Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Tuesday's Best 3-15-2011

Good morning, folks. I truly hope today finds you all safe, sound, and healthy - especially considering everything that's been going on with the world of late. Some crazy, scary shit, that. In order to give you a moment's respite, Stolenxsanity and I have found a couple of goodies to share with you, just to take you away for a little while. Let's see what we came up with, shall we?


If I could get paid for procrastinating, I’d be pretty damn close to being a millionaire by now considering how often I’m writing these up when I’m, quite literally, down to the wire. This week, I have a semi-legitimate excuse. Or at least I like to think I do. Laptop crashing, having to wait a week to buy a new one, having to switch all my files over to the new one, and then a natural disaster making me internet-less for a few days. All that combined actually made me forget I was up for a rec this week. So, for that, I apologize. My apology comes with a gift in the form of a rec that I managed to write up just for your reading pleasure and I hope that you come to enjoy as much as I do.

This week’s rec? Hard by the exceptionally talented - at least so far as I’m concerned - SingleStrand. This lovely little gem was also written for the very aptly named dirtytalkingjasper contest and, well, I’ll let the story - which is listed as an Edward/Jasper, but has a little bit of a twist - speak for itself.

7:00 Monday morning. I'm hard. Another lonely weekend has led to another Monday morning and another morning wood with only my hand for company. How many weeks am I going to wake up alone, needy and wanting? Actually, waking up alone I'm fine with. It's going to bed alone that bothers me. It's become routine - a routine I'm rapidly growing annoyed with. I look under the covers. Yep, still hard.

With a sigh and a stretch, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and rub the morning bleariness from my eyes. Time to shower and head to campus, stopping at my favorite local coffee shop on the way. Class is from 8:00 to 1:00, followed by a good workout at the rec center, then home to shower, study, jerk off, and sleep. Sometimes I make a second stop at the coffee shop or a quick run to the liquor store for a six pack. When you go to a Chicago prep school, you've had a passable fake ID since age fifteen and even then, the lame chick at Dave's Liquor is an easy target for a flirty smile and a little harmless innuendo. I've never had trouble getting what I want with the ladies. It's guys I have a hard time around. Literally.

Unf. Literally. The fact that the mere insinuation of boy-on-boy is enough to perk me right up is a little pathetic, no? Anyway, moving on … As of yet, the narrator is unknown. Personally, even if I know the pairing beforehand, not knowing who is narrating sometimes makes it a little more interesting. It creates a litany of questions that will likely be answered soon enough but there’s an air of anticipation, so to speak. Anticipation for what? Well, aside from the fuckhot boysexin’, the anticipation of finding out who the players are and what roles they each play.

Entering the coffee shop, I reach for my wallet and check my watch at the same time. 7:48. Dammit. I hurry to the counter and just as I start to order my usual iced caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso, I realize he's working. Scratch that. They're both working. Annnnd I'm hard again. I should've wanked this morning after all.

As I order my drink and hand Jasper a five from my wallet, I casually watch Riley work the espresso machine out of the corner of my eye. I've been coming to this coffee shop every day for the last three months. Every day since I moved to this shit town and realized the only place with good eye candy was a hippie, free-trade, local-organic, probably-selling-pot-out-the-back-door coffee shop. I usually get a glimpse of one of them every morning. Only twice in this three months though have they both been working.

From what I've observed in each, Jasper and Riley seem to be typical early-twenties hippies. They keep their hair a little longer than most guys and wear thrift shop tee shirts and torn jeans. Jasper has blue eyes and dimples like an all-around American boy, and often wears a leather cord around his neck or a silver ring on his thumb. Riley is dark-haired, dark-eyed and gorgeous with tan skin and amazing forearms. He seems more reserved than Jasper and doesn't make eye contact often but when he does, damn. That piercing gaze could bring me to my knees.

I still haven't figured out if Riley and Jasper are college students or just locals making a buck. It doesn't matter. They're hot. Like…steaming hot. As long as they're here, I'll come to this place every day for the next four years, even if we never interact more than exchanging money for coffee. For all my confident, sometimes cocky, exterior, I lose myself around these two. I stumble over words, blush during interaction. All it takes is a grin from Riley or a wink from Jasper and I forget who I've become. I revert to the shy preteen boy that knew he was gay and couldn't bring himself to tell a soul all those years.

I've got to get over this nonsense, so I clear my throat and blurt, "You two working the same shift now?"

Riley smirks at me and as he dumps the filter basket of the machine says, "Yeah. We're roommates now so it just made sense."

"Guess I'll be seeing you both every morning then. I mean, I come in here every morning and…you'll…both be here," I drift off. God, I sound like an idiot.

"You know, I've seen you 'round all semester and can recite your drink by heart, but I still don't know your name darlin'," Jasper teases.

"Ed-Edward," I say. Jesus, who stumbles over their own fucking name?

"Well Edward, guess we'll see your ass tomorrow." Jasper winks at me and turns to take the next order as Riley hands me my to-go cup.

"Sure. 7:45. I'll be here." I turn toward the door, mentally kicking my ass for sounding like such a jackass. I've got to practice before coming in here tomorrow morning.



What the fuck is wrong with me?

