Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or anything to do with it, however the OC's are all my own. The concept of Jasper being the 'God of War' is something that I've read in a few fics, but I don't know where it originates, so I'm sorry for not giving credit where credit's due! Plus, I have no idea what Louisiana, or Wisconsin are like - I'm from England, so please, forgive any mistakes. Have a great day, and I love you guys!

LEMONS! WARNING: LEMON BELOW!

Camilla POV

December 2020

Houston, Texas

Lying in bed, so warm, so comfy. Arms draped around my bare waist, fingers running through my hair, brushing my scalp. Lips at my ear. A quick pulse beneath my cheek. Blushing skin on blushing skin. A light kiss here, a soft touch there. Love. Comfort. Warmth.

A sudden jerking sensation sent my body juddering forward, sharply, my arms flailing in the air, and my heart thundering in my chest. Something was shaking my shoulder, softly. A male voice cooed, soothingly, "Wake up, Darlin'. We've arrived."

Blinking away the blurriness that had overran my vision, I sat up, feeling the stiffness and general discomfort settle in my body, even as I rolled and rubbed at my aching joints. I don't really remember when I fell asleep, but I knew, from the sudden inkiness of the sky, that I had slept through part the night. Jasper had picked me up an noon and we drove straight through the day and the night. I stayed awake with him, happy just to be in his presence, however I couldn't stay awake past twenty-four hours, and I had to have fallen asleep. I didn't know how Jasper had done it. I mean, we did stop off for dinner and a late breakfast, but beyond that, he hadn't slept, and he was still functioning. He had to have taken something to keep himself alert, and it worried me, greatly. Jasper had driven through the night and I could have died in my sleep. I opened my mouth to ask about how in God's name he had gotten us here without, you know, imminent death, but I was overtaken by a sudden rush of dizziness.

Stepping, shakily, out of the Mustang, I found that what I was stepping onto was a stiff, dry dirt-road. Doing a quick three-sixty, I took in my surroundings, quickly, and found them to be a strange mix between familiar and foreign. Gnawing on my lower lip, worrying the muscle, I asked, softly, my throat still somewhat rough from sleep, "Where are we?"

Jasper wrapped his strong arms around my middle and hauled me on top of the hood of his Mustang, and stood between my legs, his hands playing with the lapels of his jacket, that was draped over my shoulders. He pressed a long, languid kiss to my lips, our tongues battling in a flurry of motion and the heat generated between us was growing, like a kindle -lit fire. Once we broke apart, he lay his hands on my hips, and replied, against my lips, "My home town. Houston, Texas. Char lived in Austin, nearly a hundred and seventy miles down the way," long fingers pointed due East, and he smirked, as his eyes trailed over my features, longingly, "But we all chipped in an' bought this little house right here."

Glimpsing at the house in front of us, I whispered, "Seriously? It's beautiful!"

The skies seemed to have been painted a dark orange and pink mixture. The air was cold and brisk, and it combated the homely appearance of the plantation home in front of me. The flats had been painted a pristine white and the large door had been coloured a deep brown. The traditional entryway was in the shape of a triangle and stood high above out heads. The windows were ochre-tinted and framed by brown panes and covered in slats. Surrounding the property were high, lofty, powerful oak trees, covered with snow and the brown, decaying leaves that had been frosted over due to the cold, coated the hard ground. The rolling hills were coated with snow and hard grass, and I fought away the urge to run through the pure white snow.

He laughed, and started nipping at my neck and collar bones, feverishly, "Ain't it, though?"

Running my fingers through the sides of his hair, following the curls and tufts in fascination. Softly, I asked, "Can we go inside? It's a little cold."

He breathed against my neck, his hair brushing against my skin, making my nipples harden inside of my shirt, and my toes curled within my sneakers, and my finger itch to touch and trace more than just the lapel of his shirt. "I'm sorry, I kind of forget about that stuff sometimes."

