Title: Verum Quod Eventus
Chapter: 01. Veritas
Author: stolenxsanity
Characters/Pairings: JasperxEdward
Rating: M/NC-17
Spoilers: None; AH/AU

Summary: Jasper has a fated meeting one night that finally allows him to let go. But, will it only be temporary? Originally written for the "Tattward and Inkella One-Shot" Contest. OOC. Slash. JxE

Disclaimer: Twilight and all recognizable characters belong to SMeyer, Verum Quod Eventus belongs to me.

A/N: ahizelm is responsible for the writing of this slash!fic. She prodded, I said one day, and apparently one day is now. Le Sigh. Luckily, I love her and this didn't turn out as horribly as I'd expected. Miss RAEcouter and ahizelm beta-ed this little piece of work and I shall owe them eternally for making sure this was all squared away on such short notice. You both are fucking amazing and I can't thank you enough. The ever-lovely vi0lentserenity helped with the early stages, pushing me in the right direction and offering suggestions. Love you something fierce, bb. And no worries, you have not been replaced.

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most importantly, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary." – Steve Jobs

[JPOV]

Veritas.

I traced each of the seven letters etched permanently onto the inside of my forearm with a meticulous finger. The familiar motion had me wondering when I'd finally start adhering to the singular-worded motto I'd set for my life. It was simple enough to ascribe to, in theory. In both Latin and English this mantra translated into a basic human philosophy, truth. To have to question when I'd truly walk my life, with this at the center of my purpose, easily unveiled the implications of my own self-denial. In practice, however, the repercussions of ascribing to this well meaning notion could permanently damage the career I'd worked long and hard to carve out for myself. All virtuous thinking aside, the Military's policy on the matter was quite plain with no room for interpretation: "don't ask, don't tell." But pretending to be something – someone – that I wasn't was wearing on me. I wore a stifling mask and carried on with an exhausting façade because, at one point, this career had been all that I'd wanted.

Now, though, my priorities had changed exponentially. I was tired of pretending to be someone else and definitely tired of being in this absolute farce of a relationship. I loved Alice for everything that she'd done for me over the years, and for accepting me so completely despite the fact that she had hoped for more between us. The problem was I loved her as if she were my sister and it was awkward to act like we were anything more. Alice was, without a doubt, beautiful on the inside and out and she deserved the happiness that being in a legitimate relationship could bring; a happiness that she wouldn't be able to find by being tied down by this selfish charade.

"I was SSG Jasper Hale Whitlock: my father's pride and my mother's joy. Growing up I excelled far beyond anyone else in everything that I set my mind to, regardless of what it was. As a gay soldier, however, I was bound by contract to a job that refused to tolerate homosexuality in any way. It was a mess of my own making, that was certain, and I was at a complete loss on how to fix it. I had, long ago and with complete understanding, chosen to accept that certain lifestyle choices would not be tolerated while pursuing a military career. As a young man, barely of age with the world wide open before me, I'd thought that was what I wanted; what I needed to fulfill the dreams that my parents had for me. How could I possibly keep any promise to myself that would ultimately disappoint my family and ruin the life that I had created? No matter how I dissected it, there was only room for one part of who I was. Either I was living honestly or I was a Soldier.

"Yo, Whitlock," my annoying roommate, James, called from the direction of the common area as I sat at my desk lost in thought. "A few of the guys are going out tonight. You're coming, right?"

"Where are y'all going?" I drawled out lazily, not really interested in keeping my carefully constructed wall in place for any length of time, at least not tonight. There was too much on my mind and I didn't have the energy it took to continue playing my part.

"Femme Nu," he responded, popping my door open and leaning into the frame as he wriggled his eyebrows at me. "Where else would we be going on a Friday night? Strippers and booze are the only ways to celebrate the end of a work week."

"Strippers and booze, James? Really?" I muttered with disgust, plucking a cigarette from the pack beside my hand and lighting it quickly. "Don't you guys have anything better to do than sit in a strip club ogling naked women? We're living in paradise for fucks sake."

"Jasper, just because your little pixie of a girlfriend prohibits you from having some good old-fashioned, male inspired fun doesn't mean you need to rain on our parade." James made his way into my room, settling himself on the edge of my bed like he owned the place. "Maybe if you'd grow a pair and stop leaping and cowering at her every word, you'd understand why we go there every week."

"For your information, James, I don't need to ask Alice's permission to do anything. I just don't find entertainment in objectifying women."

"Whatever man, it's your loss. When the warden relinquishes her grip on your manhood, let me know."

I rolled my eyes at his retreating back before propping my feet up on my desk and reclining in the chair. This hadn't been the first time James and the rest of the guys in our unit had tried to get me to go out with them. Actually, it had been a similar invitation that had prompted me into asking Alice – begging, really – to be my pseudo-girlfriend, providing a justifiable excuse as to why I constantly passed on their voyeuristic escapades. Alice was my safe-haven and anchor in this crazy world that I lived in and the first person I had really gotten to know when first stationed at Schofield Barracks in Hawai'i.

