"Through her thin white shirt he could see the slender black straps of her bra." One shot. Characters: Jasper Hale, Alice Cullen, mentions of the Cullen siblings.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
1. Lunchtime - One Shot
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Author: Sarah Clark (umbrellas_can)
Rating: PG13 for suggestive themes
Characters/Pairings: Jasper, Alice
Word Count: 920
Summary: "Through her thin white shirt he could see the slender black straps of her bra."
Author's Notes: Something written on the fly because I could. I own nothing.
Jasper usually didn't have to try so hard to not stare at his wife.
He usually didn't fail so miserably either.
Alice sat beside him in the crowded cafeteria, her hands focused on the delicate task of peeling an orange. Careful fingers dug into the soft rind, removing it in small sections. The smell was strong to the point of being slightly nauseating, but it did little to dispel the scent lingering around Alice today. It was thick and heady, fresh and clean. Soft. Lingering.
Jasper leaned forward a fraction of an inch and inclined his head towards Alice in a careful, practiced gesture. Subtle enough to go unnoticed by most. Golden eyes traveled up across the curve of her wrist, the crease of her elbow, the slope of her thin shoulder. A smooth expanse of white neck lay half-hidden under dark hair. He watched, fascinated, as the muscles of her jaw caused the skin to shift and pull ever so slightly when she frowned.
He had pressed his mouth to that perfect patch of pale skin just this morning.
Her hands stilled in their task momentarily as one lifted to brush an errant lock behind her ear. The fingers lingered, feeling the softness of her hair, smoothing it into place, before lightly trailing down the line of her jaw. Jasper followed their movement carefully, intently focused on how her index finger brushed against the point of her chin, how her lips parted under the gentle pressure it exerted.
The sound of a soft sigh as she tasted the scent on her fingertips rang loud in his ears.
Jasper felt his jaw clench as the small hand fell away from her face to resume its work. She was making a neat pile of rind pieces; they formed a slightly lopsided pyramid on top of a crisp, white napkin. For no particular reason, the rind pile suddenly infuriated him. Why should something so small, so meaningless, command all of her attention?
He wanted to fling the rinds across the room, to take the fruit from her perfect hands and squeeze until it imploded from the pressure. He wanted to take Alice into his arms, press her to him, feel the swell of her breasts against his chest as she took in slow, measured breath after breath. He wanted to have her hands clenching in his hair, fingers tearing at the fabric of his shirt, teeth and tongue scraping along the underside of his jaw.
Edward raised an eyebrow at the blue tabletop. Jasper ignored him.
Alice shifted in her chair, turning away, focusing herself on the question of what she would do with the orange once it was peeled. Jasper studied her profile, memorized again the way her bangs fell into her eyes, the way her shoulder blades protruded evenly from her back.
Through her thin white shirt he could see the slender black straps of her bra. He suddenly decided black was his favorite color.
It took him a moment to realize she was staring at him. Only slightly embarrassed for his obvious gawking, he forced himself to meet her steady gaze, to sit still and look civil. His hands curled themselves into fists under the table.
Her eyes, glowing golden-brown under the white lights, watched him carefully. They swept over him, taking in his rigid posture, the set of his mouth, his own large golden eyes staring back at her. Then she ducked her head and smiled shyly up at him from under thick, black lashes.
Such a small, innocent gesture, but it succeeded in completely shattering what resolve Jasper had managed to scrape together. Slowly, carefully, he leaned across the distance separating him from her. She held still as he moved closer, curious. He paused a breaths distance away. A deviant hand reached under the table to brush against her thigh. Fingers curled around the muscle he found there. A rush of images suddenly overtook him; he thought of what he intended to do with her - to her - as soon as they got home.
She bowed her head. The tip of his nose brushed against her cheek. He felt her eyelashes flutter against his skin as a vision flashed before her mind’s eye.
He knew she had seen his plan. He could feel it in the way her face pressed more fully against his, in the way her leg twitched under his hand. In the way she had suddenly stopped breathing.
Turning, he brushed his lips against the curve of her ear. "Alice," he murmured.
The screech of her chair against the floor as she pushed away from the table startled him almost as much as the fist that clenched around the fabric of his shirt, hauling him to his feet. He barely had time to register the wild glint of her eyes and the hungry smirk perched upon her lips before her whispered words reached his ears.
Dark eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Um -"
Without waiting for his agreement, she turned and pulled him after her. Several heads turned to watch and wonder at their dramatic exit. Jasper realized, as a silly grin split his face, that he couldn't have cared less.
Emmett reached across the table to pick up the forgotten orange and finished peeling it. Rosalie stared after her siblings, frowning at their abrupt departure. "Where are they going?" she asked, with a casual air that said she didn't particularly care.
Edward frowned and rubbed his temple.