A lot of huge thank yous go to:

- Wendy for being a kick-ass beta

- C for pre-reading and cheerleading

- L for pre-reading, cheerleading and writing the WINNING ENTRY (public vote) 'Eat, Laugh, Fuck' - the hottest Riley/Edward slash fic ever! Her nickname on FFn is prassacut, so head over and read it! She really deserves it!

- Everyone who left me a ovely review on the contest page!

- and of course the wonderful ladies who held the contest! Even if they think it's such a great idea not to tell anyone how they did in the votes.

Eurofornication Contest

Title: In Vienna

Pen name: dariachenowith

Characters: Edward / Jasper

Summary: One breakup. Two guys. Three bars. Endless possibilities.

Rating: M

I can't believe she broke up with me.

Not like this. Not after three years. Not after that fucking weekend in Prague when I spent hours pretending not to give a shit about having to lug all her shopping bags around.

No one breaks up with me, I break up with them. But still... she did it. She broke up with me.

I want to call her a bitch, among other things, like I did when she walked out on me, but I can't. The mental image of the pain in her eyes is still haunting me, hours later, and not for the first time I consider swallowing my pride and calling her. But she told me not to, and even though I want to lash out in frustration, I respect her wish. For now.

Staying in the apartment we've shared for the last two years has been too painful, but it slowly dawns on me that walking through the city, alone, on a Sunday evening isn't my brightest idea ever. The shops are closed and the streets empty except for an unnaturally high number of star-struck couples walking hand in hand with what seems to be the sole purpose of annoying me. As I pass the Haydn cinema I briefly consider going inside, but really, is there a sadder thing than a lonely guy watching a movie, unable to pay attention?

Lighting a cigarette, I inhale deeply, wishing it was something more potent than tobacco, but it's not like Vienna's a city where you can buy weed on every street corner. As I continue walking down Mariahilfer Straße, the Starbucks on the other side of the broad boulevard catches my eye, and I feel my chest constrict. Bella and I went there on our first date, and while I haven't thought about that in years, now it sticks out like a neon sign to me.

I need a drink, and fast. Walking through the courtyard of the MUMOK, where we've spent countless lazy summer evenings sitting on the brightly colored Enzis, doesn't help improve my glum mood. Hitting the next bar fast is more important now. Plus the MQ Daily is open now and relatively deserted, thanks to tourism season still being a few weeks away. I love the city in late March but travel agencies seem to disagree with me. Hell, maybe that's part of the reason I do love the brisk weather of early spring.

I don't even scan the room but head straight for the last table in the corner, sitting down on the bench by the glass front. A bored waiter comes over a minute later and I order a beer, forgoing the wine I usually drink because Bella loves their Rioja. Thinking of her drives a new spike of agony through me, and I immediately wish I'd ordered something stronger, but the beer will suffice for taking the edge off the pain. I even feel a little spiteful as I drink half of it in one go, filled with a childish glee at how that would have made her frown.

Too soon the glass is empty but I'm still feeling like someone hit me repeatedly with a sledgehammer. When I look up to signal the waiter, I see a familiar face by the courtyard entrance. My first impulse is to look away and try to hide – a rather idiotic endeavor in a nearly deserted bar – but suddenly I'm sick of spending the evening moping on my own.

Recognition lights up Jasper's face when he sees me wave to get his attention, and he quickly joins me with his usual easy grin in place.

"Hey, man," I greet him jovially, trying to put on a brave face.

We shake hands before he falls into the chair opposite me, not bothering to hang his coat over the back but simply shrugging out of it.

"Hey there yourself. What are you doing here, on a Sunday no less?"

His harmless question makes me ache inside again, but I do my best not to grimace.

"Nothing, really, just getting a beer or five."

He eyes the empty glass in front of me, then grabs the thin menu wedged between the salt and pepper shakers. While he considers what to get himself, I wonder what he's doing here. Part of me is glad to have met him, but there's also a small voice in the back of my mind that is suspicious of the coincidence. Not that he could rationally have tracked me down, seeing that not ten minutes earlier even I hadn't known where I was heading.

The waiter, spurred on by the increasing number of customers, returns, and I snort when Jasper orders a Mango Lassi with his sandwich, while I get another beer.

"Don't diss the healthy food! Plus the fat from the yogurt will keep me from getting drunk too soon, and the vitamins from the mango will help combat the hangover later."

I keep staring at him levelly until he eventually cracks up, grinning at his own stupid excuse. He's a martial arts instructor and is probably required to justify his nutritional choices by their union, or something like that. As long as he doesn't force me to join him, I'm good.

He keeps looking at me expectantly, though, and I wonder if the dark thoughts still clogging my brain have made me miss something he's said. When I raise my brows in question, he narrows his eyes and leans closer.

"No offense, but you do look like you could use a partner in crime when you go on your binge."

"Binge? Two beers don't exactly make a binge," I scoff.

"True, but do you really want to keep it at just two?"

