Jasper
“This is… Ah,” Jasper pulled a face, gesturing out with his hands, causing the tailor to pause in his adjustments of the fit of the jacket. “I mean,” he continued apologetic to the man. “It’s very nice, I’m sure, but…”
“You are the King of Diamonds,” Charlotte laughed at him, flicking the lace fan that she held, the hearts unfolding into a chain of blood-like red against the froth of white. “You have to sparkle, Jasper.”
“Yeah,” he drew the word out. “I think I outsparkle the sun in this costume however.” The suit was black, thankfully, but it was embroidered with gold thread and sequins and crystals competed to outshine each other, stiffening the fabric. The trousers were so form-fitting that they left nothing to the imagination, and the waistcoat was cut to emphasize that.
The jacket, with it’s stiff fabric, when buttoned offered some relief, covering what felt to be the emphasis of his groin. The tailor, however, was folding back the hem with the obvious intention to pin it to show the red and gold lining.
“Umm…” Jasper tried again. “I like the jacket better the way it was.”
“The King of Diamonds doesn’t want to show off the family jewels,” Charlotte snickered.
“No, he doesn’t,” Jasper agreed emphatically. “Really,” he added to the tailor who shrugged slightly and released the fabric that he’d been folding back. “Thank you.”
“You’re no fun, Jasper,” Charlotte tsked.
“I’m not an idiot,” he told her. “I know that you left this fitting until literally the last second on purpose so I couldn’t argue the costume.”
“You knew that it was a masquerade ball,” she reminded him, twisting in front of the mirror in order to admire herself. Her costume styled her as the Queen of Hearts in figure hugging red satin with an overskirt layered with black lace and shimmering with black gemstones. Her hair had been styled and dressed to hang in ringlets over her shoulder, and her lips painted in a tightly pursed heart. A black beauty spot in the shape of a heart rode her cheekbone just below the gold of her mask.
“I did,” he stepped down as the tailor released him. “But I expected a tux and mask not… this,” he reviewed himself in the mirror.
“This is more fun,” she grinned delighted, turning and smoothing her hands down the lapels of the jacket. “And you look so handsome, Jasper.”
“Tell me that we’re not the only people who are going to be dressed like this,” he asked her urgently. “Because if that’s the case, Charlotte, I’m changing right now.”
“It’s a costume themed masquerade ball, with every guest assigned a court depending on whose invite list they came from,” she rolled her eyes as if he were being foolish. “Mother is the Queen of Spades, and father is the King of Clubs. I am the Queen of Hearts, and you, the owner of the family jewels,” she wrinkled her nose with her grin. “Are the King of Diamonds.”
Jasper heaved a sigh. “If dad’s not wearing something stupid like this – forgive me,” he nodded to the tailer who was still packing up his kit. “It’s an amazing suit for someone else. My sister’s taste and mine doesn’t always align, and I made the mistake,” he said through his teeth, turning his eyes back to Charlotte. “Of assuming when Charlotte told me that my suit was ordered, my taste had been taken into account.”
“It’s black, isn’t it?” She replied. “Now put on your mask and stop pouting. Our guests are arriving.”
“I’m not pouting,” Jasper replied as he tied on the mask, the diamond design making clear what house of cards he belonged to. “I am regretting tucking left. You don’t own a cock; you have no idea how awkward trousers this tight are.”
“Aww, Jaspie’s worried he’ll - ”
“Say it, and I’ll step on your hem on the way down the stairs,” he told her as he opened the bedroom door for her. They stepped out into the hallway, the noise of the arriving guests rising to greet them, the voices a cacophony that all but drowned out the stringed quartet who was playing during the arrivals.
A popular band had been setting up in the ballroom when Jasper had returned to the house from the folly where he’d spent much of the last week. At least the music for the main part of the party promised to be decent, he told himself as he paused, one hand on the balustrade, looking down into the foyer that seethed with people and waiters carrying trays of champagne flutes and canapes.
“You would not dare,” Charlotte rapped her fan against his chest. “You’re just sulky because I dragged you out of your folly in order to make you dance the night away.”
“I was in the middle of something,” he agreed. “I’ve only been home a week, Lottie. You didn’t give me time to settle back in.”
“This is your welcome home party, Jaspie,” she told him through her smile as they began to descend the stairs. “Your reintroduction to the pack as the heir-apparent, and to the young pack members, amongst whom you’ll, hopefully, find your mate. You can’t spend all your time in the folly. You have to help dad out with the pack and the business.”