He didn't let me stand, funnily enough, but thought it pertinent to grasp me by my ass, and carry me inside. I wrapped my legs around his waist and I tucked my face in his neck and ran my fingers through his hair. I barely remember him fumbling with his keys or even getting the door open, but before I knew it, he was jogging up the two flights of stairs in record time, with me bobbing in his lap, and our lips meshing together in a furious flurry of warm muscle and heated flesh. He breathed, as he pushed open the door, to what I assumed was his bedroom, "You're so fuckin' beautiful, you know that?"

Grinding myself against him, like a wanton horny dog, I whined, lowly, in my throat, and nipped at his neck, sucking at the skin, feeling his hardness rub at the apex of my thighs. The thin material of my pants offered next to no shielding from the heat being generated between the two of us, and as he thrust me against the door, roughly, I thought I would die right then and there.

I heard a loud clatter, but paid it next to no mind, and I felt him tear off the jacket that was adorned over my shoulders, and went about tearing away my clothes, like a rabid, animalistic madman.

I nipped at his neck and asked, well, it was more like I sighed, into his ear, "You want to fuck me?"

"God, yes," he sighed, as he hefted my shirt over my head, my hair tie coming loose and falling out, on the way. His hands tightened on my hips, and he said, his breathing laboured, "I want to do more than that. I want to ruin you, I want to build you up and break you down. I want to make you mine, is that so hard to understand?"

I shook my head and murmured, "No."

He smiled, and bumped our noses together, softly, and asked, earnestly, "So, do you?"

"Jas," I whispered, leaning down towards his ear, "I've been waiting for this for months. Get me out of these clothes now, and make me yours, damn it."

He stilled, and stared at me, as if I had grown a second head. I raised a brow, and smirked, softly, leaning down to kiss his marble smooth lips. Tenderly, I whispered, "I'm not going to wait all night, Jasper."

He shook his head, seeming to snap out of whatever dream that had claimed him, and walked me over to the bed, my shirt forgotten. Once I was on my back, he pressed a loving kiss to my temple, as he, shamelessly, ogled my flushing chest, and palmed the supple skin of my hips as he slid my leggings from my body.

Tenderly, he kissed down my chest, in between the valley of my breasts, leading all the way to my bellybutton. He nipped at my ribs, and tightened his already firm hold on my body. I felt something wet circle the dip in my stomach, and as I glanced down, the ache between my thighs increasing to the point of almost delirium, I saw his hot, pink tongue go to work. He palmed my thighs, his hold sturdy and experienced, and raised them, so they were perched on his shoulders.

Softly, he whispered, against the flesh of my thigh, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end as he did so, "Darlin'. If you don't feel comfortable with something, tell me, and I'll stop."

Nodding, unable to speak properly, I arched my back off of my bed, my body curving into a strange, taut 'C' shape, and I felt his cool breath as he exhaled out a laugh. His talented fingers slipped into the sides of my panties, and shimmied them down my legs, kissing and touching me the whole way down. He sat up on his knees, and clasped his hands around the back of my knees, in a slack, yet demanding grip.

"Up here," he jabbed his thumb at his face, sternly, "You look at me, only me, nowhere else. My name on your lips, my face in your mind. Me, making you come."

Nodding, I licked my dry lips, and stuttered, "J-just you. I know."

He breathed out a slick smirk, and said, "Good."

It was dark; the only illumination coming from the moon above us, shining through the closed window, and I sighed, softly, feeling loved for the first time in years.

Without thinking, I blurted, "You're beautiful."

He chuckled, delicately, as he reached down to unzip his jeans, and said, "Thanks, but you're probably the most stunnin' thang I've ever had the pleasure of seein', Darlin'."

Chewing on my lower lip, I sat up, my legs falling, and tucking beneath me, so I was in the same position as him, on my knees, and I reached over to him, to pull his shirt over his head. He tensed, immediately, as I did so, and I winced, then asked, inaudibly, "Why?"

He moved my hands away, and looked at something behind my head, "I've got scars. Alotta them, sugar."

Tilting my head to the side, I moved into his line of vision, purposefully, and asked, seriously, thinking the absolute worst, "What from?"

He turned his head away from me, and spat, bitterly, "…A car accident."

My hand flew up to my mouth, and I admonished him with a sharp hit to the shoulder, and yelled, worriedly, "Why didn't you ever tell me about it?"