The waiter returns with the drinks and his food, preventing me from answering for a minute, and when he's gone I realize that there's something sketchy about Jasper's reasoning.

"Why do you even think I'll go on a binge? It's Sunday, and I think we're both way too old for the Friday night crowd anyway."

The uncomfortable look he's trying to hide gives him away, even before he reluctantly replies, but he still answers dutifully when I keep staring at him.

"I might have run into Tanya on the way out of the gym, who might just have gotten off the phone with Alice, who it appears ran into Bella earlier today, and, yeah, I figure you can do the math."

My yearning for something stronger than the beer sitting in front of me increases, but I do my best not to let the pain inside of me show.

"Guess so, yeah."

The following silence is a bit uncomfortable, but maybe that's just my mind being paranoid still. Like any guy, he tries to laugh it off with a witty remark. And like all those witty remarks, it's as stupid as they get.

"At least now you can go stare at the girls at Hooters without feeling bad about it!"

"Why doesn't it surprise me that a bumhole engineer like you might think that way? Anyway, they closed it like three years ago."

As I intended, he starts laughing at my latest jibe at his sexual orientation, but it ends with a disgusting sound that makes the only other patron, a girl in her late twenties, look in our direction. Once he's able to breathe properly again, Jasper shakes his head.

"Dude, did you just make that up or did you Google that shit? I don't know what I'd do without you and your witticisms all the time. Probably start dating women or some shit like that."

I shrug, then take a deep draft from my beer. He knows it's just friendly banter, although I'm not quite sure whether his usual response – trying to hit on me – is just a joke or laced with some real interest. It's not like we've never talked about it. Him. Me. Either way, I'm happy that today he gives it a rest before someone overhears, although the fact that we live in a city where most of the general population can't even say good morning in English helps, too. Political correctness aside, I wouldn't want anyone to think that I have a problem with homosexuals in general, or Jasper in particular. He's an okay guy, and I couldn't care less who he fucks.

"I actually found that one on Wikipedia," I inform him tartly, pretty much confirming his guess.

"How original," he huffs. "Then again we're living in a country that thinks it's a sign of acceptance to team a gay guy up with a male professional dancer on 'Dancing Stars.' Guess you could do worse."

The temptation is strong to reply that the fact that he knows which c-list celebrities got onto the show this season is even more gay, but with the media going wild over that tidbit it's hard not to be aware of it. Either way, the awkwardness over his unspoken sympathy for my newly acquired bachelor state is diffused, and I'm more than happy to move the conversation in another direction.

"So, what were you saying about going on a binge earlier?"

His face lights up at that, and he quickly finishes his sandwich.

"I knew you'd be up for it. Although, I say we need a change of location. This here just won't do."

"You do realize that all that healthy living shit is negated by chugging down booze by the gallon?"

"Hey, gotta fit in with the people and lower myself to their level of hypocrisy, right?"

There's nothing I can add to that so I flag down the waiter, and five minutes later we're outside, the cool breeze helping to chase away the first signs of tipsiness I feel.

"Where to now?" I ask, seeing as it was his idea to look for a change of scenery.

"Don't know what's open on a Sunday evening," he lies, his eyes already taking on that gleam that tells me he already has a location picked out.

"Of course you don't."

"But," he interjects, grinning brightly, "If I remember correctly, Charlie P's should have their pub quiz tonight. And it's only a few stations away on the underground, if you're too lazy to walk. Might kill your buzz, too."

"Ah, the plot thickens."

"Dude, that makes absolutely no sense."

I don't even try to defend my statement, but start walking over to the brightly lit, purple underground station. Jasper quickly catches up with me after briefly scanning the display of books in the window of the closed bookstore inside the passageway.

"Do you ever wonder why the underground lines are numbered from U1 to U6, but U5 doesn't exist?"

"No, never really crossed my mind," I admit, and the nearing train keeps me from offering my sage opinion on the topic. After we step inside we remain standing, leaning against the glass barriers between the doors and the grouped seats. Jasper smirks when I stagger as the train lurches forward, but keeps any wisecracks to himself. It's not like two beer would cause me to react like that already.

Twenty minutes later, we've made it to the quaint Irish pub close to Vienna's university. On the way there we talk about sports and the new movies hitting the theaters next weekend. I'm happy enough to find myself nursing a pint of Guinness to keep up the perpetual buzz Jasper so eloquently pointed out before, while he's chugging down his first Strongbow as if it were water instead of cider.

"Did you know that they actually export specially trained bartenders and pub furniture with the beer?" he tells me conversationally, then momentarily loses his train of thought as one of soccer players on the large TV screens all around us scores a goal, making half of the patrons cry out with glee.

"Just so they can serve Guinness here?"

"Yeah, and call it an Irish Pub."

"You're so full of useful trivia tonight, it's refreshing," I offer, but he deflects my barb with a wide smile.

"Everyone likes a smart guy!"

We get a fresh round of drinks soon, then another. By the time the proprietor announces that the infamous pub quiz will soon start, we're both pretty hammered. Sadly for me, that means my mood is dropping fast.