“Hmm,” he couldn’t argue with that. He had been, perhaps, negligent in his duties to his family and pack, spending his time in the folly with his paints, but after five intense years studying, he’d been enjoying the freedom of spending his time as he choose, staying up as long as he liked, waking when suited him, and the folly had been the perfect place for him to do so, in the privacy of the maze, away from the house.
“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll do better.”
“Thank you Jaspie,” she said as they entered the ballroom.
They weren’t the most elaborately dressed amongst the guests, he saw with relief. Some had taken it further, really leaning into the theme. The good thing about a masquerade ball was that they weren’t expected to host, he noted as they passed unnoticed and unremarked amongst the guests. In order to maintain the game of being masked, they could just drift amongst everyone else, and everyone pretended not to know who they were.
There was a lot of curiosity, however, he noted, and stiffened his back, straightening his shoulders, knowing that he was being evaluated and judged by those gazes, and as the next lead alpha of the pack, he had to present himself as the epitome of what a pack looked for in an alpha, even if it were a lie.
It was all a lie, and that was one reason for him hiding in the folly. He had been avoiding what he knew was a very necessary conversation with his family.
“Oh my god,” Charlotte murmured.
“What?” He looked up, following her gaze and felt as if someone had struck him in the gut.
A young man had entered the ballroom, the crowd seeming to part around him naturally. He wore red with black heart details, broad shoulders filling his suit jacket perfectly, the cut following the lean lines of his torso to where it buttoned at his narrow waist.
Jasper wet his lips, catching the bottom one between his teeth. Fuck, he blew out a slow breath, seeking control of his racing heart. There was something to how the other man moved, a combination of predatory confidence and grace, that declared him to be an alpha in every way.
“King of Hearts?” Jasper wondered, breathlessly.
“A Knave, more likely,” Charlotte corrected, her fan working hard, lifting Jasper’s hair.
As if sensing their eyes on him, the Knave looked their way, and smiled.
Jasper“He’s coming this way,” Charlotte whispered digging her elbow into Jasper’s side. “Close your mouth.”Jasper forced his lips into a stiff smile as the Knave held out his hand and he accepted it. “Hello.”“Ah, my King, greetings,” the Knave of Heart’s grin was charming and wicked and his hand in Jasper’s lingered beyond a strictly polite handshake. “I promise I won’t steal your diamonds.” His grey-blue eyes held Jasper’s just as firmly as his hand did. Locking eyes in such a way with the masked stranger was intense and intimate, and Jasper found himself flushed and flustered, the throb of his cock echoing the race of his heart.“Just your heart.”Jasper wasn’t sure he heard the words, or simply wished that they had been spoken, and yet they hung in the air between them, sending a shiver of desire across his skin. The rest of the party, the press of bodies around them, the cacophony of voices fighting to be heard over the music, all faded away. They were alone in the ballroom wit
Jasper“Wow,” the Knave commented from behind him. “Look at this place.”The folly had been built as a conservatory in the shape of an octagon, the roof domed dramatically high overhead, and the floor an elaborate mosaic of brightly colored tiles forming flowers, leaves, and curling vines. Roses grew up the supporting pillars to the roof as a testimony to its origins, although they were the only things still growing there other than the marijuana plant in the bathroom that Jasper had brought home with him from college.In his teen years, Jasper had claimed the space as his art studio, fitting it out with lights and a stereo, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. During his last holidays at home, he’d added the wrought iron bed, which had meant that he could work at his art for as long into the night as he liked, without waking anyone from the household with his comings and goings.And that was what he had done since coming home. He spent his days and nights painting, falling into bed when he
ReidThings had not gone to plan Reid acknowledged as he teased his tongue over Jasper Compton’s cock, gathering the subtly-sweet precum that gathered in his slit, but this was better. This was… fucking amazing, he growled his enjoyment as he sucked Jasper’s cock into his mouth and the other alpha arched, his head thrown back, the tumble of his golden-brown hair spreading like silk over the mattress, and his stomach muscles rigid against the skin.Jasper was a feast of a man, all long, lean limbs and smooth honey-toned skin, and Reid did not know where to rest his eyes as he braced over him, pressing Jasper’s cock into the roof of his mouth, his tongue firmly against Jasper’s frenulum so that each bob of his head dragged along the raphe line from stem to tip, coating Jasper’s cock in saliva and causing the Compton puppy to sob on his moans.The triangle of Jasper's jaw was perfection, the movement of Adam's apple in the exposed length of the throat, the delicately muscled chest and st
