a lot in this one for some reason, so there's that too. But even with all that knowledge, you still wish to read, then to quote one of my favourite lines from Cruel Intentions, "Happy hunting!" Just make sure you review or I'll be pretty pissed...okay not really, but it does annoy me when people don't review.

July 14th---Bastille Day: Off With Their Heads!

Quote: "The secret of being miserable is to have the leisure to bother about whether you are happy or not. The cure is occupation." -George Bernard Shaw

-X-X-X-

I am truly tired of her games. My dearest "sister" is nothing more than a sort of masochist, enjoying the pain of others as fully and as wholly as if it was her favourite dish, served on a silver platter, no less. Though I do atone to the fact that I myself derive some pleasure from our antics, our schemes. Just not to the same point as her. I never will.

She is a unique creature, and one of her own making. With each broken heart or ruined reputation she slides deeper into delusions of self-grandeur, and that all consuming pleasure she receives seems to delight her more. It sickens my heart to think of this.

She used to be entertaining, and I felt myself even lusting after her at times. I think that's where we went wrong in the first place. Rosalie found out that she could have fun by denying me and I as a result only strove harder to bed her. I was not used to failure in this, the sexual hemisphere. I had no trouble securing bed-partners, usually the insipid, debutante variety, but nonetheless, they got the job done, didn't they?

Still, that was what it all began with. Her defying me, me chasing after her. She found it amusing, so she tried out some different variations, namely ruining other people. That proved most entertaining, so she threw away any semblance of a conscience she might have. I think her soulless sometimes.

--Edward.

End Quote: "The latter part of a wise person's life is occupied with curing the follies, prejudices and false opinions they contracted earlier."- Jonathan Swift

-X-X-X-

-E POV-

"So, do you understand the situation now?" I inquired of my friend, Jasper.

How lucky he was that I was feeling a bit lazy today, lazy enough to not want to get into why I would be doing what I had planned tonight. For this, I had given him a brief glance into my most prized possession, my journal.

Within its pages it held my memories, detailed descriptions of my various conquests, both horizontal and vertical (such things I prided myself on), and stories about my dearest affliction, my stepsister Rosalie.

He nodded. "So you want to fix her?" Jasper guessed.

"In other words, yes," I relented.

"How do you even begin to fix someone like that?" my friend asked skeptically, his eyebrows furrowed as he waited for me to answer this query of his. From the way he spoke, I could tell that he thought himself a philosopher asking the question of the century. Luckily for this self-inflicted intellectual, I had his answer all ready for him.

"You cure the pain---with more pain. You show them that they can't always be in control," I said simply, a crooked grin fixing itself on my face.

The look he then proceeded to give me was foreign; it was as if I had just announced that I was going to boil mewling, fluffy, newborn kittens in a vat of hot wax in some perverse act of taxidermy. I think he thought me quite mad, deranged even. However, I was as usual, disinclined to agree. Perhaps I am predictable in that aspect. But it is not an ill-suited way for me to act. I get what I want, just through means that most quote end quote "normal people" wouldn't dream of.

I am bold, a veritable Captain Kirk, as Rosalie did once call me, though admittedly she only did so as to encourage my participation in her newest little dramatic concoction. That time it was an elaborate scheme to ruin a girl's reputation. Her only offence was that she had caught the eye of my dear step-sister's ex beau. And to Rosalie, that was just unforgiveable, condemnable even. And how she liked to punish those who were condemned....

"Edward, sometimes I think you are more like her than you think, and I mean that in a bad way," Jasper warned me, his eyes sad.

"Bad isn't always bad, my friend. I know you don't want to believe it, but it's true."

"No. Not really, otherwise why would there be a 'bad' and a 'good' if they weren't always each other?" he insisted.

"Well if we're going to get into this discussion, then how exactly do we define 'bad' and 'good'?" I asked, my piano fingers forming perfect air quotes as I posed the question. He did that thing with his eyebrows again, and sighed.

"Okay, how about we start with what is bad? What do you consider bad?"

"Hurting others," was his reply.

"Not living," was mine.

"I see we disagree already," I added quickly. "How about good? What of that?"

The answers to this second question took us longer to elaborate on, as we had to really think about it. Consider the boundaries of such a thing, where crossovers into bad might occur, and so what was wholly good? That was our reasoning process.

"I cannot come up with anything other than to be kind is to be good," he told me finally, his shoulders slumping at such an unimpressive conclusion. I couldn't help myself; I just had to refute his answer, in traditional Edward style.

"Ah, but what I am planning on could be considered an act of kindness," I suggested mildly, the crooked grin making a reappearance.

