This was my entry for the Dirty Talking Jasper contest. It won first place in the public vote! Thanks to everyone who voted.

Thanks to SuperKannen for editing, and to Laura and Emily and Kathy for pre-reading various bits of this.

He's sitting at the bar, nursing a light beer and waiting for me.

I watch him for a minute before I approach. He's just as handsome in real life as he was in his profile picture, except he's not smiling. He looks nervous, fidgeting on the bar stool and tugging at the scarf draped casually around his neck.

I check my reflection in a nearby mirror before I approach him, smoothing my messy blond hair back over my ears. I make my way to him, open my mouth to greet him, and lay a hand on the small of his back.

He jumps like he heard a gunshot.

"Sorry," I tell him, holding up my hands in supplication. He tugs at the scarf again, then drops his hands to his lap and smooths them over his thighs.

"No, it's okay," he assures me. "You just startled me." He can't seem to look me in the eye-his gaze darts around, from my face to the door, stopping to glance at the patrons around us. "Jasper?" he whispers.

"Yeah," I answer, reaching out a hand to shake his. "Carlisle?"

"Um, yes," he says, taking my hand and shaking it firmly, quickly. "It's nice to meet you."

He pulls his hand away, looking around again like he's checking to see if anyone's watching us.

"You married?" I ask, taking a small step back. He looks startled, and shakes his head slowly.

"No. Not anymore, divorced," he tells me.

"So are you some kinda politician or something? Movie star? Why do you keep lookin' around like someone's watching?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. Jasper Whitlock is no one's dirty little secret-I don't play those games.

"I'm sorry," he says, his eyes wide with surprise. "I'm just... I'm new at this, and um... nervous."

Something about the way he says it is disarming. His face is open and vulnerable, his voice pleading a little for understanding.

"Okay," I tell him. "Let's get a table." I slip the hostess a twenty, asking for a table that's private. The restaurant is only half full, so she puts us in a booth away from most of the other customers. Carlisle visibly relaxes once we're hidden in our little bubble.

"So, you're new to Internet dating?" I ask, after the waiter has dropped off a fresh beer for each of us.

"Um, no. Well, yes, but that's not what I meant. I'm new to, uh, this as well," he says, gesturing between the two of us.

"So you mean... dating in general?" I ask, confused. If he was married, surely he had to date someone at some point in his life.

"No," he says, shaking his head. His eyes drop down to the table, and he smooths one finger over a nick in the wood. "I've dated before. A long time ago."

Then it clicks for me, and his nerves make sense. His jumpiness makes sense. He's not out.

"You've never dated a man before?" I ask.

He shakes his head again, dropping his hands down to his lap.

I glance around, thinking about a polite way to get out of this. Can I get away with just having a drink? This guy is sexy-his profile said he's forty-five but he doesn't look a day over thirty-but I don't think I have the patience for dealing with someone who's in the closet. I've gone down that road before, and it always ends in drama.

I like Carlisle, but I don't like drama.

I'm still thinking of ways to get out of this when he opens his mouth. Tells me his story. Draws me back in.

"Dating a man... being with a man... it was never an option for me. My father was a minister, and he talked every day of my life about how sinful homosexuals were. Every damn day of my life," he repeats softly, his eyes brightening with sudden tears. "Sometimes I think he knew and he was preaching right to me."

It's just about the saddest thing I've ever heard.

"So you married a girl?" I prompt, wanting to hear more of his story.

"Yes," he says, a sad smiling turning up the corners of his mouth. "I married a girl. Esme. She's beautiful and really... just really kind. And I did love her-I still do-it just isn't the right kind of love. It's affection instead of, um, passion. She deserved better."

"Did you have any kids?"

"One, a boy. Edward. He's twenty-two now, graduating from college soon and getting married in the fall," he shares. The waiter comes to take our order, and our conversation turns to more general first date stuff. Careers, favorite restaurants, where we grew up.

"Thank you," he says suddenly, halfway through his steak salad.

"For what?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"For being so kind," he says, staring down at his plate. "Edward told me I'd probably have to suffer through a few terrible dates before I met anyone I liked."

"Your son?"