It had been my second day here and, already tired of all the drinking and partying going on at the Barracks, I'd decided to drive around for a bit to get acclimated to my new surroundings. After an hour or so of seemingly endless side and back roads that appeared to go absolutely nowhere, I'd stumbled upon a little building advertised by a big and bold sign reading, "Sunny Side Bakery." I parked quickly and strolled inside only to be greeted, the moment I stepped through the door, by the tiniest ball of pure energy that I'd ever met. It had been an almost instantaneous connection, and within minutes we were talking to each other as if we were old friends reunited. I told her things that I'd never shared with anyone in my life, least of all someone that I hadn't even known for a full day, and it had just felt right. I even unveiled my sexual orientation, the one thing that I was careful to never let slip for fear that it would get back to my command. This practice wasn't built out of paranoia, just precaution. I couldn't afford to be discharged at this point in my life, honorable or not. Unfortunately, I didn't miss the fleeting look of sadness that had passed over Alice's face when I mentioned that I was, in fact, gay and couldn't help the completely irrational guilt that I felt over disappointing my first real friend in what seemed like forever. She had recovered quickly, though, offering to go with me to any one of the handful of gay clubs the island had to offer.

The sounds of Animal I Have Become blared from my cell phone, indicating a text message. I didn't need to look to know that it would be from Alice suggesting some form of entertainment for the night that would, undoubtedly, be a hundred times more appealing than what James had offered earlier.

"J – Cheesecake Factory in Waikiki 7? Meet me there; I'm still over at the water park with Cyn. XX"

I responded to her query hastily in the affirmative with a request to check out Dark Side Tattoo after dinner and plugged my phone into its charger. If we were going to be out late – a definite possibility when Alice was involved – I'd need to be sure I had a full battery.

I was on the road soon after that, having taken a fast shower before dressing and practically sprinting to my car. Traffic here was nowhere near as bad as I'd experienced in the states, but I still didn't feel like sitting in my car for two hours as we inched along on the freeway. The after work gridlock mixed with the heat of the sun burning me through the windows was enough to drive me slowly insane. Despite the standstill, I knew I'd still arrive earlier than Alice had instructed, but it was preferable to making her wait for me.

Just as I'd predicted, I was parked and meandering through the International Marketplace by a quarter after six. It would be a nice, leisurely stroll from here to the end of the strip where the hotels merged into wide open beaches before the beautiful sight of Diamond Head obstructed my view. I toiled the time away, strolling through the many stands dotting the area, thinking of the reason that I had finally decided to get another tattoo. The first – my failed pledge to myself that I wore with shame – had been done the day I'd turned eighteen. It had been an act of rebelliousness that ended up meaning far more than initially assumed. I'd chosen it shortly after accepting the fact that I was sexually attracted to men. Years had been spent trying to force myself to be "normal" – at least by my skewed standards at the time – and I'd failed miserably. It didn't matter how many girls I attempted to hook-up with, it had all been in vain. Though physically attractive in every way, their bodies had done absolutely nothing for me.

I had been sixteen at the time and, once word had reached my sister regarding my less than stellar performance in bed, she would not stop hounding me; constantly asking if I was gay because those girls had been almost as stunning as she was. Humbleness was never Rosalie's forte. Her words then had hit far too close to home, and I reacted the only way I'd known how to at the time; with bitter and biting words that barely concealed my humiliation. Even now, when we talked on the phone, the awkwardness permeated the transmission. She was very old-fashioned in her way of thinking, as were my parents, and they would never understand that I hadn't set out to be gay. It wasn't as if I'd woken up one day and consciously decided that I liked guys. It killed me having to hide this part of myself from my family, especially when the constant inquiries came about whether or not I had found a "nice girl to bring home and meet the family" yet. I could just imagine the looks of horror on their faces when – if – I ever came out to them. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that my father would disown me on the spot, and that knowledge was a bitter fucking pill to swallow.

My aimless steps halted in front of the restaurant, and I pulled my phone out to check the time while craning my head over the crowds of tourists to try and spot Alice's head of pitch black spikes. Finally spotting her, I made my way closer and offered her an arm. Despite the stereotypes that were frequently thrust upon men who served in the armed forces, I had been raised to be a gentleman and I refused to lower myself to anyone else's standards. Alice grasped the offered elbow, with a quick kiss on the cheek, and allowed me to lead her around the crowds.

Dinner was the typical affair. The food was great, the company even better, and I found myself relaxing exponentially; my earlier mood quickly forgotten. Alice always had that effect on people; her naturally energetic and friendly demeanor drew in everyone she came across with ease. Once again, I considered myself lucky to have met such a wonderful person and immersed myself in the playful banter and easy conversation.

"What's with the request to stop by the tattoo shop later?" Alice finally asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

"I was thinking about getting another tattoo and wanted to get it priced, and done, tonight if possible," I responded with a shrug of nonchalance. "Unless you had other plans; I know that movie you wanted to see hit theaters today and if you'd rather do that, it's fine."

"No, no. I don't mind going with you. In fact, I was thinking about getting a tattoo myself." She grinned shyly at me, picking at the Godiva Chocolate Cheesecake that still sat on the table in front of her. "I've been toying with the idea and trying – which has been a vain attempt, might I add – to work up the nerve."

I chuckled silently at the thought of Alice having to "work up the nerve" to do anything as I stole her dessert away and dug into it with fervor. "You know, Al, I can just picture a cute little fairy on your hip. It'd be fitting."

"Absolutely unoriginal is what it would be, Jasper Hale Whitlock, and I refuse to be another fucking cliché," she huffed out, arms crossing tightly over her chest. "Besides, I had Cyn draw something up for me. It's just the execution that I seem to be having trouble with." A frown marred her face as she watched me eat her dessert before she clapped her hands together forcefully, gesturing toward our waiter for the check. "We might as well get this over with now," she quipped, responding to my look of childlike petulance at not being able to finish the cheesecake. "Now stop pouting and get a move on. If we hurry, we might be able to catch the late showing of Public Enemies."

