DETECTIVE

Easton knew, somewhere deep in the cogs and wheels of what made him tick that something was profoundly broken. Something didn’t work quite right. It must be. Know he knew it with dead certainty, because this felt right. Jasper went soft in his hands, accepting where Easton pushed. He’d whimpered out a moan, eyes gone glossy and dazed, cheeks flushed with a soft peppering of red that only made the mark of blue on his skin stand out. 

A submissive if Easton ever saw one. The soft needy part of his lips begging to be kissed apart and left panting. Easton wanted to do just that. Wanted to push Jasper on his knees here and now and see how his mouth would look around the weight of his cock, too. The thought alone made him hard and made him sick with himself, sick with how his length twitched just imagining.

Each sound Jasper made Easton kissed away, hungry for more - he pushed and Jasper allowed. When Easton pressed to deepen the kiss Jasper tilted his head, parted his mouth and moaned with it. When Easton bit his lip Jasper whimpered again, shuddering a tremble that Easton felt soak into his own body. He licked around the small cut, lavishing gentle attention, kissed down his jaw next feeling the start of a stubble the bitter taste of cologne. 

Jasper’s fingers came to his chest then, tugging at the wet fabric of his shirt and Easton grabbed for his wrists. “No.” It stunned him, how different his voice sounded, almost as coarse as Jasper’s moans. Yet the order therein undeniable, he wouldn’t couldn’t lose his grip on the submissive now. He wanted this, needed it to be like this, to have Jasper submit fully, thoroughly and without a shadow of a doubt Easton wanted each breath between his lips to be his. 

He pressed Jasper’s hands back to the sink’s counter, his fists fitting around the other man’s wrists in a tight grip and held him there, caged by the frame of Easton’s body, by his touch, his lips. Jasper moaned, begging words slipped on his tongue and shit, Easton knew the look of sub space, the start of it - blown dark pupils and lax vulnerability. The please, softly uttered sir with it made his head swim, left him feeling like a bloody teenager with his first taste of what it felt to have a sub call him Sir and mean it. 

He bit into Jasper’s neck then, mouth dipping lower, teeth sinking into the soft juncture where it met shoulder, hips lining with Sterling’s finding him hard, wanting. It made Easton smile against the skin of his neck, leaving a dark blooming bruise where he could taste Jasper’s heartbeat beneath. A mark that wouldn’t easily fade and that made him harder than it had any right to. 

“Yeah?” Easton asked then, looking at Jasper’s eyes, the hazy look there: “Please what?” He reached to push a hand under his jaw, to make him keep the link of his gaze. “Please what?“ Easton repeated, “What do you want?”

Jasper couldn’t think. He would have loved to blame it solely on the liquor warm in his veins, the whisky, thick and honeyed on his tongue -- tainted, now, by the metallic mixing of blood, the overwhelming taste of Easton. But no, it wasn’t the alcohol that had him aching, the needy line of his cock obvious beneath the soft fabric of his dress pants. It wasn’t the alcohol that made him reach for Easton, made him clutch at him, made him slip up, soft please leaving his lips before he could swallow it back down like bile. 

No, this was all Jasper. 

He knew it’d been awhile, that his silly little risqué texts with Red were paltry fodder, a band aid meant to cover a much bigger need, one he’d been content to ignore, one Easton had honed in on, had awoken with a vengeance, tugged forth from its slumber with so little effort, Dominance flaring, his own submission aching to respond, a reckoning Jasper hadn’t been prepared to face.

He had no defense against the way Easton said No, the way it slid down his spine, molten and searing, settling low in his gut as he shuddered under the weight of such a corrective order. Easton didn’t stop there, however. No, he forced Jasper’s hands back onto the counter, held them there, fingers wrapped tight and vice-like around his wrists. The pressure Easton applied made him feel weak at the knees, the sound that left his lips foreign to him --  a small, helpless exhale, one that tapered off into a wrung out whine he hadn’t the presence of mind to be embarrassed over. Not when he was this far gone, head fuzzy, cheeks flushed, the entirety of his body becoming like one large, exposed nerve. Vulnerable.

