A/N: Wooo. We won third place in the Anything Goes contest. Thank you so much to everyone who participated.

Here was the great thing about audio books: when you had your headphones on, no one could tell what the heck you were listening to. It wasn't my fault that there were sex scenes in a lot of books.

Audio porn—totally safe for work.

Whenever a sexy scene would come on, I'd find a reason to be up and about. It gave me a perverse charge. I got my mail, made copies—generally went about my business, smiling and nodding at my coworkers as I walked around the cubicle farm. They'd never guess that someone's voice was in my ear, reading to me about how much they loved to suck big, fat, purple-headed cocks.

What? I didn't say it was good porn. In fact, really, it was awkward most of the time. Seriously, there were no good words for balls. I've tried every one, and none of them sound good. And really, describing sex wasn't all that sexy. It was all, he put his leg here, and the other guy used his mouth with just this particular amount of teeth, and…

Look, describing body parts. What they're doing, and how much lubrication is involved isn't ever going to be sexy. Leave it at that.

The point was, I sat in my little cubicle every day listening to things that would have gotten me fired for sexual harassment, if I was watching them, and no one was the wiser. Well, almost no one.

The exception was my coworker-turned-friend, Emmett Cullen.

See, the one flaw in my brilliant plan to stick it to corporate America—pun intended—was that it depended on me wearing earphones. Seeing as I listened to audiobooks on my phone—and God only knew, I couldn't go anywhere without my phone—I had to disconnect sometimes. Then, when I got back to my desk, I'd press play without putting the headphones back in the jack.

Yeah, you guessed it. My phone started blaring out whatever book I was reading. Most of the time, it wasn't a big deal. I didn't listen to straight-up erotica books. I listened to regular novels which just happened to have sex scenes in them. The narrator got out maybe a couple of words before I shut the program down or shoved the headphones in the jack.

Except this one time.

One time, I pressed play in the wrong place at the wrong time, just as the narrator was imitating a (terrible) groan of ecstasy. I was so freaked out, it took me a few extra seconds to turn the program off while the narrator was all, "Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck me. Fuck me. Harder, Mitch. Oh, fuck what your cock does to me baby, yeeeee—"

And by that time, Emmett was giggling his fool head off, and a friendship was born. I had to explain to him what was going on. He took me out to lunch and made me play him the book when we were in his car.

"How the hell does this shit do anything for you?" Emmett asked, breaking the long, ridiculously awkward silence after I'd played him the sex scene.

I snickered. "Doesn't do anything for me. At least not like that. Kind of a conflict of interest at work, don't you think?"

"Hey, man, I'm going to try not to, if it's all the same to you."

Now, I was over my embarrassment. Whenever I got to a particularly horrible sex scene, I would play it for Emmett so we could cackle together.

"I still don't get why you listen to this shit. It's so bad," Emmett said on one such porn-filled lunch break.

"It's an audiobook. The point isn't actually the sex. Well..." I smirked. "Not usually, anyway. I know you don't like books without pictures, but I do. It's the only way I get to read these days."

I had school, work, and obligations to my family—a little brother and sister much younger than me. I only had time to listen to books.

"So, you're trying to tell me you read Playgirl for the articles?" Emmett asked, chortling.

I threw a fry at him. The sonovabitch caught it in his mouth, and maybe I lamented a little bit that Emmett was as straight as they come. Just a little, though, and only because he had these amazing green eyes that drove me a little bit crazy. I couldn't help the twinge of attraction, and it was only that—a twinge.

While I was busy lamenting how pretty his eyes were, the light kind of faded from them. Emmett ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. Weird. "You okay, man?" I asked.

"Yeah." Emmett checked his phone. It must have been close enough to one o'clock, because he started the car again. "I was just wondering if you'd help me out with something."

"No way am I doing your recertification interviews again."

He shook his head. "No, man. I just feel like a dick for asking you to do me a favor when I haven't asked you to hang out before. It's not like I wouldn't want to hang out with you alone, you know? Just, life is all...lifey."

"Emmett, what the hell are you babbling about?"

He sighed. "Really long story short? There was some drama between my brother and me a few years back. We're speaking again, but it's that crappy kind of speaking." He huffed. "Gotta tell you, man, I'm not good at that stuff. I'm good at sticking my foot in my mouth, and Edward is good at holding grudges."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"I thought we could hang out. Get a beer or something. See, he's gay."

Oh, here we go. I folded my arms across my chest. "And all us gay guys have to get along, right? Because we have that in common—we like to look at a nice ass."