Her sweet and innocent smile, coupled with the fluttering of her eyelashes, belied her true intentions and I choked out a laugh, pushing the plate away. "That's fighting dirty, Miss Brandon, and you know it," I chastised her playfully, handing the waiter the folder containing our receipt with my credit card tucked inside. "Johnny Depp and Christian Bale in one movie is not something that can, in good conscience, be missed. Ever."

We made our way through the streets teeming with people back to our cars, laughter ringing out into the air around us. "Al, I honestly don't know where I'd be right now if I hadn't met you."

"You'd probably be sitting in some disgusting strip joint staring at your hands or the table while your friends leered at anything and everything with two legs," she stated rather bluntly, a serious look on her face before she burst into giggles. "And honestly, that's something that I'd really love to see."

"You'd love to see me looking all awkward and uncomfortable in a strip bar?" I asked with my eyebrow arched incredulously as I looked at her.

"Well, yea. It'd be interesting to see how you reacted to a situation like that. I'm not saying that you should do it, at least not with James or the rest of them. But, are you telling me that you aren't the least bit curious?" We were standing between both our cars now, my keys dangling from the tips of my fingers as I regarded her with scrutiny.

"Al, you ask that as if I've never seen a naked girl before."

"It was just a fleeting thought, J. No need to get your underwear all in a twist."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

We drove to the tattoo shop separately, Alice following behind me in her bright yellow Audi R8, music blaring out the open windows. I watched in my rearview mirror as she danced to Cyndi Lauper's Girls Just Wanna Have Fun and couldn't help laughing. It was a fitting song for her, and she hammed it up like no one else could not caring one bit if anyone could see her. A very big part of me wished that I could be as open as she was, not wasting time worrying about what other people thought or how they reacted.

One eighty's pop song later we were standing on the sidewalk, both staring at the door to Dark Side Tattoo. Nervous excitement suffused the air around us as Alice beat out a staccato rhythm with her fingernails against the hood of my car. Her face scrunched in contemplation and completely devoid of color.

"You know that you don't need to get anything tonight, right?" I asked, needing to comfort her in some way before she passed out on me. "It's not like I'm going to make fun of you if you don't go through with it." My hand captured hers, ceasing her incessant tapping as I laced our fingers together. "Let's just go in and see about getting mine done and if you feel comfortable, you can ask about getting one too."

"Right," she swallowed thickly, brushing her free hand through her hair and tugging on the array of spikes. "No commitments."

"Exactly! Now, let's get a move on before I toss you over my shoulder and carry you through those doors."

"That actually might be better; it seems as if my feet refuse to cooperate with my brain at the moment. If you don't mind, of course. But – uh – not over your shoulder. Turn around." I followed her directions, rolling my eyes as I faced the opposite end of the dark street stretched out before me. "Jas, you need to squat down … unless you're expecting me to climb up your back like you're some fucking tree." Exasperation rang in her voice as she grasped my shoulder and pulled down so that we were the same height.

I felt her arms come around my neck, hitching one leg over my hip while resting her head on my shoulder. "Ready when you are," she breathed out as I lifted her other leg, grasping both calves in my hands, and stood up.

"You're acting as if you're seconds away from facing a firing squad, Alice."

"Needles scare me," was her stilted response, fingernails digging into the skin just above the top of my shirt. "And before you say anything, my ears were pierced when I was a baby. I didn't have much choice in the matter."

We were standing just in front of the tinted glass door now, and I could feel the confusion on my face. "If you're scared of needles, why get a tattoo?" I asked, really fucking curious to hear her response.

"Face your fears and all that jazz," was her prompt reply, one dainty hand fluttering in the air around my face as she spoke. "I have to find a way to get over it some time, and I highly doubt I could just walk into the doctor's office and ask for a shot. They'd have me committed in a heartbeat." I watched in the window as she lifted her head off my shoulder and met the gaze of my reflection, resolve glinting in her steel-grey eyes. "Now, will you open this damn door already? I'm wearing a skirt for fucks sake and I've counted five cars pass by since we've been standing here."

"You kiss your mama with that mouth of yours?" I asked, repressing the chuckle that wanted to come out as I pulled the door open.

She snorted loudly, burying her face in my shoulder, her entire body shaking with laughter. "I could ask you the same thing, J," she finally managed to stutter out, wiping the tears that had gathered in the corner of her eye. As suddenly as it had started, her laughter stopped and a sharp gasp was expelled from her lips.

"What are –" My voice died in my throat when I turned my head to see what it was that had quieted the ever-excitable Alice Brandon. I felt her lithe body slide down my body, chest pressing into my back until her feet hit the floor, heels clacking loudly against the tile.

"Be with you in a moment; feel free to check out the art while you wait." The voice was masculine and husky, crushed velvet laced with pure sex. His words were interspersed with the persistent buzzing of a tattoo gun as he leaned over the table in front of him hard at work. Well worn blue cotton stretched across the taut, straining muscles of his back, a sliver of skin peeking out between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans. The distressed denim hung loosely around his hips, falling a fraction lower than it should have, but his current position provided a nice visual of what appeared to be a very nice ass. My footsteps faltered momentarily as I frantically tried to rein in the primal, yet normally dormant, instincts that were clamoring at me to just jump him. My eyes were the one apparently uncontrollable element, as they hungrily absorbed the array of inked designs, intertwined and vibrant against every visible inch of his fair skin. I could feel my fingers twitching; the desire to trace each one of those lines causing a physical reaction.