"I can't believe the bitch just dumped me!" I exclaim, then take a deep draft from my beer to shut down the nagging voice inside my head that tells me I'm a true asshole for even thinking of Bella like that.

Jasper regards me critically for a moment, before his obvious intoxication ruins the stern look completely with a wide grin.

"I can believe it alright if you called her that to her face, man."

"Smartass!" I grunt in return. "Of course I didn't!" Which is a lie, but I somehow can't 'fess up to it right now. "But it was so out of the blue! She should at least have warned me."

"Like what, emailed you a memo a week in advance? Get real, just because you were too dumb to see the signs doesn't mean she hasn't been dropping hints left and right for a long time already."

"Just like you to always team up with the girls. Next you'll want a tiara, too."

For whatever reason my remark makes him angry, but instead of getting in my face he shrugs.

"You know, the huge advantage of being into gay men is that most of them are not as stuck up and stupid as you are. Apparently getting fucked good and regularly makes for better people."

I stare at him for a few seconds before I crack up, nearly spilling the rest of my beer.

"You're just so full of shit!"

He seems to agree with me from the way he's laughing himself, and not for the first time I secretly admire the strength of his ego. I don't think I could shrug off insults the way he usually does. But right now I'm already too far gone to stop behaving like a jerk myself and thus force him to put up with my bullshit.

"Yeah, yeah, keep on laughing, I'll think of you when I get fucked by a huge cock later tonight while you're wallowing alone in your cold bed at home!"

I try to act scandalized but the booze won't let me utter anything except for another braying laugh, so I leave it at that.

Thankfully the pub quiz starts then, and we both seem happy to use tonight's questions as a way to change the topic. Not that either of us is in any state to really answer more than one or two of them, but at least we try.

"Dude, I'm not sure if John Travolta really was the first outright gay man to receive the Nobel Prize for Literature," I point out, halfway through my next beer. No idea how many I've had already.

"Oh, come on, how can you dispute that his performance in Grease was the purest form of art ever?"

"You're just so gay!"

"And you're a fucking illiterate idiot," he shouts back, then pretends to concentrate on the next question. "And that the fuck is the Turner Prize?"

"Maybe they award it for the most gay answers ever to a quiz?"

He puts his empty glass down onto the table with a little too much force, his light eyes piercing mine all of a sudden. He looks downright scary that way.

"You are so fucking hilarious, anyone ever told you that? Although, for the most part you just sound like a repressed homosexual ready to molest the next pretty boy he can get his hands on."

"Man, get a grip on yourself! I was just joking is all," I grumble, probably a little more defensive than I want to be, but he's really intimidating when he's like that. Part of me would even be glad if he just went ahead and socked me a good one for it – and I know he's the guy who'd deal a murder punch instead of a bitch slap – but he shows way more composure than I would have and leans back, snorting.

"You know what's really funny? A pretty boy like you thinking he can really insult me with stuff he so obviously doesn't believe himself. You're just a mean drunk who's insulted that any woman could dare to challenge his awesomeness like Bella did by breaking up with you. The only rise you'll get out of me is sympathy. Unless of course you're waiting for me to offer you something else."

That shuts me up better than any expletive he could have hurled in my face, and I finish my Guinness in silence. Jasper looks somewhat satisfied with the reaction his words have caused, and I have to admit that if his goal was to make me feel stupid, he has succeeded.

"Wanna stay here longer, or are you up for a change of place again?" he speaks up after letting me stew for a while. My first impulse is to resume my banter from before, but his biting remark has sobered me up enough to at least try not to make him feel bad for the way Bella has left me.

"Sure, what do you have in mind?"

"There's a new bar over in the Bermudadreieck. We could hit that."

"Then let's go. Haven't been there in years. All the sixteen year-olds always scare me away."

"On a Sunday night they already have curfew," he points out, smirking when I don't add another slightly witty remark to that.

After taking a leak I join him outside, and we decide to walk over there, even if it would be faster to take one of the trams circling the Inner City district instead. Like any day of the week that's not a Friday or Saturday, the streets are already deserted, letting the sounds of our footsteps and friendly banter echo way ahead of us.

I'm surprised at how easily he shrugs off the previous tension my stupidity has created and chats effortlessly about the new motorcycle he's thinking of buying once the weather is warm enough not to turn him into an icicle when he rides it. Not really knowing much about bikes myself – or cars for that matter – I contribute the required affirmative grunts to his monologue while I let the city around us ensnare me with its own special charm.

"You know what I'd really like right now?" I suddenly interrupt him, surprising Jasper as much as myself.

"A blowjob?" he offers jokingly – or at least I think he's making fun of me – earning himself a snort.

"We're heading in the wrong direction for that; last time I checked all the whores hang out elsewhere. But I could really devour a hotdog right now."

Jasper starts laughing at me, staggering against one of the ornate lamp posts we've been passing by.

"What's so funny about that?" I want to know.