"Shit, who doesn't like to look at a nice ass?" Emmett shook his head. "It's not that, dude. Bleh. See? This is exactly what I mean." He laughed. "And this is also why I want you to come with me. You have no idea how often you sound exactly like him. I want you to go because I know he'll like you. He and I are still kind of defensive around each other."

He glanced at me as he pulled up to a red light. "Look, let me get serious on you for a second. Losing my brother for all that time sucked pretty damn hard. I don't want to mess it up again. I just need a buffer, I guess."

I stared at him, and after a few seconds, I laughed. "Jesus damn. That was deep, and hella thoughtful, actually."

"See?" Emmett threw one hand up, keeping the other hand on the wheel as he drove. "I need you to tell him shit like that, too. He'll never believe it coming out of my mouth."

~0~

It was Friday morning. I yawned as I got ready and had to check myself. Right. I was supposed to go out with Emmett and his brother tonight. Since we were going right after work, I had to either dress snazzy now or bring something that I could change into.

I didn't date, really. Not that I didn't want to. Between school and work, I barely had time to breathe. But, I wasn't averse to a good hook-up either. Life was meant to be lived, and I wasn't going to deny myself a flirt, or a dance, or a kiss, or a good fuck when one was thrown in my lap.

Not that I was thinking of perving on Emmett's brother. First of all, it's not like I wanted any guy just because he was gay. We came in all shapes and sizes and, most importantly, attitudes. I wasn't going to kiss an asshole.

Well, I mean, a jerk. Let's get real. I was totally into kissing assholes.

Anyway. The second thing was, Emmett had already said that Edward wasn't a hook-up kind of guy. He'd had a steady boyfriend who, last Emmett heard, had broken his heart. Before that guy, he'd dated another guy for a solid few months before they decided to call it quits on account of low chemistry and busy schedules.

Really, that was better. Starting something with my buddy's brother sounded like a social mishap waiting to happen. Weren't there rules for that kind of thing?

Whatever. The point was, it never hurt to look nice. You never knew what was going to happen.

But planning how to look fabulous takes time and effort, which made me late for work. Late for work meant no coffee, meant Jasper was a grumpy boy. And sleepy, a condition which was not helped by the fact my current narrator had a voice that encouraged napping.

I flipped through my audio library. It never failed. It didn't matter that I had about two hundred unread books, none of them were catching my attention. So, I logged in to the Audible shop and started scrolling.

"Two Crossed Swords." I giggled. Oh, and there was a guy in a kilt making the I-hate-you-I-love-you eyes at a guy in a red coat. An Englishman then? I pulled up the summary. Yep. Scot vs Englishman. That promised to get saucy. Something to talk about at dinner then? Well, if Emmett's brother wasn't a prude, anyway. Maybe we could all laugh at how bad the sex scenes were. And I already knew they were going to be epic-terrible.

"Sold." I spent the credit.

The story turned out to be pretty good, but, more importantly at the moment, the narrator was excellent. He had a rich voice and yet light. Musical, almost. It drew me in, mesmerized me. I got annoyed when I actually had to concentrate on my work.

And then...it happened. Just when it looked like the two main characters were actually going to kill each other this time, the Scot grabbed the Englishman by his stupid red coat and pulled him and then…

He kissed him. Of course he kissed him. Anybody who didn't see that coming was blind. God, I loved a good first kiss. This author and this narrator gave a damn good kiss. It was all desperate and furious. Lips and teeth and their hands grabbing and pulling and pushing. Nostrils flaring as they struggled to breathe because neither of them were letting go.

One of them tripped, and they were on the ground, and… They weren't going to stop.

"Whoa, guys. Everything at once, huh?" I muttered to myself. I mentally shushed myself because the scene was intense. They were going to ruin it with awkward sex, but until then, I wanted to enjoy every second of it. By this time, my fingers had paused on the keyboard. Who could work when two guys with sexy accents were ripping each other's clothes off?

I waited for it to turn awkward. The narrator started to talk about the planes of the Scot's chest. Pushes and shoves turned into fervent grips, nips, they started to breathe each other in, and…

This wasn't getting awkward. This was anything but awkward. My face was hot. My skin kind of tingled. The Scot and the Englishman were exploring each other's bodies, taking warm, hardening flesh in their hands and… Good lord almighty, this narrator had managed to make the word balls sound sexy. His voice kind of caressed the word—all heat and thrill, and…

I threw the headphones as far away from me as my desk allowed and smacked at my phone until I pressed pause. With a groan, I collapsed forward on my desk, my head in my hands.