And then he stood up straight, back arching and arms in the air above him as he stretched before turning around. My breathing faltered as I took him in from heel to head. The deep blue shirt – which I'd previously admired, stretched across his back – clung to him, sleeves tight around his biceps and showcasing the amazing musculature of his chest. Wind bars curled sinuously around his left arm, merging into a delicate, Oriental inspired design of dragons, Koi fish and an intricate Japanese scroll. A five-line staff adorned his right, circling his forearm, inked notes telling a story to those who could speak the language. I watched, enraptured, as his fingers raked through his hair, tugging at the artful disarray of copper colored tresses. It was the perfect illustration of 'sex-hair' and I had to fight down the urge to walk over to him and run my own hands through it, reveling in the feel of his silky strands sliding through my own fingers.

I was so caught up in my blatant staring that I almost failed to notice Alice's incessant prodding of my back, the tip of her French tipped nail irritating the skin below my shirt. I tore my gaze away from the magnificent man standing in front of me, courteously inching away from the door to allow the previous client access, and looked to my side, my eyebrows raised in question. "Is there a problem, Al?"

"Not unless you consider standing here, completely fucking silent, for the past five minutes a problem?" Her witty and truthful retort caused a blush to heat my cheeks, face flaming from the embarrassment of being called out.

"I was –" I was what? Admitting to staring at the fucking Greek God of a tattooist standing behind the counter? Though true, I doubted confessing such would be in my best interest.

"No explanation necessary, J." A wink and a smile told me Alice knew exactly what I'd been doing. Of course she knew, she was Alice and Alice knew everything. "I think he's waiting for us, though." She nodded her head in the direction of the counter and bounced ahead of me to lean against the glass. Her melodic voice carried over to me, the timber of his words interjecting every so often. I finally collected my shit and walked up behind her slowly, admiring all the pieces of art that decorated the surrounding walls while I steeled myself to enter the conversation.

"You're going first," Alice informed me with a poke in the side, interrupting my musings. "I'm not quite feeling that comfort you spoke about outside yet."

I nodded, swallowing thickly as I thought of –

"And this is Edward Cullen, the tattoo artist here."

Edward. The antiquated name fit him.

"He's informed me that there are no other appointments tonight, so I guess you should explain to him what it is you want."

In that moment, I was grateful for Alice's no-nonsense attitude and presence but also almost wishing that I hadn't invited her. If I'd walked in here alone, I doubted I would've been able to go through with it. Any of it. Just the thought of having Edward's hands on my body, even in the most innocent of ways, lit a fire within me. It had been far too fucking long since I'd been with another man and standing here now made me feel the price of all those years of applied restraint. With Alice here, I couldn't back down. She was persistent to a fault and would push me until I gave in. Plus, if I was being honest with myself, despite the fact that I wasn't sure if I'd be able to handle having him touch me, I wanted his hands all over me.

It hadn't escaped my notice that throughout the back and forth between Alice and me, he'd remained steadfast and quiet, eyes lingering on the pair of us; keenly observing, questions dancing in his deep jade irises. A smile flirted at the edge of Edward's lips as Alice kept up a running commentary on everything that decorated the tiny shop, and for a moment, I wished that I could hear what he was thinking. The way he watched Alice move around the room, brimming with excitement and curiosity, had me seeing green and I cleared my throat loudly to gain his attention.

"Sorry about that," he murmured, returning full attention to me, the truth of his words apparent in his features. "She just seems the type that commands center stage the moment she sets foot in any room." I nodded in acquiescence, pulling the piece of wrinkled computer paper from my pocket and smoothing it along the counter top. Metal clicking against metal caught my attention and, from the corner of my eye, I watched as he nudged the ball of his tongue ring against a thin hoop in the corner of his lip. My eyes glazed over and I could feel my heart pounding erratically in my chest, sweat gathering at my brow line.

"I - uh –" I paused for a moment, trying to get a grip on my overt reactions to this man. "This is the basic idea of what I want. The lettering is already done, I've had it since I was eighteen, but I wanted to touch it up, make it darker. I was also thinking about adding a little color to it, in the shading maybe?"

The clicking ceased as Edward leaned forward, one palm flat against the counter while his fingers ghosted over the back of my hand. I inhaled deeply through my nose, his light, momentary touch causing an angry horde of butterflies to erupt in my stomach. Edward fingered the paper, head tilted to one side as he studied it inquisitively. "How do you feel about a solid black outline and a crimson red, like blood, for the shading? Possibly making it look like it's blistering from the flames?" I could feel his fingers flitting against the skin of my forearm as he outlined what he pictured for the overall look of the tattoo. "The flames … you could have a few falling away, down toward your wrist and ending in the star."

I studied the drawing for a moment before answering – an attempt at regaining my quickly fading composure – as I tried to imagine how what he'd described would look on me. "I really like that," I finally responded, exhaling in a quick huff when he moved his hand.

His finger brushed over the drawing again, tracing the sides of the nautical star, a pensive look on his face. "Do you know what some people believe the modern definition of a nautical star tattoo is?" I knew what meaning he was referring to just as sure as I knew my own name. I hadn't, however, expected to be questioned about it. The design was typical for service men and women, an allegory of protection and guidance. That was the easy explanation for my decision, the same explanation that curious co-workers and friends would be getting if they ever cared enough to ask. Right now, though, I didn't know how to respond. Would my admission provoke further questions, ones that I wasn't quite sure I was ready to answer?