"Mmhmm. He set up the, um, profile and everything. Showed me how to fill it out," he admits. I relax a little against the back of the booth, relieved that he's out to someone.

"When did you come out to him?" I ask.

"Around the same time I told his mother. We decided just to be honest with him about why we were ending it... it was an amicable divorce, but he was still a little upset when he found out we were splitting up. After he got over the initial shock, though, he was really supportive. He's always encouraged me to get out and meet people, but I've only just recently summoned up the courage to try," Carlisle tells me, adjusting his scarf and sliding the fabric between his finger and his thumb.

"So how long ago was that?" I prod, taking a long pull of my beer. I almost do a spit take when he answers.

"Two years," he says, so quietly that I almost can't hear him.

"Two years? You've been out for two years and this is your first date?" I immediately feel guilty because Carlisle shrinks back into the booth a little. He looks almost ashamed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to react that way. I'm just... surprised."

He nods slowly, picking up his beer bottle and rolling it between his hands.

"Even after I told Esme and Edward, it still took me some time to get comfortable with the idea of actually... doing something about it." He's blushing, now.

"So you haven't... done anything about it?" I ask quietly, looking into his blue eyes. His cheeks turn a darker shade of pink, and he shakes his head slowly.

Fuck me.

Part of me wants to signal our waiter, pay the check, and drag Carlisle back to my place. I can definitely help him do something about it. Several somethings. My cock stirs at the thought of introducing him to all the things he's never done; seeing the tension in his face melt away as my lips wrap around his cock. Brushing my fingers over his cheekbones as he sucks mine, coaching him through his first blowjob. Maybe he'd keep that scarf on and I could twist my fingers up in it...

But when I open my mouth to suggest moving this date back to my place, I hear Carlisle take a slow, deep breath. It pulls my out of my head and back to this moment, this place, and I notice that his hand is trembling a little. He grips his beer bottle tighter to still his shaking fingers, but I saw that little tremble and it made me realize how nervous he is.

And I don't want him to be nervous. I want him to be ready.

So instead of inviting him to my apartment, I tell him my story.

I tell him about coming out during my sophomore year of high school, my parents' gradual acceptance, the gay/straight alliance at my high school that made my life so much easier. He's only twelve years older, but there was a world of difference in our experiences at that age.

"Don't get me wrong, I still had assholes trying to beat me up," I tell him. "But I was lucky. I had a great group of friends that supported me."

"I can't imagine..." he says, trailing off sadly. He's still fidgeting, rearranging the silverware next to his plate.

"I know," I tell him, reaching across the table to lay my hand over his. He stiffens at first, but relaxes when he looks around and sees that we're still alone. He flips his hand over and takes mine, squeezing it tightly.

"It's been fifteen years since I came out, Carlisle," I tell him, "but I remember how it feels. Trust me when I say that everything will get easier."

He smiles, squeezes my hand again, and whispers, "Thanks."

The waiter comes back then, and I drop Carlisle's hand to let him clear our dishes. I order dessert just to have an excuse to talk to this sweet, charming man a little longer. I'm really starting to enjoy his company, the way he's laughing and smiling now that he's warming up to me. I'm resolved not to invite him back to my place, no matter how much I want to rip off his scarf, unzip his preppy cardigan, and peel off all the other layers until he's naked in my bed.

We share a piece of cheesecake and two small cups of espresso. Finally, when the waiter is circling and staring pointedly at the little black folder on the edge of the table, Carlisle moves to pay.

"Let me," I offer, reaching for the check.

"I've got it," he says.

"Then I'll get it next time," I promise. He looks up at me, tucking his credit card into the little slot, his face open and hopeful.

"Next time?" he says softly.

"Yeah," I tell him. "If you want," I add quickly.

"I'd love that," he says, a smile spreading across his face.

I walk him to his car, explaining that I live nearby and I walked to the restaurant. He stands awkwardly by the driver's side door of his Mercedes, fumbling with the keys while he says goodbye.

"Thanks for dinner, Carlisle," I tell him. "I'll call you, okay?"

"Okay," he says, swallowing nervously. His eyes dart between my eyes and my lips, his feet shuffling nervously. It's kind of adorable.