"Dude, we're in Vienna! They'll crucify you if you ask for a hotdog!"

I glare at him but then can't keep a snicker from escaping.

"Yeah? Well, that's why I'm going to let you order one for me then!"

This is obviously a threat but it does nothing to shut him up, although he at least resumes walking.

"You're just jealous because I can order 'a Eitrige mit an Buckl und an Sechzehnerblech' and you can't!"

Of course he's right, but I can't very well admit that. I've been in the city years longer than him, but somehow he has picked up a lot more of the slurred Viennese slang than I have; I can barely lead a conversation in German.

"No way, I just love letting you embarrass yourself trying to get that out in a way that someone will actually understand."

Obviously the wiser man, he holds his tongue. Instead of turning towards the bar quarter that's our ultimate destination, he angles towards the city center. As we walk down the wide Graben boulevard towards the Stephansdom, Jasper steers our conversation back to Bella, ignoring the huge palace-like buildings surrounding us that never fail to impress me.

"So, she just broke up with you? No week-long fights or bitching?"

"Well, not quite," I admit, stuffing my hands deeper into my coat pockets. "She did express her dismay a few times, but it's not like she ever expected me to take her seriously."

He snorts, but when he catches my glare he wipes the beginning of a smirk off his face.

"Maybe you should have?"

"You know what they say about hindsight? Asshole."

"Hey, I'm just trying to be helpful here."

We cross one of the few small streets where cars are permitted to drive, and my stomach rumbles when the brightly lit structure of the snack vendor, pardon me, Würstlstand, comes into view ahead of us.

"Yeah, I should have taken her more seriously," I grudgingly admit. "But she never really complained about anything. Seriously I mean, in a 'change or I'll leave you' kind of way. And of course we had a few fights, I mean who doesn't? Makes the make-up sex all the better."

He smiles briefly at that, probably remembering similar situations he's been in rather than the images flickering through my own mind at my words. Bella, bent over the couch, or writhing on the kitchen table, moaning loudly, her sharp nails biting into my back as I pull her up and slam her against the wall at her back, thrusting into her while her legs wrap around my hips...

And now I'm drunk, miserable and sporting a hard-on. The night can hardly get any worse than this.

Thankfully I can hide that between my snug jeans and my coat. Studying a display of kitchen utensils in a shop window helps reduce my boner somewhat, while Jasper orders sausages with bread and beer for us both – of course, in near perfect Viennese - and shamelessly flirts with the fifty year-old woman behind the counter. As much as I feel like making fun of him, my lack of proper vocabulary keeps me from joining their conversation, and I'm happy to accept the small paper tray, with extra ketchup and mustard, in silence.

Moving to the side of the hut, we wolf down the food, and I feel mature for not making any jokes about him eating sausage. I'm so lost in thought as I mentally pat myself on the back that I choke on my beer when he suddenly pretends to fellate the spicy bit of food, making him bend over with laughter himself.

"Shit, you're such an easy mark, it's ridiculous!"

"Asshole!" I try to get the word in despite my coughing fit, but while I do my best to look pissed off, we both end up grinning.

With the last bit of animosity between us now gone – just like the food and what little of my beer I haven't spilled – we resume our walk, heading around the backside of Vienna's landmark cathedral. Another turn and we're swallowed up by the other side of the city's ancient center, comprised of buildings that are just as tall as the ones we've passed before, while here the streets in between the buildings are barely wide enough to let a car through comfortably, let alone a truck. Walking through the barely lit side streets makes it easy to imagine how life must have been here fifty – or even five hundred – years ago. Even the smell of piss and horse shit seems oddly authentic.

We keep on joking and laughing, and it lifts my mood for the first time in ages. So much so that when we suddenly exit one of the narrow streets onto a larger one that I know well, and we realize that we've been heading in the completely wrong direction, we both crack up and I nearly keel over. Jasper jumps in quickly, steading me, and we earn scornful looks from two passing women who quicken their pace toward the next underground station.

"Now that's a switch," Jasper observes, trying to sound wry, but his snickers diminish the effect completely. "On my own I never make girls run away in fear! You're really a bad influence."

"Who, me?" I point dramatically at my own chest, the motion making me stagger anew. Looking after them, I realize that one of them has the same long, brown hair as Bella, and I feel the by now almost familiar pain back in my chest – while my jeans get uncomfortably tighter. My body obviously can't decide anymore which way to react, and I'm glad when Jasper puts one heavy arm across my shoulders and steers me towards the next road that will hopefully help us backtrack to where we belong.

"Who else? You do look a little like a sex offender with your hands shoved in your jacket as if you're ready to tear it open and show them your naked cock underneath. That obviously drunk look on your face doesn't really help much, either."

"Yeah, and you with that sunnyboy mop of yellow hair and your… your..." I cast around for some suitably derogative physical feature while I scrutinize his face. It's kind of hard to find anything as he's a reasonably attractive guy – even I can admit that. He's tall, and years of doing martial arts have lent him well-defined muscles that look natural, not like the ridiculous bulk most bodybuilders get from too much time in the gym. Add to that his light grey eyes and an easy smile, and I can see why girls and guys alike keep hitting on him.

