Happy Birthday Yoga! From FDM!

A/N: This is for my Israeli sister. My motek. My partner in the insanity of motherhood, being a good Jewish daughter, and slash h00rdom. I love your granola eating hippie self, and I wish you a very happy birthday, with many, many, many happy returns.

You know I do angst, and that fluffy, geeky goodness is not usually my bag, but for you I tried. So, without further ado, I give you: Geekwardsper.

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“NOOOO!” I screamed as my Word program blipped and became the Blue Screen of Death.

“No, no, no, no, no,” I continued, as I frantically began pressing buttons, attempting a restart, attempting mouth-to-mouth if it would get the damn thing to work.

Nothing. Not even a flicker. Not even a new error message. Just . . . nothing.

“Please let it be no big deal. Please let it be no big deal,” I chanted in my head as I called the local in-home computer repair company. You know the one. With all those cute little cars with the logo on the side? Yeah, that one.

About an hour and a half, and one Valium later, there was a knock at the door. “Oh thank fuck!” I yelled as I yanked the door open, surprising the guy on the other side, who still had his fist up as if to knock again. He all but jumped and dropped his clipboard.

“Oh shit! Sorry,” I said as I leaned down to help him. I reached for the clipboard, but so did he and our heads connected with a loud “thunk.”

“Fuck,” I hissed and rubbed my forehead.

“Ow,” he cried out, then stumbled and fell on his ass.

I couldn’t help it and started laughing. “Ah hell, I’m sorry,” I said and extended my hand. He caught it and I hauled him up, a little too hard perhaps since I practically pulled him into a hug.

Hmmm. Smells nice.

“Ahh, Mr. Whitlock?” he asked looking down at his clipboard.

“Yeah, that’s me, but you can just call me Grace,” I joked.

His head was still down, looking at the papers in front of him, and I noticed that his hair was really thick and wild. It reminded me a little of James Dean in East of Eden, only it was the color of a dirty penny, where only hints of the original copper shine through. I could just see his forehead, furrowing in confusion as he flipped the paperwork.

“Uh, Grace? Ummm, I have Jasper. Sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled, and I laughed again.

He looked up at me and my laugh died in my throat. Oh fuck me. He’s gorgeous. His eyes—surrounded by large, thick-framed Buddy Holly style glasses—were amber, ringed by dark brown, but the golden yellow spun out from his pupils in a starburst pattern. They were fringed by the thickest, darkest set of lashes I’d seen this side of a Lady GaGa video, and they were staring back at me with a slightly panicked expression.

I realized I was staring and stuttered out, “Oh umm, that was a joke. Never mind,” I muttered. “Yeah, Jasper. That’s me. Jasper Whitlock.” Okay Whitlock. Shut the fuck up, now.

“Oh,” he said and . . . blushed. He fucking blushed. And it was a beautiful shade of crimson that pinked his cheeks and flushed his neck, and as I brought my gaze back up I realized his mouth was still slightly “o” shaped and that his lips were full, lush, and would look incredible wrapped around my dick.

I shook my head to snap myself out of my fantasy and stepped back to let him in. “Please, come in. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

He stumbled over the threshold, but caught himself. He turned to me, blushing again and pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “Oh, I’m Ed . . . Edward,” he stuttered. Did he just stare at my mouth?

I felt my mouth widen in a smile and said, “Welcome, Edward, and please tell me you can save Precious.”

And that’s when he snorted. Then his eyes went wide and he clapped his hand—his really large hand, with very long fingers—to his mouth in embarrassment. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” he apologized.

I laughed. “Oh, hell no. Go right ahead,” I said. “I know. I know. What can I say? I’m an unrepentant Tolkein fan.”

He broke out into a grin then, and it lit up his face. His eyes crinkled in the corners, and that kissable mouth of his widened, revealing straight, white teeth. I felt a tightening in my gut as I realized: I want to kiss the computer boy. My eyes strayed down, trailing over his chest which was hidden by the overly-large blue polo-style shirt that was his uniform, to his narrow hips which were just visible below the neatly tucked in shirt, and encased in a pair of jeans. I continued my downward gaze and was disappointed to realize that the jeans were relaxed and slightly baggy, hiding any chance of checking out his package.

But the best part? He was wearing red and black Clash Chucks.

I may have whimpered, and then I realized that it had grown awkwardly silent. “So ummm, yeah. This way,” I muttered, feeling all kinds of foolish and obvious. The guy was probably straight anyway. In fact, a guy that cute probably had a girlfriend too.

