Boring Third Period

1309 words

Rated M for lemons!

I don't own any of the Twilight characters. Oh, how I wish I did! Instead I'm writing these delicious ficlets when I'm supposed to working on my own novel. Enjoy and remember that reviews equal love!

It didn't take me long to figure out Alice's gift. It happened one day when I was looking in a store window. There was a necklace there with stones nearly the same color as her – and now my – eyes. I wavered back and forth, but decided to go in and get it for her. But when I went into the store the smell of the humans was too strong and I fled.

I hadn't noticed at first that she was especially excited when I first walked in the door. I was still getting used to her exuberance. Back then I didn't entirely trust that it wouldn't turn into the anger and suspicion I'd been used to with Maria. As the evening wore on, though, her excitement dimmed. She started to look confused. For near on a week she was this subdued.

I finally got up the nerve to ask her what was wrong. Her answer just about devastated me. "Was it for someone else?" she'd asked. I was puzzled at first. "The necklace. Did you buy it for someone else?"

I was stunned when I realized she must have had another vision of me, but this time of something that hadn't happened. Something I'd only decided to do. I was quick to explain that I'd wanted to buy it for her, but I was afraid I'd disappoint her if I lost control in that small, warm shop that smelled of food. Darling woman that she is, she forgave me instantly and said that just knowing her happiness was important to me was better than any necklace. I did go back for that necklace the very next night, though. I got her some earrings to match, too.

That was when we learned that her visions relied on people making decisions, on what they chose to do. It makes things a little more complex than it otherwise might be and has given me an interesting subject for a PHD thesis or two in philosophy, but more importantly it's given me a way to touch my wife when I can't be with her. Like now when I'm trapped in a room with twenty teenagers.

Don't get me wrong – I understand why this charade is necessary. The Cullens are a good sort and staying in one place for more than a couple days or even weeks is nice. But it's certainly not the most intellectually stimulating way to spend eternity. So I do what any normal man does when forced to spend time doing something he'd rather not. I think about sex.

Oh, not in the normal way. I don't fantasize. I choose. I choose exactly what I'm going to do to that beautiful wife of mine. Especially in third period Spanish, when I can see her two seats up and one row over.

I choose how I'm going to start by kissing her, deep and hard until she gasps for air she doesn't need. I choose how I'm going to slide my lips from her mouth to her ear and suckle on it, taking it between my teeth, my breath stirring that spiky black hair. I choose how I'm going to lean into her, pressing her up against the wall of our bedroom.

And I watch when she starts to squirm, one row over and two seats up. I watch her get flustered and shift in her seat as I decide that I'm going to slide my hand under that pretty little dress she's wearing and find where she'll already be slick and wet for me. I concentrate on my firm decision to slide my fingers into that wetness, my thumb brushing her little bundle of nerves as I pump my fingers in and out of her.

I listen as her breath catches, here where there are people all around us. Here where they don't know that I am dead certain that I'm going to bite down on that soft spot just where her neck meets her shoulders as her hips start to ride my hand.

I do waffle over the decision to take her right there, up against the wall or to toss her down on the bed and cover her with my weight. I spend long moments imagining the feel of her shuddering around me as I hold her up against the wall, her legs wrapped around my waist. No. I shake my head minutely. Not like that. Slower.

She whimpers, there in that classroom. I smile, knowing she's responding to my choice to take off that dress and lay her down on the bed. To knowing how amazing she'll look spread out in front of me like the most luscious of buffets. How I'll start with her toes, nibbling just enough to tickle, before moving up those lovely calves.

I watch her fingers twitch as I make the choice to lick her just behind her knees where her pale skin is soft and sensitive. I wonder what she'll feel when I run my lips up her thighs to the crease where her legs meet her torso, kissing her there. Will she beg me to move my mouth over that scant inch to her beautiful pussy? Or will she wait patiently while I tease her. I smile wickedly because I know my wife. Patience has never been her strong suit.

I know that as I bury my face between her legs, lapping at those heavenly juices, I will reach out with one hand to stroke those beautiful breasts, small and pert and perfect. I'll run my hand over them until I can feel her nipples hard against my palm. I'm set on teasing them with my fingers, rolling them between my fingers until they're ripe and pouting for me.

I wonder how long it will be before she shatters under my lips. I envision her soft cries as she comes, hearing her call my name as she spasms around my tongue. I hear her scoff quietly from her nearby seat, but I just smirk. She will come for me – more than once. I've decided.

When she finally lies still from the orgasm I will give her, I will move on up her body. I'll kiss that soft stomach, dipping my tongue into her belly button, making her squirm like I know she will. I'll taste those hard nipples, sucking them between my teeth and then blowing cool air over them. When I'm full over her I'll look my wife in the eye and tell her how much I love her as I sheath myself in her with one hard stroke.

Her head swivels around and she meets my gaze then, softening. I smile at her and decide that I'll kiss her, softly, as I make love to her. I'll plunge slowly in and out of her tightness and never take my lips from hers. I'll whisper against her lips every word of devotion and desire, telling her how beautiful she is, my magical wife. I'll let her feel how I feel – intense and lost and found – as we move together as one.

And, I decide, when she's on the edge, ready to explode again, I'll reach down and caress her clit, urging her on. When I feel her clench me tightly I'll let go, coming in her, merging us into one being.

Yes, I think as the damn bell finally rings, releasing us from this classroom. Those are exactly the things I will do when we get home tonight.

Alice floats over to me and we walk out together. We just smile at each other and I can feel her happiness, her lethargy as if I really had made love to her already.

Everything's perfect until Edward shoulders by us. He mutters under his breath as he passes. "Damn it, Jasper. Do you forget that I have this class, too?"