This was the part, Jasper supposed, Easton was meant to pull away; to sneer at him, to tell him how disgusting he was, how wrong and vile he found his submission.

Except, Easton did none of those things. 

No, instead he pressed himself flush against him, their hips aligning so that the hard, thick line of Easton’s cock could rub against Jasper’s. Oh. Jasper blinked, dazed, unable to help the way his body reacted, hips lifting, canting up, seeking contact while his hands twitched, still held in place at his side. Easton’s mouth closed over the junction of Jasper’s throat then and all rational thought ceased. He trembled, eyes shuttering to a close as Easton’s teeth scraped against skin, mouth wet where he sucked a mark into the salt of his flesh, lavishing abuse there, leaving behind the sort of lasting ache that went straight to his cock. 

Easton’s gaze found Jasper’s then, the burning intensity of it eating away at what little self control he had left, tipping him fully over the edge and into the harsh and unforgiving current of Easton’s dominance. He’d drown here, this Jasper knew. 

He did so willingly. 

Easton’s hand lifted then, coming to rest beneath Jasper’s chin. The sudden contact made him twitch, unable to help himself as he leaned into it, action seeking. Please what? Easton asked him. What do you want? The question felt muddied, like it had been spoken to him from underwater -- a far away request, one that felt almost out of reach. But, Jasper had only ever wanted one thing, had only ever needed one thing. 

To be good. 

“Please,” he begged once more, the soft tenderness of it hauntingly fragile. “Please, sir, I wanna,” his mouth parted, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he held Easton’s gaze, hesitance stalling him for only a moment, “I want to be good,” he finished, face flushing a darker hue, tongue peaking out to nervously wet his lips. 

What are most first times like? Awkward? Fumbling. Not exactly a good time. 

You’ve Got Mail.

“You should really be asking yourself that, Sav.” 

Easton teeth ached, his jaw pressed so tight it hurt. А feeling that molded itself into anger if only because it was so familiar. With Jasper anger came kicking about like second nature and Easton felt himself becoming every damn thing Jasper accused him of - a bully, someone who wanted to push those beneath him just to watch them squirm and learn their place. Jasper never did learn his place, never kept his mouth shit either and Easton hated him for it. Things would have been so much easier if Sterling just made him self scarce. If he just disappeared. 

But he never did. Sterling was everywhere. A damn thorn in his side. Even when he was a scrawny teenager, his lack of designation marking him strange and weird. Different - an unforgivable sin for the likes of high school, Jasper still had people around him. His sister. His mother. Friends. Easton got sick to his stomach seeing him flash easy smiles like he had no damn care in the world. 

“You followed me here, Sterling.” Easton snapped, his words turning venomous when he spoke Jasper’s name, as though it was just as much of an insult as any of the rest he’d used to describe the other man. Broken. Wrong. No one. Null. 

Of course his phone wasn’t here. Of course. Because Easton had to suffer in Jasper’s presence a little while longer. He took a step back, mouth pressed in a tight lipped frown, flat and unwelcoming, eyes sharp on alarm at the change of topic. “I wasn’t flirting with you.” The lie was easy enough to tell. Easton was so familiar with lying, he believed it himself. Even now. Even when he knew damn well that he’d spotted Jasper in the crowd at the town meeting, that what he felt for him was nothing short of attraction for those sullen features and the sarcastic little grin. He’d wanted him. But that didn’t mean shit.  It really didn’t.

Easton stood, alarmed, when Jasper’s little remark turned into a crusade, a full on attack. He tugged on his tie and for a second Easton could do nothing but just blink, so dumbfounded - he couldn’t keep up. Sterling reached for his shirt next buttons coming undone far too quickly, baring the skin beneath - flushed, from anger, Easton supposed, from the alcohol he could smell on Jasper’s breath too when he stepped into Easton’s space, the sugar sweet whiskey he’d tossed onto Easton. 