I kept my eyes averted as I led him to my office and pointed to Precious.

“Oh wow,” Edward said.

“Yeah, I know, she’s old, but everything is on there, man,” I said in a panic, looking up at him.

But Edward wasn’t looking at Precious. He was staring at my walls of books. “This is incredible,” he whispered.

“Oh,” I mumbled and scratched the back of my neck. “Yeah, uh, I have a thing for books, I guess.”

“I’d say. No way! Is that a first edition of The Hobbit?” he asked turning to look at me.

I nodded.

“Wow!” he exclaimed. “That’s, that’s just . . . wow.”

Damn he was cute. And fuck, he recognized a first edition Hobbit! “Ummm, you want to see it?”

What the fuck? I never let anyone touch that book and yet, there I was offering to let him look at it.

“Really?”

I smiled at his enthusiasm. Not many people felt the way I did about books, or Tolkein. I pulled the book down and handed it to him.

He held it in his hands for a moment, not opening it, just running his fingers over the cover and the raised lettering, his moves slow, reverent. “May I?” he looked up at me, asking permission to open it, and I nodded, looking forward to his reaction.

“Oh my God,” he breathed. “Is this?” he gulped. “Is this really signed?”

“Yeah.”

“But . . . but . . . this is so rare! Tolkein hardly signed any books! Jesus, this must have cost a fortune!” he exclaimed, and then he clapped his hand over his mouth again, and that gorgeous blush flared along his skin. “Oh man, that was so inappropriate. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry,” he stammered and handed the book back to me.

Ours fingers touched as he handed me the book and something passed between us. I heard Edward’s intake of breath and when I looked at him he was staring at his fingers. Well, it was good to know I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Then he coughed and said, “So, umm, yeah uh, what’s wrong with Precious?”

Precious? Oh yeah, Precious.

“I think she’s dead,” I said.

He gave a small snort and asked, “What were you doing when she gave up the ghost?”

“Writing.”

“Writing?”

“Uh yeah, I’m a writer.”

“Cool,” he said looking up at me from under his lashes. I think my cock twitched.

“I uh, I was using Word.”

“Okay, give me a few minutes here.”

I sat, but realized that I was just staring at Edward and was becoming fidgety. I stood suddenly and Edward’s eyes shot up to me. “Do you . . . do you want something to drink?” I asked.

“Uh, sure?” he shrugged.

I left the room and headed to the kitchen. I shook my head, trying to clear it of Edward. The guy was . . . well, he was driving me to distraction. I couldn’t put my finger on it either. The guy was hot, in a geeky way, but my gaydar was completely off with regards to him and I couldn’t figure out if he batted for my team or not. I hadn’t been this unsure about a guy since I first came out in college.

I reached into the fridge and, out of habit, grabbed a couple of beers. Then I didn’t know that was a good idea, so I also grabbed a couple bottles of water. Truth was, I really wanted the beer, and I wanted Edward to want the beer. I wanted to relax, and hoped he would to. I headed back into the room and Edward looked up.

Fuck me. I was struck by how . . . right he looked sitting at my desk, like it was a Sunday morning and he was having his coffee right there. I tried to shake the image. “Uhh, beer?”

Edward eyed the green bottle with the white, red and gold label, and I saw the disappointment cross his face. “I shouldn’t . . . on duty and all that,” he replied.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.” He quirked his brows. “Seriously,” I said. “I hate drinking alone.”

He smiled, reached for the bottle and said, “Okay, but if I get fired, I’m coming after you.”

“Promise?”

As soon as I said it, I wanted to take it back. I was so embarrassed by my . . . obviousness.

Edward blushed again and turned back to the computer. I saw him take a long swig from the bottle, and then I could have sworn I heard him whisper, “As if I’d get so lucky.”

Oh really?

Edward continued to work on Precious, and hell if I knew what he was doing. After a little while he asked, “Do you have everything backed up?”

I looked up and gulped. “Backed up? I uh, well I meant to, but I just haven’t gotten . . . shit. I’m going to lose everything, aren’t I?”

“Ummm, maybe?” he hedged. “Hang on. I’m going to try something . . .”

Two hours later I was on my third beer, and Edward was still messing with Precious. Frankly, his presence was messing with me, although, it could have been the combo of beer and my earlier Valium. I sat sprawled in on the leather couch, an earlier print out of my story was in my hands and I was supposed to be editing. Instead, I kept staring at Edward. Staring and fantasizing, and getting hard.

Yeah, awkward.