"Carlisle?" I ask, stepping a little closer.

"Hmm?" he says, shivering a little as I get closer.

"Have you ever kissed a boy?"

He smiles a little at my wording, despite his nerves, and shakes his head.

"No? Do you want to kiss me?" I ask, wrapping my fingers around both ends of his scarf. He nods his head, his forehead brushing mine gently, and a little moan escapes his lips. "So kiss me."

I move a little closer, to make it easier for him, but I stop when my lips are two inches away from his. I make him meet me halfway.

His lips are so soft, so warm pressed up against mine. It's a nice, sweet kiss, the kind I haven't really had since I was a kid, but it's promising.

"Wow," he says, pulling away and resting his forehead against mine. I can't stop myself from chuckling, amused at his reaction.

"I'll call you tomorrow," I promise, pulling back. But then his hands are at my waist, holding me in place, and he leans in to kiss me again. It's a little less timid this time, and I can't help but think about how sexy this man will be when I really get him going.

"Goodnight, Jasper," he whispers, when he finally pulls away.

"Goodnight, Carlisle."

Walking away from him tonight is tough, but he's definitely gonna be worth the wait.

"How was your weekend?" I ask, settling back against my pillows. We've been on three dates so far-three chaste dates, although Carlisle's sweet goodnight kisses have become increasingly more passionate. I haven't seen him since Wednesday; he spent the weekend with his son and future daughter-in-law. We've texted back and forth a few times, but this is the first time we've been able to talk on the phone without interruption.

"It was fun," he says. "Bella's a sweet girl. They're so obviously head over heels for each other... it's really cute." His voice doesn't quite match with his words though-he sounds a little too sad. I know by now that Carlisle will keep talking if I give him some time, so I just listen to the sound of his breathing and wait for him to tell me what's on his mind.

"I suppose it was a little bit hard for me," he finally says.

"How do you mean?" I ask, picturing him in his bed-probably wrapped up in Ralph Lauren sheets.

"Just seeing them... so obviously in love, so obviously desperate for each other, you know? It made me think of all the time I wasted," he admits. "And then I feel guilty for thinking of it that way. It wasn't a waste, I know that, and I wouldn't trade Edward for anything in the world..."

"You just wondered what it would've been like if you had that sort of relationship when you were their age?" I ask.

"Exactly," he breathes. "I'm glad you understand."

"Of course, Carlisle. I know it's hard to think back on the things you missed out on. But try to think about all the exciting things you have ahead of you, you know? There's so much livin' out there for you to do. So many things for you to experience," I tell him.

"Like what?" he asks, his voice lower now.

"Well there's Gay Day at Disney World, for one," I joke, and he bursts out laughing.

"Somehow that doesn't really appeal to me," he says.

"How about... going out to a gay bar and dancing with men? Wrapping your arms around a man's shoulders and dancing 'til you're sweaty and exhausted and so turned on you can't think straight? You ever done that before?" I ask, allowing myself to picture straight-laced Carlisle at a dance club. I'd have to wrestle him out of his cardigan and get him into a tight t-shirt, but I know he could pull it off. My hand brushes my cock through my briefs and I feel it start to perk up.

"No, I've never done that before," he says. "Would you... would you want to do that? With me?"

"Sure thing," I tell him. "We can do that next weekend, if you want. See, something to look forward to."

"I always look forward to seeing you," he confesses. "Whenever I come home after one of our dates, Jasper, I look at the calendar and figure out how long it will be until I see you again."

"That's so sweet, Carlisle. You wanna know what I do when I come home after our dates?" I tease, squeezing my cock roughly through my underwear as it grows to its full length.

His breath hitches, but he's quiet for a minute. Wait, I tell myself. Just wait.

"Tell me," he says, after an eternity of quiet, shallow breathing.

"I come home and take off all my clothes... just strip down to my underwear... and I crawl into bed, just like I am now. And my dick is always so hard, just like it is now," I tell him, my voice dropping to a low growl as I push my briefs down over my hips, freeing my cock.

"Oh, God," he groans, his breathing growing heavier. "You really-because of me?" he asks.