"Edward..." he began, but I interrupted him.

"No, Jasper, hear me out. You may not understand my methods, but basically my premise is this: Bad things are not always works of evil; they can be put to kindness as well. I may be wrong, we shall have to see. However, if you think you are in the right, that bad is most certainly evil, why don't you give me a real example?" I finished, my countenance devilish as I mused over the words that I would use to impart my challenge.

"Whatever are you talking about, an example? Why I could give you an example right now? What do you mean by a 'real' one?"

"My friend, you could give me trite examples all day, every day, and it wouldn't be nearly as effective as the suggestion I am about to make to you. I'm talking of practical application, Jasper. Being my close friend, I've allowed you from time to time to glance at my journal. I know it interests you, though you'd never admit it. It interests Rosalie too, the only difference being that she does bother me about reading it. You'd like to read the whole thing, wouldn't you, friend? Don't lie," I said forcefully before he could speak.

"Perhaps I would," he answered pridefully, turning his face away from me as not to betray his true feelings. This of course was a useless gesture. Jasper was one of the people you couldn't help but know how they felt. They carried, as the old saying put it, their hearts on their sleeves.

"Glad you can admit to it. Now, what if I were to let you read it, perhaps keep it for a few days? If you even want, you can use it in your blasted psychology dissertation. 'Edward Cullen: A Gentleman and a Madman'. I wouldn't even be offended. What says you to that?"

Except he didn't say anything. His cobalt-blue eyes, so belying of his course of thought, glinted with that gloried spark of peaked interest as he heard me out this time. I could almost see him inwardly salivating over the wealth of information I would impart to him. I could even picture him hunched over his laptop, typing away contentedly at his dissertation, comparing the journal with what he'd wrote so far. I think he must have seen it too, or at least dreamed.

"I see you want it. Question is, are you willing do something to get it?"

The bastard nodded his head like a fucking bobble-head doll. Why, it was almost pathetic, except that I never expended time on losers. So it was pathetic lite, and I was willing to let it go for the moment.

"All right then. Now what I want you to do may not be something you're comfortable with, brutal, descriptive honesty. I want something truly...sensational. You claim to know goodness, in all its forms. I know the bad, I've got that covered. What I want from you is an account of your goodness, only in a sexual form. You wish to read my journal not only to peek into my mind, but I know you also crave the carnal knowledge I have. Don't even try to deny it. I've done so many things you're too scared to, Jasper, but you want to know, don't you? Well, write me your 'good' encounter, and I'll dish about mine. But you mustn't leave anything out. I require all details, down to the very way you feel when you're getting off. I'm descriptive, so you ought to be too."

My friend Jasper was dumbstruck after my long-winded discourse, so I gave him a few moments to regain his swagger. I was used to surprising people, I relished it. But I wasn't fucking kidding when I said my journal is sacred to me. No one gets a peek unless they've done something for me.

Plus, in a way I think this practical application will be good for him. He might come out of his shell a little bit more, at least words and sex wise. Because if he writes me this, he will have had to let go a little. I'm talking pure, unadulterated smut here. A venture into the land of aching cores and throes of passion. And the best part is, it is supposed to be good and "Pure". Nothing of my filthy variety. Maybe it will inspire me to better and more do-gooder deeds.

Probably not, but all the same...his account, it'll be fun to read.

-X-X-X-

Later that night.

-X-X-X-

"My, my, isn't this a fan-fucking-tastic surprise," Rosalie said as soon as she saw me sitting on the edge of her bed, in my robe. I knew she was smart, and that she probably knew what I was trying to do. She must have felt like playing tonight. I was glad because I loved it when she was being a bitch. It was such a turn-on.

"Nice to see you too, Rosalie," I chimed in, smirking.

The bitch took her sweet time bustling around the room, doing menial things. First she set her purse down on the nearest flat surface, an antique dresser in the Queen Anne style. It was flawless, mahogany and decorative, not to mention that it was most likely attained at one of the auctions at Sotheby's that her whore of a mother was so fucking fond of.

Her wanton mother, my stepmother, and my rather foolish father were in Bali at the present. It seemed that trouble in Paradise was inevitable for those two. My father was fucking half the resort staff at last report. At least I know where I got my stamina from.

Next she stepped behind her Shoji screen, stripping down as she hummed some forgotten melody that even I, music buff extraordinaire couldn't recognise. The lamp over head created a nice silhouette for me to watch. The curves of her body were truly exquisite in a side profile, I couldn't deny that. Round, C-cup breasts, an ass that was practically carved from marble, as well as long, shapely legs. Her hair too was nice. It hung down just past her shoulders, and was a natural blonde colour, which was a rarity these days. Usually I preferred brunettes, but for her, I would always make an exception.