ReidJasper raised his eyebrows but stepped back and lay on the bed.“Perfect,” Reid breathed the word. Everything about the other man was perfect. There was something so intensely sensual about Jasper’s long limbs on the tangled bedcovers and the spill of his hair across the pillows as he met Reid’s eyes. The expression in the other man’s eyes hit Reid deep in the guts. Fuck, he thought, he had to be careful, this was already far beyond a casual fuck.Jasper’s thighs spread to make room for Reid to kneel between them, and Reid braced his hands against the wrought iron bed head as he brushed his lips over Jasper’s, feeling the heated silk of them against his own contrasting to the prick of stubble that was breaking free of Jasper’s skin.He kept his body hovering over Jasper’s, wanting to relish the contact of their skin with the slip of oil between them, and took his time kissing the other man, undemanding and gentle, until Jasper relaxed beneath him, his eyes fluttering closed, and
ReidReid woke from a half-doze to the greying light. He could smell the ashtray that was on Reid's side of the bed, overflowing with joints and cigarettes, and the stink of the ash combined with the slippery feeling of having drunk too much made his stomach uneasy, although his werewolf constitution kept it from being a full-blown hangover. The bottle of champagne was empty, along with a bottle of red that Jasper had produced, a testament to his overindulgence.Jasper was a cuddler, sprawled over his back, his hand cupping Reid’s shoulder, and his breath warm against Reid’s skin. For a moment, Reid stayed despite the smell of the ashtray and the knowledge that he had to leave before anyone who might know whom he was woke, comfortable beneath the other man’s body and the skin-to-skin intimacy of the position.Eventually, however, the brightening light motivated him to slide out from under Jasper and pull on his clothes as he messaged Marcella to come and pick him up. He found a sketch
JasperJasper watched the knave slide into the lime-green Spyder, his fingers pressed to the dreamy smile that curved his lips. It had been… incredible. Just incredible. The things the knave had done to him, and that he had reciprocated… “Oh fuck,” he groaned, his eyes rolling back at the memory.“Fuck,” he was hard, his cock straining against his jeans, and standing in the gate of his parent’s house fantasizing about fucking his mate and staring at the now-empty road. “Shit, Jasper, get it together,” he told himself as he closed the gate behind him and crossed the gardens, cutting through to the folly.The scent of sex, linseed oil, and smoke struck him as he stepped back into the folly and did nothing to help the throb of his cock. He looked around the room with fresh eyes and felt his cheeks heat at the mess. He began to pick up discarded clothing and dirty china, before stripping the bed of cum and oil-stained sheets. He startled the maids at the main house by letting himself int
JasperSebastian Compton led Jasper to his study. His office desk was buried beneath layers of paper, building plans laid over maps of the city. He riffled through until he found the one that he sought, setting it to the top.“I am negotiating to buy this building,” he told Jasper, his eyes bright with excitement. Jasper drew closer intrigued as to what lit his father’s eyes in such a way. He could see nothing exceptional about the building on the plans. It looked old, not as large, or tall as a modern building, with the detailed stonework of the past featuring heavily.“You’re wondering what’s special about this building,” Sebastian guessed watching Jasper’s expression. He laughed. “You’re right to wonder. It’s an old building.”“It’s in Morrison territory,” Jasper realized in alarm. “Dad…” He protested. “That will piss them off.”“It’s Morrison territory now,” Sebastian corrected. “But it hasn’t always been so. Originally this building marked the edge of Compton pack land. It was su
JasperJasper took the limo, mainly because Gerald, the driver, was generally insightful and knew everything there was to know about the city. As he slid across the leather backseat, he met Gerald’s eyes in the rearview. “Help,” he said immediately.“How may I be of assistance, Master Jasper?” Gerald’s amusement was indulgent and friendly.“I need a gift. I want it to be special. Something that will last, but something discrete. And I need it by tonight.” Jasper wanted to ensure that when they parted in the morning, the knave had something with him that connected him to Jasper. What he truly wanted was to sink his teeth into his mate, to claim him as his, but he knew that would not be wise. He needed to court the knave first, learn about him, starting with his name… And whilst he was doing that, he needed to begin easing his parents towards the idea of not just a male mate but one from the Morrison pack.Small steps, Jasper, he told himself.“Well,” Gerald considered the problem. “It