"Do I touch myself because of you? Fuck, yeah, I do," I tell him honestly. I'm loving his reactions, the little gasps and barely-controlled groans that tell me he's doing exactly what I'm doing. "You're so hot when you kiss me goodnight. I know you're trying to be good, Carlisle, and take it slow, but I can feel how much you want me. It makes me so goddamn hard."

"M-m-me too," he breathes.

"It makes you hard, too?" I ask, wanting to hear him talk more.

"No... well, yes. But I meant... I do the same thing, after our dates. I come home and I... God, I think about you touching me," he admits.

"Just touching?" I prompt, stroking a little bit faster now and squeezing the head on the upstroke.

"Everything," he whispers, his breathing labored now.

"You wanna know what I think about?" I ask, spreading some of my pre-cum over the head of my cock.

"Please," he groans. I bet he's the kind of guy who wears pajamas to bed, real matching pajamas, and he probably has his hand down the front of his preppy plaid pants.

"I think about your dick in my mouth, Carlisle. About kissing all over your thighs and your stomach, sucking on your balls, and licking up to the head of your dick. I'd tease you for so long, you'd be begging me to let you cum. Do you want that? Do you want my mouth?" I ask, my voice getting shakier as I get more and more turned on.

"Yes," he pants.

"Say it," I beg. "Come on, tell me what you want."

"I want you... I want your mouth," he whispers.

"I'd be so good, Carlisle. I'd blow your mind. Think about feeling my lips around that dick, baby. Your fingers in my hair. Close your eyes and imagine it, Carlisle. Imagine you can reach down and touch my cheek, feel the stubble on my jaw and-"

"Oh, God!" he cries, interrupting my filthy train of thought. "I'm cumming," he moans, before gasping and grunting through his orgasm.

I pump my dick faster, catching up to him, and talk him through his orgasm. "That's right, baby. Cum hard for me. I can't wait to taste you."

The sounds of his pleasure are enough to get me there, to leave me panting and grunting just as loud as Carlisle.

We're both quiet, after, just listening to the sound of each other breathing, slowly quieting down as we come back to Earth.

"Jasper?" he finally says, his voice sleepy and sated.

"Mmmm?" I respond, unable to produce any rational thoughts just yet. I smile, though, at Carlisle's next question.

"When can I see you again?"

We go out to dinner again on Tuesday.

This time, I take him to Level Five, a restaurant sandwiched right between two gay bars. He's a little nervous coming here, but I assure him he'll fit in just fine. I tell him to relax; we can hold hands here and no one will care.

Over a plate of calamari, he tells me about one of his cases at work.

Over dinner, we talk about the neighborhood-bars, art galleries, nightclubs.

Over dessert, I tell him that all I can think about is our phone call Sunday night. That I keep hearing his voice replaying in my head. His cheeks flush red, and he stares down at our chocolate cake.

"Me too," he offers.

"You know what else is great about this neighborhood?" I ask him, dragging a piece of cake through the raspberry sauce on the plate.

"What?" he asks, his eyes on my fork as I lift it to my mouth. I make a show of it, sticking my tongue out to taste the sauce and moaning a little before I take a bite.

"It's only a block away from my apartment," I tell him, licking the leftover sauce from my lips.

Carlisle nods, staring at my lips, but doesn't seem to register what I said.

"Do you want to go there, Carlisle? To my apartment?" I ask, reaching over to lay my hand on his exposed wrist. He's wearing one of his scarves again, a pale blue one, but he's wearing a sportcoat tonight instead of a cardigan. The sleeve is riding up just enough for me to touch the bare skin of his wrist. He shivers, nods his head, and turns to look for our server.

"Excuse me? Could we have the check, please?" he asks, reaching into his back pocket. By the time our waiter comes back with the check, Carlisle is ready with his AmEx.

I laugh a little at his enthusiasm, but the hungry look in his eyes shuts me right up.

He's quiet on the walk back to my place, hands in his pockets, focused on the ground in front of him. We walk quickly in the chilly evening air, but he slows down the farther we get from the main street.