He breathed out a sad smile, and said, "'Cause. You think I'm beautiful, an' if I told you, I'd hate to see the disgust in your eyes. So please.. Can-Can I just.. Not?"

"Jazz," I said, resolutely, my hand resting on his smooth, cool cheek, "I haven't told you this before. And I'm only gonna say it once, so listen up, okay?"

He gave me a crooked half-grin that made my throat constrict, tightly, and I stuttered, with difficulty, "I-I l-love you. All of you. All the scars. Anger issues included. It doesn't matter if you're crazy possessive, or stubborn, because I'm still going to be here. You're mine, and I love you. Can you trust in that?"

His jaw tightened as he fought away the urge to.. Well, I don't know. He wouldn't cry - he wasn't that kind of guy. It wasn't like he needed to bawl at me feet to let me know he was feeling low. It was like there was something he wanted to tell me, but he couldn't find the words, and it was frustrating him, if the thrumming of his jaw line said anything. Sexy, but very disconcerting.

Instead of focusing on whatever thoughts were rushing through his head, he slipped his jacket over his shoulders, making eyes widen in surprise. He couldn't look at me, but I couldn't have that. I didn't want him like this. Tightening my hold on his jaw, I turned his face towards my own, and I kissed the skin beneath his closed eyes. His forehead slotted on my shoulder, and I cradled his golden curls in my hands. He breathed, heavily, "I don't know.. I'm trying."

Kissing his cool temple, I pleaded, quietly, "Let me help you."

I tugged at the hem of his thermal, tight shirt, and, after a moment of deliberation, he let me peel it away, revealing alabaster, sinewy, tightly stretched muscle that covered the strong, powerful planes of his chest. Pale pink nipples, and washboard abs stood out, prominently, to my hawk-like eyes. My vision tunnelled, and my mouth became dry as I drank him in. A light dusting of hair fell from his navel, and submerged beneath the waistband of his jeans, hidden from my sight. Unable to help myself, I ran my fingers over his forearms, feeling them ripple at my action, and I pouted slightly.

His scars were there - prominent, and silvery against his pale, otherwise flawless skin. They attacked his forearms and biceps, especially on the right-hand side. They criss-crossed, making a sort of abstract pattern, curving and curling against one another, and only slightly raised off of his skin, kind of like permanent, thin whelps on his body. His left pectoral was covered in them, but I didn't care - not much anyway. If anything, it made him all the more real in my eyes, and instead of making me feel disgust, or fear, or whatever he thought I could have felt towards him, I simply swelled with pride and infinite amounts of love and affection. The only thing that I was somewhat perturbed by was the fact that he didn't tell me. As if he thought something so petty, so small, so insignificant in relation to the whirlwind of feelings that swelled inside of me every time he so much as glanced my way, could sway me from his side. Leaning down, I pressed a light sprinkling of kisses along his hairless chest, and closed my eyes as I breathed in the true scent of his skin.

This was the first time that Jasper had shown his entire self to me, and I was getting excited. I needed to gain some more control over myself.

He sucked in a deep breath, and choked, "You.. You really d-don't mind?"

Running my fingers through his hair, I said, honestly, "No, dummy. Come here."

He held me tighter. He nuzzled his nose in my collar. He pinched, and nipped, and bit, and licked every part of my body, feeling my insides burn with barely kept longing and desire. I was desperate for him. For every part of him. So much so that I could barely breathe. Time passed so much slower than I thought, and I found myself grinding against his fingers, as they pumped in-and-out of my body at an unrelenting pace. Quicker, then slower, then quicker, then just as I felt sparks within my body, he would grin and suck on my collarbone, and stare at me, through his lashes, and kiss and nip at my stomach. Shamelessly, I begged, pleaded, with tears lining in my eyes, "Please. Please. Pleasepleaseplease please, Jasper. I cant take it. Don't play with me, please."

His tongue soon joined his fingers, for the third time that night, and my already sensitive bundle of nerves that collected at the apex of my thighs shrieked in pleasure, as I came. My legs shook on his shoulders, like they were being stung by a thousand tiny shocks, and I tightened my grip in my hair, of which I was sure was an absolute mess.