Oh Edward, darling, I would be just as incoherent. Trust. Especially with the little bit of teasing from our dear ol’ Jasper that’ll be coming (no pun intended, promise). Fortunately for us, that’s not the only thing that’ll be, err, coming (yes, this time the pun was intentional. That said, I leave you with this to whet your appetites just a tiny bit:

"Oh, Edward. I don't just want to kiss you. I've wanted to fuck you since the first time you walked into the coffee shop. You've got a gorgeous face, a perfect ass, and a package that, I must say, seems to always be happy to see me." As Jasper talks, his eyes leisurely skim my body, up and down and back up. I feel like I'm on display. I kind of like it. Just as he leans forward to kiss me, however, I am reminded of Riley. Poor guy is probably waiting unassumingly at the table for his boyfriend and their newfound friend to return, while we're in here steaming up the bathroom with our lust.

I pull myself together just long enough to whisper. "What about Riley?"

"Riley? Edward, don't you worry about Riley. He's wanted to suck your dick for so long, he's in pain. Haven't you noticed the kid can barely look at you?"

"I guess, I mean I thought he was shy. Aren't you guys together? Like together together?" All I can think about is Riley blowing me. Come to think of it, the boy's mouth was made to be fucked.

"Of course we're together. That goes without saying. But we're not always exclusive, and we've been searching for just the right third to add to our fun." Jasper is leaning in again, and I find my resolve fading quickly.

"So, he would be okay with th-this?" I'm trying to wrap my head around an open relationship like theirs, but it's really hard to do, especially when my dick is straining to get out of my pants.

As Jasper starts to trail feather-light kisses over my neck and around my earlobe, he whispers, "He'll be so okay with this that he'll wish he was in here too."

With the slightest turn of my head, he's kissing me. His lips move over mine tentatively, as if he's hesitating, afraid I might run away. Without thinking, I allow myself to kiss back, telling him with my lips that I'm not afraid. Our mouths move together for several seconds, and then Jasper's tongue sweeps out, slowly licking along my jaw. When he reaches my earlobe again, I let out a shuddering sigh followed by a soft whimper and allow my hands to drift up and rest on his hips. Jasper takes my move as an invitation and he presses hard against me, pushing me back against the bathroom sink. At this point I'm not nearly as concerned about the germ status of the bathroom and relax against it, focusing on the feel of the hard lines of his erection against my leg. My own hard-on is nudging against his, and it takes all my will power not to thrust my hips against him. I'm not a dog though, so I convince myself not to dry hump him like my life depends on it and settle for a few gentle rocking motions.

Jasper's mouth finds mine again and he hungrily sucks on my lower lip. I shudder at the touch of his hands, which are now roaming my back and sides. I let out a soft groan and might even start panting. Maybe I'm a dog after all.

Just as I'm really getting invested in the, err, situation, Jasper pulls back abruptly and wipes the corner of my mouth with his thumb.

"Damn, Edward. If your lip tastes that good, I can only imagine how good your cock will taste."

You like? Because I know that I do and this story is just sitting there waiting for you to take a peek at it. Don’t keep it waiting on my account. In fact, if you’re still reading this, I must say that you are wasting precious time that could be better spent reading that in its entirety.


Who doesn’t love a good fairytale? I know I do. So what happens when avioleta decides to re-write one of the world’s most favorite fairytales, and douses it with a healthy sprinkling of slashy goodness?  

Why, you get A Cinderella Story, of course!

Edward being ‘Cinderella’ here, as he lives with his stepmother and two stepsisters. Having no family left after the death of his father, he does what he can to get by. Esme, for her part, plays the role of wicked stepmother a little too well - no, I mean it. I wanted to slap her several times for her behaviour toward poor Edward.

All Edward wants is to be left in peace, but of course you and I both know this isn’t meant to be. Not by his family, and not by his best friend a.k.a. “fairy godmother”, Bella.

When Carlisle, Forks’s own prodigal son, returns after the death of his father, in order to take over his place in the family business, Carlisle’s mother decides to hold a ball. Everyone who is anyone is invited - even Bella, as the daughter of the town’s Chief of Police.

Rumor has it, that Carlisle will be choosing a wife that night, so as you might guess, Esme and her daughters (Rosalie and Alice, by the way) are up in arms, hoping to land themselves on easy street.

Bella for her part, just wants to go and have fun. She convinces Edward to come with her, only winning the argument by pointing out no one will know - it is a costume ball, so they can go disguised without anyone the wiser.

Ahh, but life never does happen like a fairytale, does it. No matter how you dress for the part.

He looked back at the boy. His stance was all wrong; he looked awkward and uncomfortable (as if there were several places he'd rather be). He slouched against the wall, one leg was bent as it shouldn't be, especially not in that costume.

But the cotume. Oh God, the costume.

The dress was absolutely perfect.

It fit beautifully, skimming over his flat chest, dipping just low enough to tease. Carlisle couldn't look away. It swept down in a shimmery wash of sleek fabric and tucked in at the waist, revealing the jut of narrow hipbones.

Carlisle could imagine the flat planes of his stomach; his eye traced the curve of his waist beneath the silky sheen of pale satin.

He wanted to run his hands along the boy's skin. He wanted to see what was under that dress.

Carlisle took a sip of wine.

He wanted to take the young man outside and suck him off in his mother's garden. But that was inappropriate, and not just for the obvious reasons.

The dress hinted at that of a fairy tale princess, with the glimmer of white and the curve of the neckline. But it was far too short and rather too tight for any truly respectable princess to wear.

Carlisle liked it better that way.

Now we all know how the original story goes. If you want to see how closely avioleta holds to that tale, you’ll have to go read for yourself. Believe me, you’ll never look at Cinderella the same way again. 

There you have it, folks, another week with more slashy goodness to devour. Be sure to check back next week to see what Captain Jezebel and I have in store for you. In the mean time, leave the wonderful authors of this week's recs some lovin'. 

Stay safe.

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