I shifted in my seat trying to hide the problem. I looked up and . . . busted. Edward was staring straight at me, lips just parted as if he was about to say something and stopped. And fuck if that didn’t make the problem worse. I really, really liked his lips.

He blushed again and then stammered, “Uh, c . . . can I use your bathroom?” and he indicated his empty beer bottle.

Bathroom, bedroom, bent over the kitchen counter . . .

“Sure, yeah it’s just down the hall to the right.” No way I was getting up to show him. Not with what was going on in my pants.

“Thanks,” he muttered and headed down the hall.

Two minutes later I heard a flush and then a loud crash, followed by a yell.

“Shit!” I jumped up and ran to the bathroom. “Edward! Edward! Hey man, are you okay?”

All I heard was a low moan. That was it. I turned and rammed the door with my shoulder. It opened easier than I thought it would, but it also hurt a hell of a lot more than it looked like in the movies.

I found Edward sprawled on the floor, blood trickling from his nose, one hand holding the side of his head and the other on the floor keeping him upright. His glasses were on the floor next to him, but miraculously survived the carnage.

“Ah hell, Edward! Are you okay?” I asked as reached him. I looked around and realized the crash I’d heard was a combination of Edward and the towel bar, which was torn off the wall.

He shook his head a little. “I, uh, think so,” he said as he tried to get up. “I’m so sorry,” he began. But I shook off his apology.

“Here,” I said as I grabbed his upper arm and helped him over to the toilet seat. I handed him his glasses, and then grabbed a washcloth from the shelf above the toilet, all too aware of Edward’s breath against my side as I reached over him. I rinsed the towel in cold water, wrung it out, and then squatted down once more, my face level with his. “It doesn’t look too bad.” I spoke softly as I reached forward to dab at the blood on his face. He flinched, so I took hold of his chin with my other hand and as gently as possible began to wipe away the blood. He stared at me. Just stared at me as I worked. I couldn’t concentrate with his eyes on mine, so I dropped my gaze.

Which did absolutely nothing for my concentration when I realized Edward had fallen before he finished buttoning up his jeans, and I caught an eyeful of bronze curls peeking out of his fly. My dick jumped in my pants when I realized he was going commando. And when I say my dick jumped, I mean jumped, like it was trying to attack him with or without me. I couldn’t help it and a small groan escaped my mouth.

Fuck. There was no hiding that.

“Jasper?” he whispered. When I didn’t look up he said, “Jasper, please look at me.”

I looked up at him, dropped my hands from his face, and started to rise. “Yeah, sorry Edward, ummm, I didn’t mean to embarrass you or anything, but yeah, okay,” I babbled.

Edward grabbed my hands, forcing me to stay in a crouch and face him. “It’s okay,” he said.

Ooookay. Not a resounding acceptance of my homosexuality, but at least he wasn’t going to file a sexual harassment case against me. I tried to pull my hands away, but he tightened his grip.

“No, I meant you didn’t embarrass me, Jasper. I mean, I’m embarrassed, but not . . .” he let go of my hands and tugged at his hair in frustration.

I was mesmerized and more than a little humored by the fact that he seemed as inarticulate as me at that moment.

He was still tugging at his hair and mumbling something for a good thirty seconds after. I got a little concerned. Maybe he hit his head harder than I thought. “Edward?”

His eyes shot back to mine, he took a deep breath, and muttered, “Ah, hell,” before cupping my face in his hands and pulling me in for a kiss.

He crushed his lips to mine a little too hard, and his glasses got smooshed against his face, and it was clumsy and funny, but neither of us pulled away. Instead my hands found their way into his hair and I tilted my head, giving us better access to each other’s mouths. After that first fumble, when we each realized the other wasn’t running away, the kiss softened, deepened.

His lips were as full and delicious as I first thought, and when I opened my mouth to him, his tongue slipped in, warm, wet and perfect. I groaned again as I brought one of my hands down his back and pulled him forward on the seat, sliding him closer to me. I dropped to my knees and wrapped my arm around him, bringing him chest to chest with me, but it also put me in between his legs, and up against what was no longer hidden by his baggy jeans. One of his hands slipped around to my back, hugging me to him, while the other continued to cup my face, his thumb stroking my cheek.

As our bodies made full contact, he whimpered into my mouth and I couldn’t help the slight curving of my lips into a smile. I bucked my hips ever so slightly, and was rewarded with the feel of his hand against my back fisting my shirt, accompanied by a full blown moan. His head fell back and I attacked his neck, placing soft, wet kisses along the tender skin and working my way across his jaw. His hips jerked against me, and I knew I had to get him out of there, before we wound up sprawled on my bathroom floor.