"I've got you.. Its okay."

He didn't have to say anything else for me to calm down. My chest stopped heaving, but my pulse didn't slow in the slightest. Jasper reclined back, on his knees, and stared down at me for a long moment, contemplating something, his lower lip glistening and his eyes shining with amusement and pride. He leaned forward, his tongue snaking out from between his lips and he licked a stripe up the side of my neck, nipping at my ears while his hands trailed down the length of my body. I exhaled, hotly, into his ear and he groaned, low and long, while grinding his jean-clad erection against my hip. I babbled, tears stinging my eyes, "Jasper, please..."

He paused, his back tensing under my fingers, then I felt him grin against my skin. He reclined slightly, so our noses were close enough to touch, and he said, leaning in, our lips a breath apart, "I promise, I'll make you feel so good."

After a chaste kiss, he pulled away to sit on his haunches and unbuckled his belt, the ripple of the bunch of tightly coiled muscles in his forearms made my mouth feel dry. There was no sluggishness about his educated movements, and after he kicked off his jeans and hoisted down his boxer-briefs, his hands soon settled back on my hips. Unable to stop my eyes from flicking downward, I saw him in all his glory, and.. Jesus, that was supposed to go inside of me?

He leaned his weight onto one arm that was curled above my head and as my eyes flicked down, of their own accord, I watched him prepare himself to enter me. His wrist flicked slightly as it neared the tip and his eyes were fixed on my neck, like he wanted to bury his nose in the crook of my shoulder and live there for the rest of his life. Idly, I noticed - with a momentary blip of terror - that his cock was both thicker and longer than Paul's, which concerned me.

Would it hurt even more?

Would I cry, like last time?

Would I bleed again?

Would it feel good?

What was I supposed to do? Where do I put my hands? His shoulders? His back? His hips? What do I do?

There was a slight curve to his penis, nearing the tip, which brushed past his bellybutton. The skin was smooth, except for the patch of hair at the base of his cock was a pale ash blonde, and looked like it would be soft to touch, instead of the wiriness that I had felt while I had been with Paul. The vein beneath his cock was thick, and, more than anything else, I wanted to run my tongue along it and taste him. I tried to watch, and memories how he liked to be touched, as he was doing it himself, but I couldn't focus on much else but the fact that it was happening. His hands moved with a skill and a finesse that I couldn't ever duplicate, but.. I would have time to learn. I could learn every pane of his chest, every fleck of hair, every whine, moan, whimper and plead.

Jasper and I were.. Finally going to have sex.

I told him how I felt. And we were going to have sex.

I was in his private home in the middle of Houston, on a romantic weekend vacation together, writhing in his bed, in his arms. And we were going to have sex, so you understand why sex was at the forefront of my mind.

"You ready?" he asked, his wrist twisting and turning in ways that I couldn't comprehend, the moistened head leaking pre-cum, and it dripped and coated his length until the flushing organ was slick and ready. I couldn't reply, I couldn't even think straight, but I was sure I nodded, somehow, then he leaned down, so his body was flush against my own. He grabbed my thighs, tenderly, but with a sense of possessiveness that I couldn't understand and he pulled me closed, so there wasn't even air in the space between us. My hair was splayed out on the pillows beneath my head, and my body shaking with tremors and my forehead was slick with a light sheen of sweat. He aligned the head of his cock with my entrance, and pressed our foreheads together. Before he thrust the first time, he kissed my lips, earnestly and filled with passion and the love that he couldn't speak of.

It hurt. It really did. A lot more than I remembered, honestly, but I didn't mind.

Because it was Jasper.

He grunted, tightening his hands on my thighs, as he nudged himself inside of me, inch by painful inch. He pressed in by an inch, then withdrew, then pushed in by another inch, then withdrew, and continued on like that, driving me absolutely insane with each thrust of his toned hips. It took a whole hell of a lot of self-control and I wanted nothing more than to cry, right then and there, but I couldn't. I had to be strong. The stretching sensation was something I wasn't used to, and the burning that accompanied it was unpleasant to say the goddamn least. He asked, softly, his breath more delicate on my skin than a butterfly's wing, "Almost there.. Are you okay?"