I had a problem. A, well, not to toot my own horn, but a slightly bigger than average problem.

That was fucking hot. It was like I didn't hear the words—not really. It was like I was sitting between the narrator's legs, his legs outlining mine, my back against the planes of his chest (of course), and him whispering filthy things in my ear as his hands—

"Hey, Jazz."

"Gah!" I sat up straight, feeling guilty as hell. "I was just…" I rubbed the back of my neck.

Emmett furrowed his brow. "Dude. I'm not your damn supervisor. What were you doing? Surfing the web on company time? Like I give a fuck."

"Yeah. You caught me by surprise." My throat is all scratchy. I cleared it, and wished I had some water nearby. "Anyway. What's up?" The last word came out kind of strangled. I felt like giggling because I knew exactly what was up.

He gave me a weird look. "Quitting time, man. Come on."

I started to get up automatically, realized what a bad idea that was, and swiveled my seat to face away from him. "Yeah, uh. I'll be down in a minute, okay? Just gotta send one more e-mail."

Another weird look. "Sure. Okay."

Finally, he left. I thumped my head on my desk again and just chuckled under my breath all manic-like. Christ, I hadn't gotten hard like that in a public place since I was a hormonal teenager.

I brought up a mental list of gay-bashing politicians and replayed some of the more disgusting and dehumanizing things they'd said. Anger got my blood pumping in the right direction anyway. To distract myself from that—political Jasper was rarely a good dinner companion—I picked up my phone gingerly, as though it could burn me. I started up Audible again, but just to look at the narrator's name.

Richard Carlyle. I snorted. Of course his name was Dick. It's like he did it on purpose.

In control of myself now, I got ready to go. Regardless how things went tonight, at least now I knew Richard Carlyle could keep me warm when I was finally ready to climb in bed. I was already looking forward to that orgasm.

~0~

Edward Cullen turned out to be six feet of pure eye candy. Holy mother of madness.

Nice shoes—wanna fuck?

Legs—long and lean.

Ass—just a glimpse, but I could already tell I was going to like it. No surprise there.

I was a gentleman, so my eyes skipped right over the package. Mostly.

Chest—not as broad as me, but that was neither here nor there, really. That shirt looked great on him.

Chin—regal.

Mouth—Quirked up on one side.

Eyes—fuck me. Those were Emmett's eyes, which I suppose made sense given that they were brothers. Different, though. There was something...more behind those eyes. Not that Emmett was dim or dull. But Emmett wasn't the type of guy who had a constant inner monologue going. Edward seemed to be.

Hair—artfully tousled, of course. Bed head. Fuck, why? Because the rest of him wasn't alluring enough?

Hand—currently in mine. Shaking. Nice, firm handshake. I looked in his eyes again, and his lopsided grin turned into a smirk. "It's nice to meet you, Jasper."

Fuck if it wasn't the second great voice I'd run into today. Better of course, both because this one was in the flesh and because he wasn't talking about balls or running his hands over the planes of my chest. Although, I wouldn't have said no if he was. His voice was velvet-smooth and on the high side of deep—just right.

I flashed him a grin of my own, and I thought I heard his breath catch. Yeah, I wasn't going to pretend I didn't know I looked damn good. "The pleasure's all mine," I said.

~0~

Edward apparently also thought he needed a buffer because he'd brought along his bestie—a pretty woman named Bella. She was quiet, as far as I could tell. Although, that might have been an unfair assessment. I think Edward and I were dominating the conversation.

Well, what? The guy was a voracious reader like me.

"Doesn't it ever strike you as weird? Gay lit is dominated by hetero white female authors," Edward said.

"Well, first of all, who's to say who's hetero these days? Practically no one is just straight anymore." I paused, replaying my words. Huh. I guess I'd had a couple of drinks at that point. "Even if they're married to men, it doesn't mean they've never dabbled, you know? More in the middle of the spectrum than on either end and all that."

Edward waved a hand. "Right."

"Then, literature in general is dominated by white authors because what else is new?"

Edward smirked. "Right."

"I've actually thought about this a lot. I think—"

Bella cleared her throat and talked over me. "I think we've all been dry for like ten minutes," she said with a smile. She wrapped her arm around Edward's and tugged. "Let me interrupt this conversation before we all lose our healthy buzz. Come on. Let's get the next round."