I don't even notice that I've gotten lost in thought, looking at him, until he clears his throat, his grin brightening.

"Earth to Edward, anyone home?"

I blink, then try to remember what I've been saying, but my booze-addled mind is wiped clean of even a hint. He's fast to catch on to that, and I can already see the sarcasm-laced mirth turn his grin into a mocking grimace.

And for whatever reason, my brain screams at me to shut him up before he can utter whatever scornful remark he's about to come up with, so I reach out, grab his face and kiss him.

That does the trick. In a way.

Jasper seems as stunned by my actions as I am myself, and for the first two or three seconds he doesn't react at all. That is about as much time as my mind needs to kick into gear, but it stutters to a halt again when I feel his lips part underneath mine, the tip of his tongue idly sweeping across my own mouth.

Reacting mostly on autopilot – the fact that my cock is as hard as it gets, and quite painful is not helping – I open my lips, letting him deepen the kiss. This is actually nice, and not what I've expected.

Not that I'd planned on kissing a guy tonight.

Fucking shit, I'm kissing a guy!

Moving as fast as before, I shove him away, confusion warring with the horniness. It kills what little sense the alcohol has left me with as I stagger against the house at my back. A million thoughts race through my head, too fast to even grasp a single coherent one of them, but within seconds my whole body tenses with the onset of panic. If the cold stone at my back wasn't holding me upright, I would be running away right now, although I'm not even sure if that would be from him – or myself.

Jasper, who isn't nearly as hammered as I am, remains standing in the middle of the sidewalk where he has come to a halt after my violent shove. He's studying me with a calm that is as unnatural as it is infuriating. With flight not really being an option my mind switches into fight mode, adrenaline pumping through my veins, but at least I keep enough sense not to abandon the wall that's supporting my weight better than my weak knees at the moment.

"It's not what you think!" I hiss, or at least intend to, but my voice is a far shot from steady. If anything, I sound as scared shitless as I feel.

"No? Not, you kissed a guy and liked it?" he taunts, his eyes never straying from my face.

"No! I didn't!" I try to protest, my brain still as useless as before.

"Kiss me or like it?" he laughs, and when all I can do is open and close my mouth soundlessly, like a fish caught on land, he adds, "Your hard-on kind of gives it away, you know?"

It must be a testament to my level of intoxication that I actually glance down at my crotch, where my open jacket does frame the bulge in my jeans rather nicely. Still dumbfounded I look up again, finding Jasper's face right in front of my own. I didn't see him move or notice him leaning against the wall right beside me, but there he is, way too close, and way too smug.

If I was in his place now, I would have kept taunting me , but when he speaks, his tone has lost most of its previous sarcasm, while still retaining his usual good-natured humor.

"It's okay, I know you're as drunk as a skunk, and I'm as irresistible as they get."

While he's talking he is looking intently into my eyes, keeping me locked where I am like a deer caught in the headlights. I can't even croak out an answer, even though my panic slowly recedes, and when he realizes that he offers me a small smile.

"If you want to, I'll just forget that ever happened, and we'll go on, get a couple of vodka shots to kill the last remaining working brain cells, and tomorrow you can pretend it was all some weird kind of dream. Or -"

He makes a pointed pause there, and finally my vocal chords start working again.

"Or?"

His smile turns darker.

"Or I can show you that being curious is not a bad thing while I take care of that."

While his words may sound harmless, his hand on my junk is anything but, and I can't help myself as I let out a low moan. The corner of his mouth jerks up further, and I'm again staring transfixed at his lips.

I'm miles out of my comfort zone; I have no idea what I should do now, but his closeness and the way his fingers are cupping my aching cock and balls through the thick denim doesn't exactly help. The fact that I don't really want him to let go and step away from me doesn't, either.

He's clearly taking some pleasure from tormenting me like this. It's partly in spite at this that I eventually lean my face closer to his until I can feel his breath on my face. Realizing that this is all he's going to get from me, he takes charge, closing the distance between us while his free hand on my shoulder pulls me towards him.

His lips are still soft against mine, just as before, but the whole mood is swiftly changing. There's heat now instead of stunted shock, his own need as obvious as my own, and before long I'm matching his fervor and kiss him back. A hint of approving laughter rumbles from his chest when I pull back a little and push my tongue into his mouth.

Suddenly he steps away, leaving me confused, my head spinning. His intent becomes clear when he crouches down in front of me and starts undoing the fly of my jeans. Incapable of reacting, I remain leaning against the wall, then let my head loll back and close my eyes as the cool night air hits my suddenly exposed cock.

A moment later his hot, wet mouth replaces it, and what's left of my semi-coherent thoughts disappears.