Frowning, I felt my forehead crumple, and I whined, weakly, "Yeah.."

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and drew circles on my lower back with his thumb, taking my mind off of the obvious aching, and whispered, softly, "I'm sorry."

That was all that was said between us for a long time.

He pushed in all of the way, until he was fully seated, my ass against his firm toned thighs, for a few moments, so I could become more adjusted to his length, then he pulled out, so there was barely any of his length inside of me. He scanned my now-relaxed features, and smiled, blissfully. He pushed against me again, filling me, and I sighed into his neck, a breath away from a dazed giggle. Then, as he pulled back once more, his perfect lips morphed into a impish, devious smirk, then he slammed back into my body with the force of something akin to ten men, catching me completely by surprise. I barely had time to hold onto his bicep before the bed rocked against the wall behind us, and he grinned, mischievously, down at me, his eyes twinkling with lust and hints of adoration.

Time seemed to stop in that moment.

When we locked eyes, it was like there truly was nobody in the world but us two. I felt like I never wanted to move from his side, and at the same time, I felt more invigorated than I have felt in years. It was beautiful. My eyes fluttered closed, and the unshed tears that had collected in the corners of my eyes slipped out and dripped onto the sheets below, staining it a dark grey.

Jasper chuckled, and ground his hips in that way that made my entire body scream in frustration, and I, wildly, grappled at his strong shoulders and muscular biceps, in hope that I'll be able to stay tethered to the bed below us, "I hope you're not falling asleep on me. That would be a blow to my pride, Darlin'."

Chewing on my lower lip, I cried, helpless, "I'm not. I-I'm.. I don't know. I can't-"

"It's okay," he said, thrusting back into my body, shallowly, even though I know that if he wanted, he could fuck me clean into the mattress. Grinding my hips into the sheets below, I whined, lowly, "Jesus Christ! Don't stop! Keep going!"

He smirked but said nothing else.

He didn't need to because the next thing that I knew, I was being thrown onto my hands and knees, and the speed at which Jasper exhaustively pounded into me. There was something about Jasper in the heat of sex, when he wasn't caught up with his family, something so personal and so intense that it made me cry.

He was an animal. Fierce. Strong. Instinctive. Aggressive. Domineering. All of these words didn't fully describe how thoroughly he was claiming me, in that moment, in that bed. It was the two of us. Together. Like two sides of the same coin. There only sound that echoed through the bedroom were the sharp slaps of skin that happened when we collided in the most intimate of ways, his rough groans as his grip on my ass and hips tightened when he came too close to climaxing. He would slow down, his strokes becoming more languid as he settled his mind, then once he had calmed down, he thrust into me, hard, dirty and fast.

Eventually it became too much and I forced my face into the sheets below me, to muffle my cries. I was basically chewing on the material, but I begged, my voice not even sounding like my own, "J-Jasper! Please, I cant. I cant breathe. It's too.. Too much. Don't stop. I'm b-begging you."

He plastered his chest to my back, completely enveloping my body with his, and breathed into my ear, as he drove into me, his voice shaky, but his thrusts strong enough to rock my entire body with him, "I wont stop. I wont. I promise."

The conviction in his voice, the unsteadiness, the emotion - it shook me to my core, and I found myself blubbering, "I'm so close. So close. I love you. I love you."

He pressed sloppy, feverish kisses along the ridges of my spine, and he licked and sucked at the back of my neck. He was ruining me for anybody else, and I accepted that. Swiftly, he slipped out of me, and I immediately missed the sensation. He didn't make me wait for too long, as he moved me, so he was on his back, and I was riding his thick, throbbing length. He didn't force me to keep at the same unrelenting pace as he was used to. We had all night to enjoy each other's bodies, but, for now, I wanted to cum. I was hungry for it. I craved the sparks of pleasure that fizzled inside of me when I climaxed, and I think he knew that. He clasped his much larger hands over my own, and brought one of my hands to his lips, to kiss my fingers. He sat up against the headboard, and pressed his forehead against my own, then growled, his voice filled with conviction, "I know. I always know. It's like I can't think when I'm around you. You're all I can see… all I can think about. God!"