"You don't have to answer that question," his words broke through my silent ruminations, bringing me back to the present as he slid the design out from under my hand. "I'll need to measure the existing ink before I can prepare the stencil." His lips curved up into a deliciously crooked smirk as he studied me. "Just take a seat over at my station." He gestured toward a chair in the corner, a playful glint lightening his captivating eyes. Such obvious enjoyment made me assume he really loved his job.

Edward worked steadily for the next few moments, gaze traveling back and forth between the design I'd brought in and the ink already present on my arm. Every so often the back of his hand would brush across mine causing me to exhale sharply, eyes sliding closed in reverence as his touch lingered. I could feel goose bumps erupting up and down my rigid form and couldn't stop the slight shiver that followed.

"Is this what you envisioned?" His voice was much closer than I'd expected and I opened my eyes to find his face, green irises glimmering in the light, right in front of mine. I nearly groaned out loud as I inhaled deeply, his smell permeating my senses; ink and paper mixed with the clean scent of soap. It was absolutely mouthwatering and it took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to pull him into me at that moment. I wanted to taste him, touch him, and feel every inch of his pale, inked flesh beneath my own.

"It's –" I cleared my throat quickly, pushing the sudden influx of nerves aside. "That's exactly what I had in mind."

Edward smiled again, a full one this time and his face glowed with pride. "Just give me a second to set everything up and we'll get started."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

I relaxed further into the chair, breathing deeply and willing my body not to respond to the nearness of his. It was a futile attempt, and I could only pray that it went unnoticed. His long fingers were wrapped around my elbow, holding it steady; the monotonous buzzing of the tattoo gun piercing the otherwise fairly quiet room. Alice was seated on my opposite side, one hand resting on my thigh, her wide eyes watching the needle's progress.

"That doesn't hurt, J?" She asked in a whisper, fear creeping into her voice as she flinched away.

"It's like a dull stinging, I suppose; not painful, though, just a little uncomfortable." I focused, then, on Edward's hands; the light brushing of his knuckles against my forearm and the pleasurable grasp on the curve of my arm. A steady thrum of electricity ran through me, a constant from the first moment he'd touched me earlier. I watched as he swept his tongue across his lower lip, deep in concentration, every pass tempting and taunting me mercilessly. He had been quiet through the duration, his eyes fluttering from his work on my arm to my face and then over to Alice, pausing occasionally to bite down on the bar through his tongue before continuing with his task.

"How long have the two of you been dating?" He asked nonchalantly, feigning intense focus, fingers contracting and releasing.

"I – we – what I mean is that –" I continued to stutter, trying desperately to find a way to answer this question without tying Alice to me in any way. It appeared to me that they had a mutual liking for each other and who was I to stand in the way of that? Had I not been thinking just hours prior that Alice deserved the happiness that being in a legitimate relationship would bring? Of course, I hadn't considered that the first person she'd show interest in since I'd made it clear that there was no future for her and I would be someone that I so desperately wanted to feel against my own body. Preferably nude.

"What I believe he's trying to say is that we aren't dating." It was a statement – a true statement – but it hurt for reasons that I couldn't seem to articulate. "Best friends, definitely. There's no one that knows me better than Jasper and vice-versa."

"Really?" Edward's tone was laced with confusion as his sure movements faltered, the green of his eyes darkening infinitesimally as they met the blue of my own. "I was sure that you two were, you know, together. The way you came in here, carrying her on your back like that." It had been Alice who had answered his initial question, but it was me he responded to, something heady clouding his lingering stare.

"I asked him to carry me because of the whole 'fear of needles' thing. My feet wouldn't cooperate with my brain." Alice shrugged, turning her attention to me again. "Do you want me to call and find out what time the last showing of the movie is?" I nodded my head mutely, once again wishing that she wasn't here, even if just for a second.

"You're more than welcome to join us, Edward." Her phone was pressed to her ear, pink and white lights flashing brightly along the side. "We're watching Public Enemies." The look on her face was one of intense scrutiny as she watched Edward, analytical almost, as if his answer would end the recession or solve world hunger.

"I wouldn't want to impose." The buzzing of the gun stopped and he wiped the blood and excess ink off my arm one final time before retrieving a mirror from his workstation. "What do you think?"

I was, quite honestly, at a complete loss for words. He'd taken the simple concept I'd handed him and turned it into something otherworldly. I'd heard rumors, of course, that the owner and operator of Dark Side Tattoo was the best in his trade, at least in the Islands. But seeing it firsthand, on my body, was an experience in and of itself. "It's – fuck –" My words trailed off and I didn't miss the way Edward's focus dropped to my mouth, an emotion flitting over his face too quickly for me to put a name to. "It's fucking perfect. I – thank you."

"It was truly my pleasure, Jasper," he replied, that fucking smirk back in place on his gorgeous face. "Trust me." I stared at him for a moment longer, propriety warring with the absolute, carnal need that I felt. I wanted him, consequences be damned. I'd spent far too long and worked much too hard over the years, denying everything that I was for appearances sake. Now, though, staring into the eyes of the first man in a long time to evoke such a reaction from me, the world I lived in and the things that I wanted were shifting. I couldn't look past him or what reacting this way meant for me one minute longer.