"You okay?" I ask, reaching over to hook my elbow with his.

"Mmhmm," he says, looking over at me. He's nervous, I can tell, so I plant my feet right there on the sidewalk and pull him into a hug.

"You've got nothin' to be worried about, Sugar," I whisper, pressing my lips to his jaw. I pull back, knowing he's still uncomfortable with this kind of PDA, and nudge him with my elbow. "Come on, I just wanna show you my baseball card collection," I tease.

He laughs, and it's enough to break the tension. I lead him down the street, into my building, up the stairs and into my place.

I let him explore for a few minutes, watch him drag his fingers over the back of my black leather couch and stare at the books on my shelves. I open a bottle of wine, pour two glasses, and leave them on my coffee table.

"Stay right here," I tell him, kissing his cheek before I leave the room. "Take off your jacket!" I call over my shoulder, before I dive into my walk-in closet. It takes me a long time to find the box I'm looking for-it's buried inside another box, under my notebooks from high school.

When I walk back into the living room, Carlisle has his hand on the doorknob.

"Where are you running off to?" I ask gently.

"I'm sorry, I just... I don't know if I can," he says, shaking his head left and right. He won't look at me, he's just staring at his hand on the doorknob. I've never seen him quite so tense-I left him alone for too long and he had time to work himself up into a tizzy.

"You don't wanna see my 1958 Mickey Mantle?" I ask, walking a little closer.

"What?" he says, his brow furrowing in confusion. He looks up at me, takes in the box in my hands, and then shakes his head again. "Wait, you were serious?"

"Yeah, of course. Baseball cards. I got a ton of 'em, and the 1958 Mickey Mantle is worth like, five hundred dollars. It's my crown jewel! Come on, sit down," I urge him, tugging his hand away from the doorknob. He follows me to the couch and sits, watching as I unearth the cards and tell him stories about each one.

Gradually, he lets himself relax. He gets a little more comfortable in my space, takes off his jacket, even unwinds his scarf from around his neck. I joke about it being his security blanket, and he blushes again.

"I'm sorry I tried to run away," he says. "You were in there for a long time and I didn't know what to do, or if you expected me to do anything, and I just felt so silly waiting out here..."

"I'm sorry I left you alone for so long," I tell him. I put the last card back in its protective sleeve and stow it back in the box, tucking it into the corner of the couch behind my back. "I don't expect you to do anything, Carlisle."

"I know..." he whispers. Wait, I remind myself. Wait for him. "But there are things that I want to do, and I just don't know... I don't know if I can," he finally adds, twisting his scarf in his hands.

"Like what?" I ask, scooting a little bit closer. He opens his mouth to respond but nothing comes out.

"I... um..." he says, looking back and forth between me and his scarf. I move closer still, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and pull the scarf from his hands. I wait, trying to give him time to find the right words, but they aren't coming to him this time.

"How about I tell you what I want," I offer, nuzzling his neck. "And you tell me what you think?"

"Okay," he exhales, tilting his head back just a little to give me better access.

"I wanna kiss you," I tell him, my lips moving against his warm skin. "I want to kiss those soft, pink lips of yours. Does that sound good to you?"

"Oh, yes," he groans, turning his head. I let him find my jaw with his lips, but I tilt my head back and keep talking.

"I want your shirt off, too. I want your bare chest pressed against mine while we do all that kissing, okay?" I ask, fingering the buttons of his stiff oxford shirt.

"Yes, yes, okay," he says, still searching. His lips meet mine and he kisses me desperately, twisting and turning in my arms until we're facing each other. I was right, he's fucking sexy when he's all worked up.

We struggle a little, back and forth, each trying to kiss harder, taste more. His hands are resting at my waist, clutching at my shirt, and he starts to twist the fabric in his fingers, lift it up just a little. I pull back from his lips, break the kiss, and hold my arms up to the sky. Asking him, silently. Inviting him.

He pulls my henley off slowly, dragging it up my sides and over my shoulders, up my arms to the tips of my fingers. He lets it fall behind me, and his fingers follow the same path back down my body, touching me so lightly that I can't stop shivering.