Jasper doesn't tease me but takes my whole cock in, deep-throating me with more ease than any woman has ever been capable of. Then he starts to suck me, one hand wrapped around my aching balls, slowly massaging them in turn with each stroke of his mouth, while his other hand is splayed against the wall next to my hip. And he's good, oh, he's good, and within a couple minutes I'm ready to shoot my load down his throat. My eyes are heavy lidded and not quite able to focus on his blond head moving up and down on my cock.

Somehow I manage to grunt out something that probably sounds like the soundtrack to a bad porn flick on the internet. Just before I actually come, he pulls away and finishes me off with his hand instead. I'm oddly fascinated by the way my jizz partially shoots by his head, the rest leaking over his fingers, but the sensation of satisfaction that accompanies my release lets me forget about that momentarily.

I remain leaning against the side of the building, panting loudly into the darkness with my jeans and boxers still around my knees, while he gets up and wipes his hand off on a tissue. The smug grin on his face makes me realize what just happened on a deeper level, and part of the panic is still there, but his calm voice keeps it at bay just like before.

"Come on, pack your goods away so we can get those vodka shots fast. I'm freezing."

I'm only too happy to comply. We're already around the corner and walking down the street before I realize that somehow, between me attacking him and the blowjob, he has managed to pull me into a tiny side street that is even more narrow than the others. That's probably the reason why no one interrupted us. Along those lines I also understand the unspoken offer in his words – that while he probably won't forget what just happened, he's ready to leave it as some unspoken kind of secret between us.

Lost in my thoughts, my brain incapable of even stringing two words together, I don't mind that he's not talking either. Before long we hit the wider, more populated streets beyond which lies the bar quarter of the district. There's a surprising number of people about considering that half of the establishments are closed Sunday night, but we soon reach our goal, the bar Jasper has been talking about. A few quick smiles at the bartender, a black haired girl that I'm not quite sure is old enough to legally drink in all countries of the EU yet, and an array of eight shot glasses appears in front of us.

I down the first without thinking or hesitating, letting the harsh bite of the alcohol burn my throat. The second follows just as quickly, but I force myself to stop after that. It takes some resolve. My fingers toy with one of the empty shot glasses, then I look up at Jasper who is leaning against the bar next to me. He's standing close to me, but not in a 'I just sucked you off in the alley' kind of close. However close that may have been. He's waiting for me to say something, and after a few deep breaths I do. Chicken that I am, the first thing I say is, "Is it just me or do all these songs sound like a remix by David Guetta?" instead of something more meaningful.

"That's probably because he did remix this one, and the one before was a really bad rip-off," Jazz remarks as he takes a sip from his vodka.

"Oh. Yeah. Guess that explains it."

"Tanya had that one on repeat in the reception area last week. I never thought I'd miss her tuning in to one of the local radio stations so much."

"It could have been worse, you know?" I offered.

"How so?"

"It could have been a Falco song remixed."

I couldn't say exactly how that dissolves the residual tension between us but it somehow does, leaving us both grinning and weirdly at ease. While the vodka doesn't help with our choice of topics, our conversation picks up from there and gets more animated by the minute. After all the shots are gone, we both get a glass of whiskey. I'm not entirely sure that I've had only four shots, though, but I've long since stopped caring.

Way too soon the bartender tells us they're closing down for the night, and while I try to decide whether I should get another whiskey or not, Jasper leans closer, almost conspiratorially.

"Have you decided what you're going to do now?"

I look at him a little stupidly.

"Go home?"

"It's almost 2:00 A.M. The underground stopped operating hours ago and it might take awhile to track down a taxi. Might be close to 4:00 A.M. before you get home, and all that's waiting for you there are empty rooms and a cold bed."

I feel my pulse pick up at that, but force my voice to remain at what I hope is a calm level.

"Probably. Got a better idea?"

His smile is innocent enough, but the look he's giving me is not.

"You could stay over at my place. It's only a few minutes' walk from here."

Any other day I would have agreed right away, but what happened in the alley before we got here makes me pause. I know that I'm too out of it to really think this through, but my mind immediately jumps to the possibility of what might happen if I go with him – and I find myself reluctant to stray from there. He doesn't say anything else but gets up to take a leak to give me some more time to mull this over.

Just thinking about the blowjob makes me both anxious and horny at the same time. I've never really felt attracted to guys, but I can't deny a certain amount of curiosity. Jasper has picked up on that in the past, and we've even had a few 'what if' conversations – but until now they've always been strictly rhetorical for one simple reason – Bella. I don't cheat, and turning him down has always been easy.

But now with that reason gone, I'm not sure what to do, what to think. What I am sure of is that my cock is getting hard again and Jasper seems quite willing to offer me more than just his couch to crash on. I'm not even sure if I could physically follow through with it, although I have to admit, feeling his mouth on my cock hasn't been that different than any other blowjob I've had – and an ass is an ass, right? One thing is clear, his offer is for sex, not any kind of relationship. I couldn't contemplate that right now, not because he's a guy, but because my heart is still raw and aching in my chest. I'm sure that once the booze has left my system I'll be reduced to a wallowing piece of misery. But simple fucking? I sure can do that. I think.