The tinkling cadence that belonged solely to Alice successfully broke the moment, and my attention was drawn to the tiny woman that stood just inside the doorway. One hand was planted firmly on her hip as the other flailed in the air – her rarely used Bluetooth clipped over one ear – agitation clear in her features. "Fine, I'll be home soon," she finally huffed, tugging again at her wayward strands. "I'm still in town so it'll take me awhile, but I'm coming."

I rose from my seat quickly, pausing momentarily when I felt a slight pressure across my ass followed by a ghostly chuckle. Shaking those thoughts aside, I strolled over to Alice swiftly, tugging her hand from her hair. "Sugar, if you keep doing that you're going to go prematurely bald."

Alice sighed, her hand falling to the side as she leaned her head against my chest. "I have to go. That was Cyn on the phone and she's absolutely beside herself. I couldn't understand a word she was saying except the repeated pleas for me to come home."

"It's perfectly fine, Al. You do what you have to do and we can go to the movies another time." She nodded in concession, leaning back slightly, her eyes flickering between Edward and me rapidly. After a moment's thought, she smiled brightly, patting my hand lightly.

"Walk me out, J? It's late and I don't know this area very well." I detected a hint of something else in her request, but didn't question it. Even if she hadn't asked, the gentleman in me wouldn't have allowed her to venture outside, in the middle of the night on such a deserted street, alone. We walked to her car, side by side, both of us seemingly lost in thought. Reaching the driver's side quickly, I plucked the keys that she'd pulled from her purse out of her hand and opened her door.

"Jasper," Alice's hand brushed against my cheek softly, pain emanating from her entire being as she stood there, one foot in the car and the other on solid asphalt. "I know that there was never a chance for us but, I've always wanted you to be happy. You can go on and on about how this –" she tapped pointedly on the dog tags that lay hidden beneath my shirt; "– is what you want, but I know better. You're not happy, not truly at least, and you won't be until you can be yourself. Stop masquerading, it's not very becoming." The smile that lit up her face off-set the harsh truth of her words and I was thankful for that. "Besides, J, there's a hot piece of ass in that shop that wants you, and if I know my best friend – and I do – you want him just as bad. Take him to the movies instead; you don't need me being an awkward, chattering third-wheel." With a kiss on the cheek and an ominous "trust me, I know," she disappeared into the dark interior of her car and pulled away from the curb seconds later.

I walked back to the shop, barely registering my movements, deep in thought. I never imagined that my inner turmoil would be so obvious to anyone but myself. Then again, Alice wasn't like every other person I knew. She was perceptive and observant, intuitive almost to a fault. It should've come as no surprise that she'd recognized this and call me on it without hesitation.

"Is everything okay?" I stared at Edward's inquiring mouth, not realizing that, while lost in thought, I'd made my way back inside and was leaning against the counter.

"Yea, she just had to get home … something happened with her sister." I ran a hand over my head roughly, wondering about how I should go about inviting Edward to the movies with me. Would it seem too presumptuous? And what if she was wrong about him? Though, to be fair, she'd never been wrong about things before, at least not when they mattered. But there was a first time for everything, and I wasn't sure if I could bear being rejected by this man.

"I was – uh –" I paused, trying desperately to gather my thoughts. "I know Alice mentioned going to the movies earlier and … well, I have –"

I stopped mid-rant as Edward's face inched closer to mine, our bodies separated by the long counter between us. His warm breath washed over me and my eyes shifted down instinctively as my hands clutched at the counter's edge in an effort to keep myself grounded. I knew that if I met his eyes, I would see that same smug look, lips curved crookedly as he stared me down. I could practically taste him on my tongue; sweat and ink and just Edward. I felt his hand come up and brush against my forearm, finger tracing the outline of the nautical star he'd just permanently engraved on me. "Is it safe to assume that you do know what some consider the modern meaning behind such a tattoo?"

I bowed my head further in confirmation, wondering at how I'd misjudged his intentions earlier in the night. I had been certain that it was Alice he wanted with the way he'd watched her so intently; almost as observant in her every move as she had been with his.

"Is that the reason you got it; the meaning behind the design as a whole?"

I nodded, unable to respond in any other way. My arms ached from the death grip I had on the metal framing but my brain had stopped firing on all pistons the moment he'd moved closer to me, the blood rushing to my groin, the honesty of the moment weighing on me. Edward's fingers still moved along my forearm, trailing heat and spark, the flames threatening to devour me.

"Truth." It was a statement; a fact with no other meaning to derive from it. It was the cause of my contempt and utter shame, but in this moment, with his skin on mine and his lascivious gaze piercing me, everything else fell away. Only Edward and I remained, locked in some sort of battle of wills confined in this tiny space. The heat that he trailed along my flesh with every touch threatened to consume me entirely. I had never wanted anything as much as I wanted him in this moment.

"Look at me, Jasper." His lips moved against my ear, and unable to deny him anything, I lifted my head, blinking rapidly as the harsh fluorescent light assaulted me. "You were asking me something?"

"The – uh –" I couldn't think straight. My mind was a chaotic mess of soundless visions, awash in desperate longing. He was right there; lips hovering inches from mine, the silver orb peeking out between them. And I was so fucking hard from nothing more than his feathery touches, heady scent and that smug as fuck smile. "Movie?" It was a breathy exhale, all air and no substance.