"Wow," he says, letting his thumbs brush my pecs reverently. I can't stop myself from laughing then, and Carlisle pulls his hands away, embarrassed.

"Come on, baby," I tease. "You're being way too kind."

"You're just so... sexy," he breathes, reaching for me again. I pull my legs underneath me so I'm kneeling on the couch, facing Carlisle. His hands grip my waist, those thumbs moving back and forth, so slowly that it's killing me. I kiss him again, distracting him while I unbutton his shirt. He wiggles out of it, letting me peel it from his arms, and moans when I slip my fingers under his white t-shirt.

"Can I take this off, too?" I ask, pressing my palm flat against his stomach. He nods, lifting his arms for me just like I did for him. I lift the shirt over his head, exposing his bare skin. He's strong, solid, without being overly muscled. I run my fingers through his pale chest hair, scratching gently at his chest.

"Yes," he whispers, pressing his face into my shoulder. "You feel so good. I want to see you-feel all of you."

"You tryin' to get me naked?" I whisper, nibbling on his earlobe as he kisses my chest. He stops, surprised, and tilts his head up to look me in the eye. Only when he sees the smile on my face does he smile back, nodding his head ever so slightly.

"Yeah, I think I am," he says, sliding a finger under the waistband of my jeans. I bat his fingers away and stand up, turning to stand between his spread legs. His hands reach for me automatically, curling around my thighs.

"Go ahead," I tell him, pausing only to squeeze my dick through my jeans. "Take 'em off." I reach out to brush my fingers against his cheek and then squeeze his shoulder. He moves slowly, dragging long fingers up the backs of my thighs before sliding them up and around, moving to undo the copper buttons at my fly.

Carlisle groans when he sees nothing but skin being revealed, inch by inch. The backs of his fingers brush the bare skin of my cock and he jumps, his hands falling back into his lap.

"Don't tell me you've never gone commando," I tease, pushing my jeans down over my hips. He shakes his head silently, his eyes locked on my dick while I lift my feet out of my jeans and kick them aside. I give him a little show, wrapping my fingers around my shaft and stroking myself lightly. "I think it's your turn. Wanna take those Dockers off?"

He doesn't answer, just shakes his head without ever taking his eyes off my cock.

"You don't? What do you want to do, darlin'?" I ask, brushing a thumb over his collarbone. He shudders and leans into my touch, tilting his head down so he can rub his cheek against my hand.

"I want to make you cum," he says. "God, that's what I really want."

"Mmmm," I moan, stroking myself a little harder. "That can be arranged. How do you want me, Carlisle? Like this? Or do you wanna go to the bedroom?"

He hesitates, his eyes narrowing as he tries to decide, and I lean down to place a soft, sweet kiss on his lips.

"Like this, right here," he says, moving his lips against mine. I stand up straight again, cupping one hand around his neck, and he lets his forehead drop to my hip. I'm sort of hoping he'll start kissing me there, but he pulls away after just a second. His hands wrap around my thighs again, this time curling around bare skin covered with coarse hair. He follows the same path up, up, and around, moving closer to where my hand is loosely wrapped around my dick.

The first touch is tentative, his palm pressed flat against my pelvis and his thumb just barely brushing the base of my dick. I move my hand away, dropping it down to my side to give him room to play.

"Fuck, yeah," I moan, shifting on my feet to try to keep my balance. He's exploring more now, holding my dick so gently and brushing his thumb up and down the length of it. "That feels great. A little harder?"

Carlisle finds a nice rhythm, uses a firm grip and a fast pace to get me rock hard, but I'm not really getting off on what he's doing. The thing that's really making me sweat, making my cock twitch, is the look on his face. The focus, the attention, the pure excitement in his eyes just from giving me a handjob in my living room is so fucking sexy. I know he could make me cum like this, but the way his tongue keeps poking out to wet his bottom lip makes me wonder if he just needs a little push to try something more.

"God, you look hot," I tell him, cupping his jaw in my hand. "I bet those lips would look so sexy wrapped around my dick, baby. That's what you want, isn't it? You want my cock in your mouth?" I ask, pushing my thumb between his lips. He groans and sucks my thumb into his mouth, laving the base of it with his tongue.