I'm still torn with indecision when Jasper returns, but his smug grin tells me I must be looking more convinced about this than I feel. Even so, he does me the courtesy of sitting back down and looking expectantly at me, but I decide to ignore the barkeep's last call. I've had more than enough alcohol to make me reckless and lower my inhibitions; that's by far enough.

"Okay, then let's do this."

"You do realize that you sound like a guy steeling himself for battle, right?" he jokes while he shrugs back into his jacket.

I snort, but my level of intoxication turns it into a loud laugh that he thankfully joins me in. At least I'm not the only one hammered, although I'm not quite sure if that's a good thing or not. I also don't really care, which definitely is.

Even though my mind has kind of ground to a halt – or maybe because of that – we spend the short walk to his apartment in animated and somewhat loud conversation. The city is deserted this time of night, everything looking stark and forbidding, but not in a creepy way. It's more like no one should be roaming these streets at this ungodly hour anymore. The upside is that it's easy to traverse what is usually one of the busiest streets in the city without having to wait, and we quickly reach our destination.

I've never been to Jasper's home before. While he's fiddling with his keys to get into the building, I stare at the walls inside the small atrium of the house. It's one of the old buildings from centuries ago, now converted to a more modern form of habitation. No one needs twelve rooms to house a family and their servants anymore. The inhabitants have tried to lend the bare walls a more cozy feeling; there are a few potted plants and even two chairs and a table outside in the small courtyard as a testament to that.

Before I can get more interested in the rickety furniture, Jasper finally manages to open the door, and we step inside the house. The staircase is wide and I think the granite stairs are old enough to have survived both World Wars, and then some. Our steps echo through the whole building as does our laughter, because I can never resist the tempting echo of such acoustics, and Jasper seems beyond caring what his neighbors might think.

Either the lights don't work or Jasper just doesn't care to switch them on, but either way his doorway is so dark that he can't find the right key again. Getting a little antsy myself, I suddenly think it's a good idea to give him some incentive to be faster, so I push his back against the dark wood and kiss him, roughly. My aim is not exactly true and my teeth hit his chin.

He laughs and makes as if to push me away, but when he realizes that I won't budge, he pulls my face up so that my mouth actually finds his, and eagerly sucks on my bottom lip. I get lost in the sensation of feeling his tongue against my own, and nearly fall down when the door I've been leaning against suddenly opens.

Jasper allows himself a small chuckle while he steadies me, raising my ire in return. Not really caring about moderating my strength, I push him against the inside of the door once we're both in his hallway, using a little more force than necessary. I suddenly don't feel like kissing his mouth anymore – kissing is intimate, and intimacy is a long shot from what I need right now – but he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he eagerly turns his head to the side so that I can attack the column of his throat.

His jacket is definitely in the way and I can't quite figure out how to get it off him, but somehow we still end up without our outer layer of garments. Part of me still waits for my inhibitions to rear their ugly head, but Jasper's hand on my crotch distracts me from wondering about that again.

Uncoordinated and as horny as we are, we still manage to somehow make it into the next room, tearing at each other's clothes along the way. I'm a little surprised when I feel his hand on the naked skin of my back, but I don't care when I manage to divest him of his t-shirt. A quick shove and he lands sprawling on his back on the bed, grinning up at me as I follow.

More kissing and groping ensues, his lips and teeth on my shoulder driving me crazy, but that's nothing against the surge of need he causes when he suddenly pushes me back and starts undoing the fly of my jeans while grinning wryly into my face. I don't even think about stopping him when he hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls both my pants and underwear down in one go. Finally free of its prison my cock stands up proudly, and I hold my breath when Jasper leans forward and wraps his hand around my shaft. The sensation is great, but nothing compared to the need his words arouse in me when he grins at my face.

"Can't tell you how much I want your cock in my ass."

I know this is the moment when I should be running from the room if I ever wanted to hide my curiosity, but right now that thought doesn't even cross my mind. It's an invitation that I can't ignore, and it drags me out of my lust-induced passivity.

It doesn't take much for me to push him back and tear his pants down, particularly as he has somehow managed to unbutton his fly. The sight of his naked, straining cock doesn't deter me at all. I give Jasper a shove that makes him end up halfway on his front. I feel a physical rush running through my whole body as I launch myself at him, pinning him on the bed with my whole body draped over his, with arm across his shoulder blades keeping him there.

He bucks up as if to try to break free, and manages to get onto his knees. His shoulders remain down on the bed, and his head is turned to the side so that he can still look back at me. I grin down at him, shifting my weight so that I'm pressing his torso down even more, making him feel my strength. He grunts, tries to buck, but then gives in and I feel him relax. I shift, my cock accidentally rubbing against his thigh, and he responds with something between a laugh and a moan. That does weird me out a bit but not enough to kill my buzz, and it certainly leaves my cock unaffected.