But there was more too and he hated that he noticed it all. The cut on Sterling’s lip where Easton’s fist had landed. The bruise on his cheek, standing out stark on the submissive’s pale skin. He looked rough. Despite the challenge blazing in his eye, the hot breath panted between his lips. Sterling looked like he’d reached the end of the rope. Had nothing more left to give. And Easton? 

Fuck, he was hard. 

He wanted. 

Wanted it so damn bad he shuddered with the strain of holding himself back and hated himself for it, but for once the hate, the anger - they weren’t enough. Didn’t match the weight of that hungry thing in his chest. Reaching forward to dig his fingers into Jasper’s nape wasn’t really a conscious choice. Nor was shoving him back into the sink’s edge, onto it. He just tugged and pulled, not sure he’ll stop at Sterling’s clothes. He felt hungry to dig to the bone.With the shirt shoved aside, Easton’s free hand greedily explored the hard  planes of his chest, down his stomach.   

The submissive’s skin was warm to the touch, jumped and flinched with every inch he claimed. He wanted to find his own bruises there. The ones he’d left on him the previous day, press his fingers there and watch Jasper sigh and hiss in pain. Because he would. Easton knew that much. Knew how damn responsive Sterling was. 

His fingers in Jasper’s hair tightened, grip nearing painful, he tipped Sterling’s head back before Easton claimed his mouth. Kissing him in the same way he fought him. Like he might want to hurt him instead, as though it would’ve made little difference if it was his fists instead. Sterling’s mouth was sweet, he let Easton take and take - pliant, yielding to it and Easton had left him no other option but to - he let his teeth close around the cut on Jasper’s lip until it bled again, until he could taste it between them. 

Easton’s hands dropped to Sterling’s hips, pulling him closer, firm against him, against the hard line of his length. 

I wasn’t flirting with you. 

Jasper scoffed. Did Easton think he was an idiot? He’d felt how Easton had looked at him, gaze gone heated and heavy -- interested. He’d even shuffled awkwardly, delivery rusty. If it had been anyone other than Easton, Jasper would’ve reciprocated. Easton had been charming, made Jasper’s heart flip in his chest, threw him off kilter. But, the moment Easton had realized it was him, the Null, all the softness and friendliness had melted away like it’d never been there to begin with. 

It was unreasonable to be hurt by that. Jasper knew that. He didn’t need Easton Beckett’s damn approval, didn’t need to make him see or acknowledge him for the submissive he was. But, Jasper wasn’t thinking rationally right now. He was a little more than slightly tipsy, the anger and hurt in his chest getting the best of him. 

Which was why he had goaded Easton, had pressed him. 

He’d succeeded, but Jasper hadn’t taken account the consequences. He saw the way Easton’s blue eyes darkened to something black, the way he shuddered -- with rage, with anger. His face contorted when he reached for Jasper, lightening quick, the hand that seized the back of his neck making him flinch. It was warm, commanding, tight as it held him in place, forced him backwards, the back of his knees giving as Easton shoved him into the sink’s counter. 

“What--” he managed to exhale, overwhelmed, shocked as Easton tugged and pulled at his shirt, exposing the rest of his chest, large hand roaming the expanse of it, rough and claiming, the action making Jasper’s cock twitch, filling with blood so quick it damn near made him dizzy, the hard ache of it tugging a soft gasp that soon melted into a whimpered moan. 

Easton didn’t stop there. No, why would he? He snared his fingers in Jasper’s hair, wrapped them tight and yanked. Jasper went boneless, mouth parting, eyes widening, breath gone quick and anticipatory. His hands twitched, wishing to seek, to tug at Easton’s suit, to be needy -- but no, no he hadn’t been given permission. Jasper gripped at the counter instead, knuckles white, unable to help the way he flushed, wanting -- wanting. 