"Good, just like that. That's exactly what I want you to do to my cock. And then up and down, as fast as you want," I tell him, guiding his head gently until he's bobbing up and down, his lips sliding over my thumb. "You ready for more? Ready to suck my dick?"

He nods, drops a hand to my knee, and leans forward. I stop him, tugging at the short hairs at the base of his neck to hold him still.

"Tell me that you want it, first. I wanna hear you say it," I ask, just a little worried that I'm being too pushy.

"I want it," he blurts out. "I want to suck your cock. It's all I can think about."

"Alright, alright," I tell him, cupping my palm around the back of his neck. I don't push, just hold him there and guide him a little bit closer to where he wants to be.

His lips part and he sucks just my tip into his mouth, tracing the slit with his tongue and humming in pleasure.

"Jesus, fuck," I cry, my voice shaking. "That feels fuckin' perfect, baby," I tell him, trying to keep my grip on his neck loose. Trying not to pull him down against me and push deeper into his mouth before he's ready. I know he's probably built this experience up in his head, and I don't want to ruin it for him. He works the head for a long time, swirling his tongue around it and letting it slip back and forth over his soft, wet bottom lip.

"You look good, Carlisle," I tell him, stroking his cheek with my free hand. "You look so good with my cock in your mouth. Does it feel good?" I ask, my eyes boring down into his.

"Yeah," he whispers, nodding just a little before he ducks down to take more of me in his mouth.

"Shit," I hiss, feeling his cheeks hollow around me as he pulls back. "That's nice. Keep doin' that, okay? You like how it tastes?"

This time he hums his reply, moaning around my shaft, and it sends tremors up and down my spine.

"Fuck me," I curse, my fingers tightening around the back of Carlisle's neck. He's going too fast, it's too much, and I use my hand to guide him into a gentler rhythm. "There you go, sexy. Nice and slow, just like that. God, that feels fucking amazing."

He gets a little adventurous and tries to pull me back into his throat, but it's too much for him and he chokes, panics, and pulls away.

"Shhh, it's okay," I soothe, rubbing his back as he coughs and sputters. "You're okay."

"I'm sorry," he says, shaking his head in frustration.

"It happens to the best of us," I tell him, leaning down to kiss his lips. I tug at his hair and press my tongue into his mouth, trying to keep him in the mood. "You wanna keep going?"

"Am I doing okay?" he asks, scooting a little closer to the edge of the couch.

"So good," I tell him, moving back between his legs. "So fuckin' good. You're gonna make me cum," I promise, tapping the head of my cock against his bottom lip. He's so eager this time, taking me deep (but not too deep) and picking up right where he left off.

"Is that what you want? To make me cum?" I ask, combing my fingers through his hair. "Cause your mouth feels so fucking hot," I groan, punctuating my words by thrusting against him just a little.

He's whimpering a little now, his face flushed red and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. I can feel my muscles tensing, my balls tightening in anticipation of the release that's creeping up on me.

"You are so fucking sexy," I tell him, bracing one hand on his shoulder while the other guides his movements. "I'm gonna cum, Carlisle. You don't have to swallow it, okay? You can... fuck. You can use your hand and jerk me off, okay? But I'm really close," I warn.

He doesn't let up, doubling his effort and moving faster over my dick. It's so fucking hot knowing that he's never done this before, that my cock is the first one he's ever tasted. And he fucking loves it.

"Your fucking mouth... yes. God, yes, Carlisle, I'm cumming... fuck," I groan, fighting to keep myself from thrusting hard into his mouth as I let go.

He tries to pull me deeper, to swallow around me as I cum, but it's too much for him. He sputters and pulls back, and I groan as the last spurts fall over his lips and the flushed skin of his chest.

"Damn," I mumble, turning and collapsing on the couch next to him. I lean back and watch as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand but misses a drop at the corner of his mouth.

"Come here," I tell him, pulling him back to recline with me. I swipe at the stray drop of cum with my tongue before kissing him, long and hard, trying to pour all my gratitude and my affection into that kiss.

"Was that..." he starts, but I cut him off with my lips, kissing him senseless.