"What do you really want?" A war raged internally; desire against decorum, intrigue against uncertainty. Edward was prodding me to react and I was powerless to resist. With a breathless "you," I pressed my lips to his as my hands ran up his arms, settling comfortably on his shoulder. After a moment's hesitation, Edward's lips began moving with my own. The kiss was a slow and sensual build-up, triggering the sensitivity of every single nerve ending I possessed. He traced my lower lip, tentatively at first, the coolness of his tongue ring causing a groan to erupt deep in my chest. My dick was hard and throbbing insistently, pressed between my body and the front of the display case, as his hands moved behind my neck, pulling me closer. I opened my mouth to his, swallowing his ceaseless moans as our tongues met, tangling together in tandem.

Edward broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against mine as his fingers ran back and forth beneath the chain around my neck. "I didn't think you had it in you," he murmured, eyes alight with lust. "But, this counter is in the way and I don't think my chair would be very comfortable for what I have in mind now."

I was breathing heavily, my mind still caught up in the feel of that fucking fantastic kiss, as I fought to process what Edward had said. "What –" He caught my bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on it softly, before I could finish my question.

"You're free to say no," his breath caressed my face as he pulled away again, eyes imploring and vulnerable at the same time. "But, do you want to get out of here? I don't live far and here –" one hand fell from the back of my neck, gesturing around the room, "– probably isn't the best place for this."

I wanted to say yes, every cell in my body was screaming at me to reply in the affirmative – toss caution to the wind and just live for the moment. Alice's earlier words ran through my mind unimpeded as I contemplated my answer. You're not happy, not truly at least, and you won't be until you can be yourself. "Remind me to buy Alice a pair of shoes, or something," I finally muttered, sliding my hands back down his arms slowly. "Now let's get out of here."

His answering smile was brilliant as Edward unwound his hands from around my neck and rocked back on his heels. "Let me cover that tattoo up first," he responded, fingertips brushing over it again lightly. "And I'll meet you out front after I lock up."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

We pulled into the parking garage of the Waikiki Townhouse high rise not long after as I followed behind him, desperate to feel his touch again. I could still taste him on my lips – in my mouth – and I needed more. Any previous hesitations I'd had all but dissipated the moment he pulled me in. I slid into the stall beside his, putting my car in park and turning it off hastily. The interior of his Mustang GT Convertible lit up, the illumination throwing his features into sharp relief. As he opened the door, an unwarranted moan escaped my lips. He was so fucking beautiful; that was really the only way to describe him, masculine or not.

I tried to get out of the car slowly, with a measure of control, but my movements were rushed and excited. Edward stood by the trunk watching me, predatorily as one of his hands slid beneath the hem of his shirt. The unconscious movements of his hand brushing across his lower abdomen drew my attention downwards. As I gulped audibly, he smirked, turning on his heel and began walking toward the elevator bays along the far wall.

I was still frozen in place, trying to remember how to breathe correctly as I admired his built back and firm, round ass. Finally, I abandoned my daze to follow him; my lungs still constricting as we approached his building. "I thought you'd changed your mind for a second there," Edward murmured, his hand brushing across the front of my jeans absently as we stepped into the waiting elevator.

"Not a chance," I responded, wrapping my hand around his wrist and pulling it higher, proving the honesty of my words. "I don't particularly feel like taking care of this on my own."

"Mmm, now that'd be a travesty," his lips grazed the side of my neck softly as he spoke, my body trembling at the contact. At the resounding ding of the elevator, Edward moved away from me, walking backwards into the hall. "Coming?" His lips curved into a teasing smile, full of innuendo and promise, as he leaned against the door directly across the hall.

"Not yet," I muttered as I followed him, both my hands resting palms on either side of his head. "The night is still young, though." Edward crushing his lips to mine was his only response. Purposefully and proficient, one of his talented hands wrapped around my back, fisting my shirt, while the other blindly worked his key into the lock behind him. My mouth found his jaw line with lips and teeth, feeling the light stubble that covered his chin as it scratched against the side of my face.

The door opened suddenly, slamming into the wall behind it as we both tumbled through the entryway. "Shit," he murmured lowly, grabbing onto the side table to steady himself while closing the door, fumbling to slide the deadbolt into place. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers running languidly through the hair at the nape as he reversed our positions, trapping me against the door this time with his entire body. "I think I like this position," Edward whispered in my ear, running his tongue around my lobe before biting it softly. I could feel the evidence of just how much he liked our position pressing into my hip, and I moaned out loud as I grabbed his ass to pull him closer.

"Fuck, Jasper," he hissed, grinding his pelvis into mine harshly. Our kisses were frenzied, absolute need taking precedence over everything else. I slid my hands up his long torso toward his back, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it up over his head as we broke apart momentarily. Following my lead, Edward repeated my actions, tossing my shirt to the side as soon as it was free. I attacked his chest, suckling and tasting his skin with ardor. I could feel him fumbling with the button and zipper on my jeans before finally getting it undone and pushing them down.

We were both breathing heavily, sharp gasps punctuating the air between us. Edward traced the well-defined contours of my abdomen deftly, sliding his right hand beneath the waistband of my boxers while he licked and sucked at the hollow of my throat. I was moaning freely as he palmed my rock hard cock, my head falling to his shoulder. "God, that feels good." My voice was rough with arousal as my hips bucked forward, needing to feel more.

I reached down between us, wresting him from his jeans swiftly. A low growl broke free as I glanced down; fully realizing my hand was only meeting skin. "Commando?" I asked breathlessly, lifting my head to rest against the door so I could see his face.

"I don't see you complaining," Edward quipped as he wrapped his hand around my cock, stroking me teasingly.