I pulled back a little and whispered, “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

His face was flushed and his lips were pouty and swollen, but he grabbed his glasses and gave me room to get up. I stood and tugged on his hand, pulling him behind me as I walked out of the bathroom. As soon as we were out in the hallway though, he pushed me against the wall with the full length of his body against me and attacked my mouth again.

I wanted to be somewhere more comfortable, but my study or the bedroom? I finally decided on the study, because I didn’t want to presume too much and, frankly, because it was closer and it had a couch if my presumptions weren’t off. I pushed him back, but kept my mouth on his and we made our way stumbling and kissing to the study.

When we reached the couch—still clutching each other, mouths in a frenzy of wet and soft and tongues, pelvises grinding—we fell onto it . . . and managed to clank our teeth together. We stopped in surprise. Edward, between my legs and spread over my chest, his weight on me just delicious and . . . right . . . pulled back, embarrassed again.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered and scrubbed his hand over his face, pushing his glasses up on his forehead.

I sat up. “Hey,” I said trying to catch his eyes. “Edward, look at me,” I asked as I stroked his cheek.

He glanced over at me. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m just not good at . . . this,” he said motioning his hand back and forth between us.

“I beg to differ,” I said. “I think you’re very good at this.” I leaned forward and kissed the side of his neck. “Very good,” I whispered against his skin. I heard him suck in a breath and I pulled away. “But I don’t want to rush you,” I continued, surprised at my own words but I realized it was the truth. I didn’t want to fuck Edward. Or, rather, I didn’t want to just fuck Edward. I wanted to take him out on a date and get to know him better. I wanted . . . ah crap. I just wanted more.

He let out a breath and said, “I was just thinking the same thing. That I don’t want to rush you, that is. Well, and that you’re very good . . . and . . .” he rambled. I cut him off with another kiss, and this time it wasn’t rushed or clumsy or frenzied. It was slow and soft and sweet. We kissed like that for another minute, until something pinged and we broke off and both looked over at Precious and chuckled. A chat window had popped up on the screen.

“Besides,” I said nodding at the computer. “I wouldn’t want to get you in any trouble with your boss. You probably have to check in or something and—”

“Not a problem,” he said.

“Seriously, Edward. I wouldn’t want you to get in any trouble just because I can’t keep my hands off you,” I grinned.

“Honestly, that’s not my boss. I don’t have to check in with anyone or anything,” he said.

“Edward, c’mon, you’ve been here for hours. Someone has to be wondering where you disappeared to.”

He huffed again, and then spoke so quickly I wasn’t sure I heard him right.

“Idont’havetocheckinwithanyonebecauseI’mtheboss.”

“Excuse me? Did you just say you’re the boss?”

Edward scratched the back of his head and grinned at me sheepishly. “Ummm, yeah?”

“But you have like a boss boss right?”

He shook his head slowly and bit his lip.

“I’m . . . Edward, who are you?”

He sighed. “I own the company, Jasper.”

“Excuse me? I thought you just said you own the company.” I must have looked like a gaping fish just then.

“I do.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing here instead of sitting behind some desk in a cushy office?” I asked.

He blushed again—and fuck I really loved that blush—before stammering, “I ah . . . I don’t like the business end of things. I let my brother, Emmett handle that. I just like to mess with computers.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s . . . that’s just—”

“Totally geeky. I know,” he said with a sigh.

“Well, maybe a little,” I teased. “But I happen to think geeky is pretty hot right now.”

He looked up at me, surprise written all over his face. “Really?”

“Really,” I answered. “Seriously hot,” I whispered and kissed him again. I really liked kissing him. I felt him smile against my lips, but before we could take it any further, the chat window pinged again.

“I’d better go check. I had my guys doing a remote test on Precious,” and he grinned as he said her name.

He sat back down and began typing. I grabbed my beer that was still sitting on the side table and watched him. Yes he was geeky, but he was also fucking gorgeous. And since I’d had my hands all over him and my body up against his, I knew exactly what he was hiding under those non-descript clothes, and it felt like a hard, lean body. He was no gym rat, but he felt really good under my fingers and I couldn’t wait to see what he looked like in nothing but his skin.

I tilted the bottle back to my lips and took a long swallow. As I drank, my mouth wrapped around the bottle’s neck, and I caught Edward watching me. He licked his lips and swallowed hard. I quirked a brow at him and ran my tongue around the rim of the bottle.

“Oh god,” he breathed.