When I finally let up, he smiles and reaches down for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.

"Was that good?" he finally asks, and I chuckle at his seriousness.

"It was fucking amazing, Carlisle. You were perfect. Did you like it?" I counter, pulling my hand from his and reaching between his legs. "Mmm, I think you did like it," I tease, squeezing his erection.

"Oh, God," he whimpers. "Yes, so much. I loved it."

"Well you just about wore me out with that performance, but I think maybe I have just enough energy left to return the favor," I whisper, kissing his cheek before I slide down to my knees in front of the couch.

He's quiet as I pull off his pants and his boxers, sweat covering his brow and short, gasping breaths falling from his lips. His dick is perfect, thick and cut, and I waste no time taking him deep.

"Jasper!" he cries, his entire body tensing as he bolts upright.

I remember too late that this is new for him-while he may have done this before with his wife, it was never really a woman's mouth he wanted. It makes me feel powerful, knowing how much he's fantasized about a man doing this to him, but I also feel responsible.

Responsible for making it good for him, for making his fantasy come true.

I slow my pace, vary the pressure, try to make it last. His hands are clenched in fists at his sides, and I lift them, one by one, and move them to my body. He twists his left hand in my hair and rests his right on my jaw, his palm moving slowly over my five o'clock shadow.

He's so relaxed, slumped down against the back of my couch with his ass on the edge of the seat. I push his thighs open just a little wider, shuffling closer as I suck him. I start slow, just tracing circles on his inner thighs, but slowly, gradually, I move down to his balls. He spits out a string of curses when I touch them lightly and cup them in my hand.

"It's too good," he says, hissing as his hips lift up and the head of his cock hits the back of my throat. "Shit, I'm sorry," he murmurs.

I shake my head a little, trying to tell him not to apologize without letting him go, and the tip of his cock taps against the insides of my cheeks.

"It's too... I'm too close," he says, the fingers in my hair tightening. I roll his balls in my left hand, squeezing them just enough to really make him feel it, and rub just below them with my right hand. He's gasping and tensing and chanting my name, but it isn't until I circle my index finger around his ass, just barely putting pressure on it, that he explodes.

I've never seen anyone cum like this. He's practically sobbing, shouting my name, his whole body tense as he fills my mouth with his thick cum. I'm a little (okay, a lot) more practiced than Carlisle, and I manage to swallow it all without losing a drop. Even after he's done, after his hands fall away from my head and his eyes close in exhaustion, I suck at him gently until he softens and slips from my lips.

I rest my head on his thigh and watch him as he comes back to Earth, as his breathing slows and his eyes flicker open. I grin when he meets my gaze and the sweetest, most beautiful smile appears on his face.

"Was that good?" I ask, smirking.

"Jesus," he says, laughing as he throws his head back.

We rest like that for a few minutes, my head in his lap and his fingers absently stroking my jaw and my neck, until I stand up and pull Carlisle to his feet, too. I lead him through my apartment, turning off lights as I go, and pull him into my bedroom.

I like having him here in my space, watching him look up at the posters lining my walls. He catches me staring at him and turns away, embarrassed that he's still naked.

"Oh, now you're shy," I tease, as I open a drawer and pull out two pairs of boxers. I toss one to him and slip on the other pair before ducking out quickly to use the bathroom.

Carlisle follows suit, and when he comes back into my bedroom he finds me in bed, sitting up against the headboard. I pat the empty side of the mattress, inviting him in.

"I could go home if you want," he says shyly, crawling under the covers with me.

"I don't want," I tell him, kissing his shoulder as he lays back against the pillow. "I like having you in my bed."

"I like it, too," he says, turning on his side to face me.

I turn off the lamp on my bedside table, and suddenly it's dark. Too dark to see anything except Carlisle's face, so close to mine.

"Jasper?" he whispers, scooting just a little bit closer.

"Yeah?" I wrap one arm around his waist and pull him flush against me, rolling back so he can rest his head on my shoulder.

"When can we do that again?"

Thanks to anyone who read and voted in the contest.

What do you think of Jasper and Carlisle together? Please take a minute to review and let me know. :)