He didn’t wait long because in the next breath, Easton’s mouth came crashing down on his, divesting him of breath, every bit a predator, ready to rip into Jasper, to find the soft parts of him and press until it hurt. Jasper was helpless to the onslaught, to the brutal force of it, to the way his mouth opened on instinct, moans lost in the sweltering heat of Easton’s mouth. Then Easton bit down on his cut, sucked at it, the metallic taste mingled with the sudden pain making him whimper, shuddering, cock so hard caused pain. 

It was so easy to slip, to fall headfirst into that space, the place where he was softer, more vulnerable. Needy. 

Such was apparent as Easton’s hand left his hair, finding a home on his hips, pressing them flush against Jasper's, the weighty, hard line of Easton’s cock obvious. Jasper couldn’t help it, he reached for Easton then, hand grabbing desperately at his shirt, silently seeking some sort of grounding. He didn’t know how to handle it, how vindicated he felt that Easton was also hard, how needy he felt being touched, overwhelmed by how much he wanted to submit -- to Easton. 

“What!” Easton snapped, gripping the sides of the sink once Sterling muttered something behind his back, taking his sweet time with the door. Was he really that useless?

It was the second attempt that Sterling gave at it that alerted him, half knowing yet refusing to accept what was painfully obvious.

“Move.” He stepped past, hand on the knob, doing again what Jasper had already tried more than once. Of course.

“Did you do this?” Easton snapped at Jasper, banging his fist on the wood, yelling out for help from the outside, knowing full well there were no guests in the house, everyone still too busy with the reception. His phone. Easton’s hands twitched in an aborted action, which was in his jacket. A jacket he’d left draped on the back of his chair. 

“Give me your phone.” He demanded, anger fused with every word, making them an accusation even then.

Did he do this? 

Jasper really wished he had some sort of insight into whatever the hell went on inside of Easton Beckett’s head. Did this prick really think he locked himself in a bathroom with the very same man who’d punched the shit out of him the day before? Jesus, the arrogance. He then proceeded to bang his fist on the door, yelling and hollering like everyone wasn’t back in the barn, drunk as skunks and dancing to music much too loud for them to be heard over. 

Nevertheless, Easton turned on Jasper, eyes angry, words angrier, demand hot on his lips. The submissive side of him twitched, the urge to please, to obey, rising up instinctively. But, Jasper didn’t have a phone to give. He’d left it in his car on the charging port at the start of the ceremony. 

But, Easton felt somehow larger in this small space, his anger filling up every spare inch of it, threatening to suffocate them both. Jasper was too drunk for this shit. “Did I what?” he snapped, boldness heightened by the liquor in his veins. “Trap myself in here with you? The asshole who just threatened to give me another black eye?” Jasper sighed, tired, just --- tired. “My phone’s in my car so no, I can’t give it to you.” 

He allowed his hips to rest on the sink then, chuckling cynically as he looked away from Easton. “And to think, not even a week ago, before you realized who I was, you flirted with me.” His mouth twisted into a wry smirk then, head tilted back so he could meet Easton’s gaze. “Is that what really pisses you off, Beckett? That I’m your type?” 

If asked, Jasper wouldn’t be able to say why he did it. But, something’d just clicked inside of him, like a spark that grew too big, became a wildfire, and burned out of control. 

He reached up then to tug haphazardly at his tie, loosening it with sharp, harsh pulls. “That it? That the reason you’re constantly harassing me? Because you hate that you want to fuck me?” He pushed off the sink then, chuckling as he divested himself of his tie. He pushed onward, going at his buttons next, undoing them one by one, action angry challenging as he drew nearer to Easton. They were nearly chest to chest by the time Jasper looked him directly in the eye: “Then get it over with already, sir, and fuck me.” 

He waited to hear the door close behind before fixing Jasper with a cutting gaze and snatched the offered towel to toss it aside, not caring where exactly it landed.

“I’m going to say this just once, Sterling,” Easton started, needing to put this thing to rest, bury it and be done with it. “Next time you pull a stunt like this, you’ll be paying for it.” He snarled, shoving Jasper a step backwards towards the door.