I grinned, and there was another ping, but Edward was still staring at me. My grin turned into a broad smile as I heard another ping and Edward’s eyes were still locked on me. I tilted the bottle in the direction of Precious just as I heard another ping. “Ah, Edward, I think someone is trying to get your attention,” I teased.

“What?” he asked startled out of his stare. “Oh, umm, yeah,” he muttered and turned back to the computer.

I watched him for another minute, and then I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed more of him.

I walked over to him and ghosted my hand down his neck to his shoulder. I heard his breath hitch. I leaned over and whispered, “Whatever happens, don’t stop your work, or your chat.

Do you understand?”

He nodded and let out a shaky breath, but continued typing.

I kissed his neck, and ran my tongue across his skin, tasting the salty tang of him. I traced the shell of his ear before nipping the lobe and whispered, “Beautiful.” A low moan escaped his mouth, but he kept his eyes on the screen in front of him.

I came around, almost in front of him and dropped to my knees. I ducked under his arm and with a hand on each of his knees I pushed his legs further apart and moved in between. As I slid my hands up and down his thighs, he groaned and dropped his hands to my shoulders.

“Nah ah,” I admonished just as another ping sounded. “Besides, your boys need you.”

“Jesus,” he whispered as his hands resumed their place on my keyboard.

I cupped him through his jeans, eliciting a strangled sound from his throat, but to his credit, he kept on typing. I popped open the buttons of his jeans and his cock practically sprang out of them. And oh my fuck, what a sight it was. Big, thick, beautiful, and hard as steel . . . for me.

I wrapped my hand around the base and gave it a couple of experimental pumps. Edward’s hips shot forward, and I heard him gasp.

I didn’t wait.

I leaned forward and licked the tip, enjoying the sound of Edward’s moan as I tasted him.

“Mmmm,” I moaned and swirled my tongue around the tip once more. I looked up at Edward although his hands were still on the keyboard, he was looking down at me. His eyes were slightly wild and his cheeks were flushed.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered.

Edward’s eyes closed and he took a deep breath. “You’re killing me here,” he moaned, but began to type again.

That’s when I plunged him into my mouth.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” he groaned.

I continued to work him with my mouth, loving the feel of him against my tongue, the slick, wet slide of soft skin against hard muscle. I heard him type a little more and I sucked harder.

He gasped and then his hands dropped to my head. A stream of moans, expletives and grunts began to issue from him, and he started to buck into my mouth. As he got closer to his orgasm, his fingers tightened in my hair and he began to guide me a bit more forcefully, almost, but not quite, fucking my face, as the litany of profanities continued to spill from him.

Damn. Edward had a potty mouth. Who knew? It was the fucking hottest thing I’d heard and seen in a long time. It’s always the quiet ones. And I couldn’t help but wonder what other quirk or kink he had tucked away behind those geek boy glasses.

“That’s it. Fuck yeah. That’s it. Right there. I’m . . . I’m . . . Fuck, fuck, fuck, YES!” he shouted as he came, pulsing in my mouth.

I finished cleaning him off and released him with a soft “pop.” When I looked up at him he was staring down at me with disbelieving eyes.

“Jasper, that was . . . that was . . . fuck, that was incredible,” he said and pulled me up for a kiss.

“Thank you,” he whispered against my mouth. Then he pulled back and looked at me, nervous and awkward again. “Ummm, would you . . . ah, ummm, would . . .” he trailed off, blushing again.

“Edward, what is it?”

“Ahwouldliketohavedinnerwithmetonight?” he asked in a rush.

I smiled. He was too cute; so nervous, as if I hadn’t just had his dick in my mouth. “Yes. I would very much like to have dinner with you,” I told him.

“Oh thank god, ‘cause I just emailed my dad that I wouldn’t be coming to their house for dinner tonight.”

I furrowed my brows. “You emailed . . . what?”

“Well you told me not to stop typing.”

“Yeah but I thought you were working on Precious!”

“Precious is fixed. They just pinged the results of the last remote test. And I wasn’t going to do anything that would make you stop what you were doing,” he said with a grin.

“You are sneaky,” I said playfully. I turned and looked at Precious. “Really? All fixed?”

“Yup,” he said as he stood. I followed him up, and he pulled me in for a kiss. “C’mon, let’s get something to eat. I have a feeling we’re going to need our strength later,” he whispered against my lips.

Oh yeah. It’s always the quiet ones.

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a/n: I must to be thanking Greenabsinthia for coming up with Precious, which she does not yet know I borrowed, but was the name of her poor, beloved, and now finally dead laptop.