She was the forbidden fruit, and for that you must be willing to forsake some previous tastes.

When she pranced out from behind the screen, she was clad in a dark-blue kimono, tied loosely around her voluptuous body. I knew she was trying to be both intentionally frustrating and desperately alluring all at once. That's just the image she liked to project.

She smirked, looking from my attire to her own.

"We almost match," she simpered, laughing softly to herself.

"I can make us match. Take the robe off, and I'll do the same."

"It's so tempting to see that overrated penis of yours, Edward, but I am rather tired tonight, and you're blocking my bed. So move," she said in a voice as fine as silk, but deadly within its depths. Any other night, I might have given in, but not now. She needed to learn something. She wasn't always the one in control. It was a lesson every bitch needed to learn.

Especially Rosalie Lillian Hale.

"No, I don't feel like it," I challenged her.

"Oh, and what do you feel like doing, brother dearest?"

"Fucking you senseless," I answered, sweet little boy's smile on my face. Fuck, I could win an award for this kind of performance.

She cocked her head to the side, gazing at me appraisingly. And then she let out a scoffing noise that was half-laugh, half-hiss. "And what makes you think I would agree to this petty scheme of yours, Edward?"

"You don't have to," I said, shrugging. "You won't agree. But you will participate," I warned her.

I stood up, stalking over to her like something predatorial, a vampire perhaps. Except that Rosalie was never the helpless, frail-flower sort. She gave me a scathing glare that suggested deepest loathing, and slapped me straight across the face when I tried to grab her by the shoulder. I stepped back, massaging my cheek gently as I glared right back at her. Bitchface's glare had faded into a smile when she saw me retreat, and that was so not getting past me.

"Bring the pain, brother," she snapped, eyes blazing as she stared at me, defiant and ready to grasp control if I even let it slip for the slightest of moments. But that was not going to happen. I was the winner in this power struggle. She had no chance in hell.

"As you wish, sister," I quipped sarcastically.

I literally dragged her over to the four-poster. The only surprise was that she was not fighting it like just a moment ago. I expected kicking, screaming, and probably some clawing. But all she did was give me that look of hers, watching me. For any lesser person, it would have scared them straight to their grave.

For me, it was merely a turn on. It suggested that this encounter was going to be good.

How oddly coincidental, seeing as how Jasper and I had speaking on that subject earlier. I wondered if he'd had his "good fuck" yet.

The memory made me smile as I tore the kimono from her form, drinking in her body greedily. The Shoji screen hardly did it justice in my mind now that I could see her below me. Her skin was that delectable shade of peach, just lightly tanned out of fashionable obligation. I felt my dick begin to harden as I leaned down to press my lips against hers. The sweet submission of her mouth was gratifying, even though her tongue and mind battled for dominance, as she and I did every day anyway. It seemed fitting that it should be this way.

With one hand I clasped her arms above her head, the other teasing her rosy nipples into taut little peaks, marbling up as soon as I brushed my slightly-calloused fingers against them, gently pinching and twisting until I elicited a fleeting groan from her, though it was one she gave grudgingly.

"You will be quiet unless I say so," I commanded forcefully, removing my hand from her breast so that she understood.

"I am your Master, and you will obey me. You are not in control tonight. I call the shots."

"You can hurt me, do whatever you like Edward. This all means nothing in the long run," she taunted me.

"You'd better shut up," I warned.

She shut her eyes. "Quit the talking, get to fucking me already. I'm bored." She faked-yawned so that I understood. Bitch....

"If you behave, Slave, I will please you. If not, well then I won't even bother. Either way, I'm getting what I want tonight."

She smiled, but didn't make a sound. Sweet progress....

"Now get on your knees. I want to see that bitter little mouth of yours wrapped around my cock. Do it now."

Giving me a haughty look, she obeyed, kneeling before me on the bed. Delicately she brushed her hair out of her face, and licked her lips to wetten them. Her hands went to untying my robe, and I shrugged off the garment, letting it pool listlessly on the bedroom floor. My erection stood proudly, perfectly in line with her face. She sized me up, but made no comment before she took me in her hot, wet mouth.

I leaned my head back, half-closing my eyes, reveling in the feeling of sweet success. I had been waiting for this ever since our parents married and she moved in. I was going to fuck her, and she was going to fucking like it.

I grabbed a handful of her hair in my hands and pulled, making her deepthroat me which felt inexplicably wonderful. The pain only seemed to fuel her fire, as I could feel her moaning around my cock every time I gave her scalp a gentle pull. The vibrations from it were sinful. At this rate I was not going to last long.