“And I won’t care if it’s your sister’s claiming or not. Make sure you don’t cross my path, don’t interfere with my job and you and me – we’ll never have to see each other again.” Easton’s voice carried with the low tone of a threat, holding promise.

He turned his back to push the sink on, and shove a hand under the cool water. “Leave. I can find my own way out.”

When Easton shoved, Jasper went easy, stumbling a half-step back towards into the door. Easton’s words were cutting, full of threat, each word serving to make Jasper feel smaller -- powerless. God, who did this prick think he was? Did Jasper have to pay for existing? He’d been living in this town long after Easton had fucked off. 

And, now, just because that he was back, Jasper had to avoid him? 

He bit the inside of his cheek so hard it bled. He inhaled once, twice through his nose before he exhaled slowly. Just agree and leave, he told himself. Do it for Stella. 

"Yes sir,” he said stiffly, hatefully. He was too drunk for this, too tired.

Jasper turned then, hand grabbing for the door knob. He twisted it, but it didn’t turn. The fuck? He tried again, to no avail. 

It was locked. 

He was almost tempted to follow through, stooping down the hissed challenge and making true of everything Jasper accused him to be.

He’d almost gotten fired yesterday. The fight, the one he had instigated not his first offence and the Chief had let him know as much. The ice under his feet was a thin one and there was no safety net this time. Easton’s fingers curled into fists, the front of his shirt drenched, the scene causing a few gazes to avert towards then but his remained on Jasper instead.

The mocking little smile on his face, thinking how satisfying it would be to make that cut on his lip open up again.

“Sure,” Easton answered stiffly, swiping at the napkins on the bar to press against the bourbon drenched fabric of his shirt.

They walked in silence, Jasper’s anger growing by the second. How dare he show his smug fucking face here? After all he’d done to him and Stella in their formative years. After what he’d done just yesterday. 

Jasper hated him. 

He entered the barn bathroom then -- appropriately decorated for the Ceremony, smelling like potpourri and hay. He turned on the sink, grabbing for one of the towels with S & A embroidered delicately into it. He shoved it under the sink and -- the fuck was he doing? He stiffened, hating that he’d already slipped up, body betraying him, wishing to clean up the mess he’d made, to service. 

He was drunk. And an idiot. 

He flushed, the color reaching the back of his neck just Easton pressed past the threshold of the bathroom, the door shutting behind him with an ominous click. Jasper scowled, mouth twitching. He stepped forward, pressing the towel angrily into Easton’s chest. “Here,” he said, tone brittle. “Clean yourself up.” 

He’d been preparing for this, after all – he was crashing (in a way) a Sterling Claiming. He was bound to cross paths with either one of the siblings.

Easton didn’t react when Jasper rushed over, standing at his side, facing him, rather he reached to take the glass of bourbon he’d asked from the bar and took a sip before facing the other.

“Now, that’s not quite true, I was invited. Well,” Technically, his date was invited. “I’m a plus one.” Easton elaborated, looking over the darker sheen of color around Jasper’s eye,  past the pair of glasses perched on the submissive’s nose, making him look so much a spitting image of his old high school self that it ticked something in Easton.

“Step back, Sterling.” Easton pressed a hand to his chest, pushing. “Unless you’d rather I give you a matching bruise on the other one.”

A plus one.

Of course he was. Of course. Why wouldn’t Easton be the date of someone here? He was attractive, a Dominant, an unrepentant asshole, sure, but maybe he had been right. Maybe Jasper was wrong, was the broken one; a lonely, fucked up submissive who’d never be quite right. His mouth felt suddenly dry, all of his self-control dulled by the beer, by the alcohol hot and thrumming in his veins.

Easton’s hand on his chest felt like a challenge. He stumbled back slightly, flushing and hating himself for it. Then, he reacted, hand seizing Easton’s, pushing back, his freshly poured whiskey sloshing all over the white of his dress shirt. “Do it,” he hissed, so low only Easton could hear him. “I’m sure Maxine would love to arrest you for assault, sir.”