My brain uses the moment of clarity to remind me that something's still missing, and as if he has read my mind – or more likely, been in this situation plenty of times before – Jasper grunts out a low, "Top drawer of the nightstand."

For a moment I'm conflicted. I just can't let him go like that, but he doesn't rear up when I shift my weight and reach for the indicated piece of furniture. Blindly groping inside, I grab the condoms and lube, leaving them on the bed within reach while I tear open a rubber and pull it over my cock. Not surprisingly, Jasper is watching me but I don't care, and once the condom is properly in place I grab the bottle of lube.

I guess if I was a little less drunk I would take more time to to squirt a hefty amount onto his anus and work two of my fingers into him, but I'm really horny and he doesn't seem to need that much prep work. He definitely seems to approve of me being hunched over him, and I resume my previous position – one arm across his upper back holding him down, while I line up my cock with his ass with my free hand.

I have to force myself to go slowly as I push into him, but the groan that rumbles deep in his chest lets me know that he's not a scared virgin who needs to be pampered and handled with kid gloves. The sensation of his ass tight around my dick is great, but I don't feel like lingering if I don't have to.

Gripping his hip with my free hand, I start to thrust into him, slowly at first. When I feel him push back eagerly, I stop moderating myself. I absentmindedly notice that he's grabbing his own cock, stroking himself while I fuck him, and somehow that knowledge turns me on even more.

Being hunched over him limits my range of movement somewhat, so I eventually stop for a moment to kneel upright behind him, then grab his hips harder so I can fuck him for real. My whole body is screaming for release, the ache in my balls getting painful. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, underscored by both our cries and moans, does me in.

I come with a loud shout, buried deep inside of him. A few moments later I feel him tense up when he orgasms himself, his hand frantic on his cock while his ass milks me dry. I sag onto his back, my forehead resting on his sweat-slicked shoulder, both of us panting in the otherwise silent room.

I'm barely conscious anymore when I feel him shift, pushing me off so that I slide out of him and end up on my side on the bed, but then my whole world turns black, exhaustion and alcohol taking their toll.

I become aware again some infinite time later. 'Waking up' is too strong a term for it; I still feel mostly comatose except for a splitting headache behind my eyes, and my whole body complains when I try to move.

Time passes, either minutes or hours, before I manage to pry my eyes open. Unfamiliar ceiling, unfamiliar light in the room, rather familiar guy next to me on the unfamiliar bed.

In books this is the moment when the main character feels all the previously forgotten details come rushing back to him, but I don't really have any problem remembering what happened last night. We fucked, it was awesome. I'm not sure how much I had to drink, but judging from the magnitude of my hangover it must have been more than it felt like when we got here.

I spend a few minutes staring into space, waiting for my conscience – or inner homophobic tendencies – to kick in, but when my stomach and head remain the only parts of me that complain, I accept that. I'm still glad that Jasper continues to snore softly, still out cold, and I eventually summon the strength to get up.

While I don't feel like running away from him, screaming – the last part in particular a horrifying idea due to my aching head – I also don't feel the desire to linger. Staying would mean having some kind of conversation, probably an awkward one and I simply don't want to talk right now. I need to be alone, just me nursing my hangover, and eventually my thoughts. If my mind ever starts working properly again, that is.

My clothes are strewn all over the room. I must make more noise than I think as I slip them on again; Jasper rolls over in bed before I can make it out of the room. He squints up at the dim light, then his eyes focus on me. I'm surprised to realize that he looks something between disappointed and hurt at seeing me linger by the door, completely dressed.

"You're going already?" he croaks out, sounding about as trashed as I feel, which makes me second guess his emotional state.

Not knowing what to say – or if words are even required – I shrug, then nod before I turn around and slip through the door. I nearly bang my head on a cabinet as I pull on my shoes, then shrug into my coat before making it out of the apartment.

Now the echo of my uneasy steps is no longer as funny as it was last night. Once I'm back outside, the glare of daylight amplifies my discomfort while the rush of traffic all around me does its own job of tormenting me.

I'm already halfway to the nearby underground station, and feeling more like myself with each step I take, when my phone vibrates in my coat pocket. A pang of unease zips through me when I realize that it must be afternoon already, on a Monday, and I haven't called in sick yet, but the number flashing on the screen is not from work. It's also not a call but a text message, which is even more cause for celebration.

It's from Bella, and I already feel a little better when my mind finally makes sense of the words on the screen. She asks if I'm okay, and if we can talk. That's good, isn't it?

Smiling slightly, I slide the phone back into my pocket, then speed up my steps to reach the underground more quickly. Suddenly, my day doesn't seem as bleak any more. Or so I try to tell myself.

Because so many people keep asking me if I will continue this, I've outlined a few chapters of what might happen after this morning with my dear friend L - no idea when I will post them, but it will be a couple of chapters more for this fic.

If you're a fan of great and hot slash fics with realistic characters, please head over to my friend L's profile - her nickname is prassacut, and her wonderful story is 'Eat, Laugh, Fuck'