So I thrust into her mouth a few more times, till I was just on the brink of cumming, and then pulled away.

"Get on your hands and knees now. You've been a bad girl, Rosalie, and it's time to atone for your sins," I said gravely, leaving her no doubt that she would be punished. I think that bitch even liked the sound of it by the way she hastened into position.

"You like to ruin other people. That's unforgiveable," I stated, giving her ass a firm smack, leaving the faintest of red marks. She jumped a little, but otherwise made no move to cry out or even to stop me.

"You won't admit how much you have wanted to fuck me. That denial is pathetic," I continued, giving her another smack, harder now. A small trail of wetness ran down her thigh, and I thought her give a barely audible gasp. Good. She did like this.

"And lastly, in spite of all this, you walk around like Mary Sunshine 24/7. That's just ridiculous. We both know you're nothing like that." Smack. Groan.

"Do you like it when I slap you? Answer me truthfully."

"Yes!" she cried. I couldn't see her face, but the answer seemed plausible enough.

"Do you want me to fuck you hard? Or is there a softhearted little bitch somewhere in there?"

"Fuck me Eward, and don't go easy. I'm a big girl, I can handle it," she spat venomously. Ah, there's the shrew I know and love....

"You asked for it."

I wasted no time positioning myself behind her, and pounding into her aching pussy. She was so fucking wet for me, it was an ego trip like no other. I could screw her with no abandon either. This was no virgin, no boring debutante. This was Rosalie freaking Hale, and she knew her way around the bedroom. I should know, I've heard her on more than one occasion.

She bucked her hips back against me, and I was in heaven. Well Edward, you finally know what it's like, I congratulated myself. You win.

Then with a drawn-out moan, I felt her walls clench around me, milking my cock for all it was worth. Smirking, I came a few seconds later, wholly pleased with myself. Who's on top now, Rosalie? Perhaps it was a little immature of a statement, but I had been waiting years for this defining moment in my life.

"I know someone you'd like," she hinted a few minutes later when she'd been able to regain some of her swagger.

"And who would that be?" I played along, deciding to humor her even as I was tucking my flaccid-yet-glorious cock back in my pants. Hopefully this girl would actually be fuck-worthy, but with Rosalie you could never be certain if she was giving you a good name or not.

"Her name's Bella...she's quite...sweet," Rosalie said, smirking again.

"Sweet?" I questioned.

"At first glance. I have a feeling though that she's much more fun in bed."

-X-X-X-

"If you live in rock and roll, as I do, you see the reality of sex, of male lust and women being aroused by male lust. It attracts women. It doesn't repel them." –Camille Paglia

-X-X-X-

I had just finished penning in my latest and possibly most-intriguing entry in my journal, and had set it aside when the housekeeper, Brigid, stomped into my study. Her steel-grey curls bounced even as she came to a halt, a bored look on her aged face. "There's a Mr. Whitlock to see you, sir," she announced unceremoniously.

"Send him in," I said, giving her a pleasant smile in the hopes of lightening up her day. If it did, she didn't let it show.

Not even a minute later, in strode my best friend, grinning smugly as if he was still in that happy, post-coital state that we men all enjoyed. His hair was in his face as usual, and also usual, he forsook the annoyance to impart his apparently exciting news.

He had papers in his hand.

Oh goody.

"I see you have something for me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. And I believe you have something for me?" he quipped, tossing the papers casually onto my desk.

"Let me see if this is worthy first."

"Oh it is, believe me," Jasper assured me.

"Hmm..." I vocalised, picking up the first sheet. "We'll see about that."

-X-X-X-

Edward---

I wasn't sure about how I'd go about this at first. Obviously I've never written anything of the sort. All I knew is who I'd be writing about, and the general nature of the beast, so to speak. And by beast I am not referring to my lover, but this challenge you've given me. For my lady is beautiful, and an angel, though I'm sure you'll scoff when you read this. Nothing's really that pure to you, is it?

But anyway, the challenge. Bear with me, because I'm trying to remember everything I can in order to fit your specifications.

Okay, so it all happened the other night when I came home from my evening class. And for your information, Mr. Class-At-Noon-Or-Bust, evening classes suck. They wear you out to no end, and there's the knowledge that you've still got an assignment to complete. I guess the only saving grace is that I still have tonight to do the essay, because last night I never did get around to writing it.

So by the time I got back to my flat, I was pretty much spent. I think that in light of that, I deserve some extra kudos. I was not planning on doing anything but crawling into bed and hoping she'd cuddle with me before I fell asleep. Sex was something I did not plan on. But it just turned into that.