"Not at all," I drawled out, running my hands down his chest, fingers lazily tracing the intertwined Tribal patterns. My train of thought was interrupted as his motions sped up, my dick growing impossibly harder at the action. "God … fuck," I growled out, eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"God's not here," warm breath ghosted over the side of my face as Edward spoke quietly, lips moving down to the erratically thudding pulse point in my neck. "But, I am." His thumb slid over my tip, spreading the pre-cum before continuing his ministrations. A thin sheen of sweat emerged on the skin beneath his tongue and insistent, wandering fingers making me consider my trembling legs and blurry vision. It was a wonder I was coherent at all.

Edward didn't slow the motion of his hand enveloping my shaft from base to head, but did maneuver an inch of space between us so he could find my eyes. "We should take this to my room," he whispered, licking along the underside of my jaw. I nodded in concession, at this point willing to follow him anywhere, as he wrapped his arms around me to lead by the waist instead of by my swollen dick.

Reaching the room first, and then his bed, Edward pushed me lightly onto the downy blankets, straddling me before I'd hardly made contact. Naked, firm, and – god – so hard, his body pressed me into the mattress and my mouth filled with his hot breath and seeking tongue. I wrapped my hands around his hips and pressed him into me, needing the delicious friction of our cocks rocking together. "Fuck, that feels good," he muttered, as he ground into me harder, desperately.

I tugged his hair at the roots as he bit down on my nipple softly before sucking it into his mouth. Gripping one another tightly - his hold on my shoulders, mine venturing to his parting ass - our encouraging moans and helpless pants reverberated through the room. Edward's name fell from my lips in hoarse pants as he moved down my body, tracing the dips and lines of my stomach and caressing across my hipbones. Following his lead, I lifted my hips subconsciously as he tugged on the waistband of my boxers, sliding them over and down my legs and tossing them to the floor.

I gasped loudly, breath heavy and fucking frenetic, as he ran the tip of his nose along the underside of my dick. Angling my head down, I watched as his tongue circled the head of my cock, his intense gaze focused on my face.

"Fuck, Edward. Please … more," I groaned, head falling back in pure bliss as soon as his mouth was full with my cock. His tongue flitted back and forth, massaging me as his head bobbed up and down. I felt his hand come around me again, gripping me at the base. My eyes closed tightly, reveling in the feel of his hot mouth on me, around me, all fucking teeth and tongue and lips. I couldn't control the incoherencies that were erupting from my mouth unchecked as he hummed around me, the vibrations causing me to thrust into his mouth.

"Oh fuck – God, don't fucking stop," I begged, hands gripping his hair tightly, guiding him as he continued sucking, harder and faster. Edward took me deeply, the tip of my cock hitting the back of his throat with every thrust, the ball of his tongue ring connecting with the underside of my shaft more, as I fucked his mouth. His hand continued moving up and down, meeting his lips halfway as the other snaked between my legs and began massaging my sack. I was utterly lost in the moment, broken, breathless pleas for him to continue pouring out into the atmosphere. I was so fucking close, I could feel my erection growing harder, throbbing in his mouth and, fuck, it felt so good. If only it would never end and I could come, that would heaven.

"Fuck." Acknowledging the depth required to actually feel his nose brushing against my pelvis like it was doing now had me coming hard down his throat. "Oh my fucking God," I growled out as I finished pulsing and he released me from his mouth with a pop, licking his lips with a smile. I struggled to control my breathing as he crawled back up my body lithely, attacking my mouth with an enthusiastic kiss before lying beside me.

I brushed my hand back and forth over his still hard cock, more than ready to return the favor, until he stopped me, a lazy grin on his face. "Later," he whispered softly, nibbling at my chin with his teeth. "The night's still young, remember?"

A/N: *ahem* So, um, did ya like? All the places used above are real places, just so you know. My nerves are absolutely shot. Review and let me know what you think, bbs.

Verum Quod Eventus: Literal translation is "Truth and Outcome" but roughly translates to "Truth and Consequence."

Veritas: Truth

Don't Ask, Don't Tell: The common term for the policy about homosexuality in the U.S. military mandated by federal law Pub.L. 103-160 (10 U.S.C. § 654). Unless one of the exceptions from 10 U.S.C. § 654(b) applies, the policy prohibits anyone who "demonstrate(s) a propensity or intent to engage in homosexual acts" from serving in the armed forces of the United States, because "it would create an unacceptable risk to the high standards of morale, good order and discipline, and unit cohesion that are the essence of military capability." The act prohibits any homosexual or bisexual person from disclosing his or her sexual orientation or from speaking about any homosexual relationships, including marriages or other familial attributes, while serving in the United States armed forces. The "don't ask" part of the policy indicates that superiors should not initiate investigation of a service member's orientation in the absence of disallowed behaviors, though mere suspicion of homosexual behavior can cause an investigation. (Source: Wikipedia)

SSG: Acronym for the Army Rank "Staff Sergeant"

Nautical Star: The nautical stars were originally used by sailors to help guide their way as they sailed through the night. They relied upon the stars to protect them and bring them home safely. A lot of soldiers get nautical stars for the same reason... protection. It is a symbol of protection and guidance. However, in recent years, claims have been made that the nautical star is a symbol for homosexuality.

Personal Note: Whether or not the Nautical Star is actually a representation of homosexuality is debatable and not widely accepted.

Flames/Fire: As a tattoo design Flames or Fire may represent transformation, destruction, change, passion, a beacon of light and knowledge and serve as a warning to the wearer.