Unable to stop it, I rocked and bounced as best I could on his cock, the moist sounds our bodies made as I did so only urged me to move faster. The tender mounds on my chest swayed with my movements, and I pleaded, pathetically, completely at his mercy, "Please. Just.. Just a little more. I-I.."

He sat up straighter then, his strong hands keeping my back upright, and ordered, strongly, "Say my name. Just my name. I want to hear you say it as you come," and I threw my arms around his neck, tucking my face in his neck, as he ground into me, one of his hands holding me steady, the other knitted, tightly, in my hair.

Biting down, hard, on my the nearest thing to me, which turned out to be the crook of his shoulder, my eyes crossed and I cried. Like.. Ugly sobbing-type crying. The sensations sparking between us as his cock rubbed against that spot inside of my body made my every bone in my body feel like it was suddenly made out of jelly. Honestly, I could do nothing but hold on to him for dear life, and I tried my hardest to match his pace, but I couldn't.

"Its okay," he said, into my hair, his hand tight on my hip, and the other knitted in my wild, uncontrollable tendrils that splayed over my shoulders, then repeated, breathlessly, "It's okay."

It flashed through me, catching me completely off guard, like a flash of raw lightning that burst through me, from my very core, and I was screaming. Screaming so loudly I was sure I would give him a head ache. I had no idea what came out of my mouth - for all I knew, it could have been gibberish. I think he moved me, so I was on my back, one leg draped around his waist, and the other was plastered beneath his, making my channel infinitely tighter, and continued to fuck into me, just as effortlessly, just as strongly, just as powerfully, and panted into my hair, "There you go, baby. It's okay. Jesus, I'm not good for you. I'm.. not.. Good.. But. But I-I.. Fuck, I love you. I love you so much. I love you so fucking much."

The vibrations just didn't stop. With every thrust, another spark of liquid lust and pure energy shot through my body, and it was only when I felt something warm and wet splash inside of me that I felt myself climax, again. In response to the sudden rush of oversensitivity, I clenched my thighs, tightening around his hips, to the point of where I was sure I would really hurt him, and dug my nails into his skin, sure in the knowledge that I would make him bleed, but not caring much, because I couldn't. His back muscles tightened under my hand, and I was sure he groaned into my ear, but.. Well, my mind was a little fuzzy.

It took a second for us to stop gasping into each other's flesh, and instead of resting his weight on my body, which I wouldn't have minded in the least, he rolled onto his side, and wrapped himself up in between my legs. Like a sexy, sexed-up Jasper sex-burrito. Lazily, he dragged the cover over our worn out, naked bodies, and pulled me close. Glancing up at him, through my lashes, my eyes tired and my throat sore from all of the screaming, "Did you just tell me you loved me?"

He didn't look at me, but he muttered, softly, against my shoulder, his voice scratchy and deep, "You heard me say it."

Kissing his chin, as it was the only thing I could reach in my drowsy state, I answered, lethargically, "Good. I thought I was hearing things."

He blinked, blankly, and scratched his neck, nervously. He asked, "Did.. Did you feel good?"

"Very. I feel very good," I sighed, tucking my hands to wrap around his baremiddle, and nuzzled myself into his chest. My heartbeat was thundering in my chest, pounding loudly in my ears, pumping blood around my body at an accelerated rate. He flicked my nose, softly, and admonished, "Go to sleep. You look tired."

Softly, I yawned into his skin, my eyes barely open, "I should. My boyfriend and I just had amazing sex."

He grinned, proudly, and answered, smugly, "Damn straight we did."

My eyes flittered closed, my thighs slick with our combined come, feeling the blissful yet acute pain of the throbbing in my muscles of my thighs. The bruises that would undoubtedly be littering my skin tomorrow all tingled in their own special way, and I closed my eyes, that night, sure in the knowledge that I had never been safer in my entire life. If I had stayed awake a little longer, I would have heard Jasper as he promised, "I will always love you, Camilla. Even if I'm not around to show it."

-0-0-

Honestly, I hate this chapter. Something feels forced and weird and ugh. But anyway! Here it is!

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