I let myself in the front door, tossed my keys onto the table, hung up my coat in the closet; the usual getting-home routine. Except that it was a little unusual to begin with.

Usually Alice is in the living room, either sketching or watching T.V. if one of the shows she likes is on. Well, the T.V. wasn't on, and she wasn't in the living room at all. So I got a little concerned, and walked around the house trying to figure out where she'd gone.

I tried the bedroom first. She wasn't there.

Walk-in closet, ditto the not there part.

Her office was empty as well.

So then I walked into the master bathroom, and there she was. And fuck if I didn't get hard in record time. She'd literally just gotten out of the shower, soaking wet, and I was closer to her towel than she was at the moment, if you get my drift.

There is something truly beautiful about a live-in girlfriend, especially when she's naked and smiling at you like she's fucking you with her eyes. I was barely able to speak, and the little minx just turns to me and asks, "Jasper, will you please hand me my towel?"

As if I would do something so sacriligeous.

I walked over to her and took her into my arms, and whispered in her ear, "Don't bet on that sweetheart."

I lift her up onto the counter so that I can kiss her easier. Stepping between her legs, I grind against her purposefully, letting her know just how turned-on I am, letting her know what she can do to me oh so easily. She leans her head back against the mirror, breathing hard, eyes closed, just feeling it for a moment. And then she opens her eyes, and leans in to kiss me. Her fingers tangle into my hair, tugging on it gently. I know she knows that I like that. She likes to tease me, to draw it out.

"You wanna know what I did today?" she asks me.

"What's that, darlin?"

"Well I was just thinking about you, and I pictured you in your class. You were writing something, and you had that look on your face. It's so cute when you try and concentrate. But then I remembered you said something about runnin' in your Phys-Ed class today and well..." she trailed off in an almost suggestive manner.

"Well what?"

"I got a little distracted, picturing that sexy ass of yours running laps," she said, smiling sweetly. However, my dick was inclined to take that as something less innocent, and it was almost painful me not to take her right then and there. But call me a masochist, because I played along.

"And...?"

"Well then I pictured you taking a shower to get cleaned-up, and it kind of made me need to take a shower myself. I was just so horny, and you weren't home to fuck me, so I took matters into my own hands, literally."

"Alice honey..." I said quietly, grinding against her a bit more just to relieve some of my tension. "I'm home now. And I am going to fuck you. You want me to fuck you, don't you sweetheart? You want to ride my cock. That's it, isn't it?"

And she just smiled like the little tease she is.

I tore my clothes off like a madman at that point, needing to be inside her, and quick. She watched me the whole time, doing that eye-fucking thing again while she ran her fingers lightly up and down her thighs, just brushing over the entrance to her pussy, on which I could already see wetness beginning to form. I then stepped close to her again, and said, "Spread those legs wide for me honey, and tell me you want me to fuck you. I need to hear you say it."

"Jasper, I want you to fuck me. I want to feel your cock inside my pussy. I want you to fuck me until I can hardly move any more. I want to watch you when I get you off. Fuck me...please."

"Well as long as you ask nicely..."

Then I rammed into her wet folds, pounding her like there was no tomorrow. It's the best fucking feeling in the world, I swear. I love Alice's pussy, and I wouldn't even be sad if it's the last one I ever fucked. That's the honest-to-fucking-God truth.

She just threw her head back and moaned. The girl has a pair of lungs on her that you wouldn't believe. The sounds she made when I upped the pace of my thrusts...those right there will about finish a man.

I claimed her mouth roughly with mine, and we kissed some more before I pulled away. Then I pulled out, letting her feel every fucking inch of me, and then rammed my cock back into her, and she came, hard.

Her pussy clenched around my dick, and I just couldn't take it anymore. I shot my load and thanked the Lord that she was on the Pill. I also gave him a shout-out for her excellent tits, which I planned on making full use of later.

Because I sure as hell wasn't done with her yet.

-X-X-X-

"Well aren't you a smug little bastard?" I teased as I reread the last bit.

"Guilty as charged," Jasper agreed happily.

"Hmm, this actually seems up to my standards, Whitlock. Nice job," I commended him.

"Now the journal?" he pressed.

"Oh, well take it. Just don't spill anything on it, or you won't like my reaction, if you get my drift," I explained.

"Jesus, Edward don't be such a pussy."

"And that is why we have friends, Jasper. To call us out from time to time," I said. It was another of my many theories about life, and the suckfest contained within it.

"Put that in there, it's a good quote," he suggested after a pause.

"I already have."