Okay, so, not soft spoken. We really were dominating the conversation. Whoops.

Sure enough, Emmett was giving me a wry look. "I know I brought you with me because I thought you and my brother had enough in common to keep the conversation flowing, but at this point, Bella and I might as well be sitting at another table."

I rolled my shoulders and gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Your brother is, ah...interesting."

"Chyeah. I kind of caught that you might think that."

My cheeks burned hot. I was way into his brother, and we both knew it.

Emmett snorted. "Jesus Christ. You turned this into like...gay literature in the modern age. This is a bar, not a college classroom, ya bastard."

"I'd take the hell out of that class."

"So would Edward, obviously."

My eyes had already strayed across the room to where Edward and Bella leaned against the bar, waiting for our drinks. Jesus Christ, it was a nice view. To be fair, they both had nice asses. Edward's won, though. Those jeans did him worlds of good.

"Hey."

My head snapped over to Emmett. "Huh?"

Emmett grumbled. "If I could read your mind right now, how naked would my brother be?"

My cheeks burned. Emmett nodded. "Yeah, I thought so."

I rubbed my hands over my eyes. "Fuck." This wasn't a good idea. Social mishap waiting to happen, and I didn't have time to date. Remember, Jasper? Hello? McFly.

Fuck it.

"Emmett, I have a question for you."

"Are you about to ask if it would be weird if you date my brother?"

I made a face. "You're right. Forget it. This is breaking that bro code I keep hearing about, right?" None of my other friends had brothers like Edward.

"Fuck the bro code, bro," Emmett said with a snort. "Look, you don't need my permission to do anything. You're all grown up and so is he." Emmett shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. "I'm just saying, remember what I told you about him. It would really suck if I had to hate your guts on principle."

~0~

I went home alone that night, but with a date set up for a few days later. I liked him. A lot. I liked talking to him, but that didn't mean I wasn't worked up about the prospect of getting Edward in my bed as soon as possible.

As I changed, I remembered my book and the narrator whose voice was pure sex. Oh, yeah. Tonight was going to be a good night. I almost hopped into bed.

After a brief internal debate, I decided that I was the Scot and Edward was the Englishman. I rewound a bit, to the initial argument right before the Scot started manhandling the Englishman. I closed my eyes, imagined Edward glaring at me, and let Richard Carlyle narrate my pleasure.

~0~

A few months went by, and I found I had two great pleasures in my life.

First, and less important, was this narrator I'd found. Richard Carlyle. Jesus, he could read a book. After that first one, I tried a second. And a third. Eventually, it got to the point where I'd buy a book just because he narrated it; he was that good. Even when the writing wasn't great, his performance at least gave me a small amount of satisfaction.

His books were long, too. Almost everything he read gave me at least twelve hours of entertainment. I found a series read by him once. Thirty-five hours or more per book. Cripes.

The only problem with Richard Carlyle was the fact I couldn't listen to the love scenes at work. His voice was the best kind of porn—so visceral the words became images in my mind, touch on my own skin. Holy hell.

And that brought me to my second great pleasure in life.

I had a boyfriend.

It turned out a good boyfriend understood that I couldn't just give up my other responsibilities for him. I had a hectic life before Edward got there, and vice versa. We made it work. We ended up in each other's beds most nights, even if we were too exhausted to do anything but talk and snuggle a bit before we slept. He brought me lunch when he could, because his job was a little more flexible than mine. I got up early even on the weekends so I could do my homework and have long stretches of time with him.

And, of course, whenever I got all hot and bothered—by Richard Carlyle's sex voice or otherwise—I didn't have to take myself in hand. No. Edward was passionate and insatiable. Right after we got together, we spent a long weekend only leaving the bed to eat and do the necessary. And christen my table. And the couch. And the bathroom counter.

One such glorious evening, we were laying in bed, post-coital, when Edward said my name. The word came out breathless, because we were both still panting, and I didn't have the energy left to lift my arm from where it had fallen over my eyes.

"Hmm?" I responded. I was warm and boneless and so content I could have died happy right then.

I heard him swallow hard. "I want you to meet my parents."

My heart skipped a beat. I let my arm slide off my face. "Whoa," I muttered.

He rolled over onto his arm so I was looking up at his pretty face. "Just think about it, okay? They want to meet you, and they're good people."

I chuckled and reached up to cup his cheek. "I know they're good people. They have two really amazing sons." I took a deep breath. "And I don't have to think about it."

You don't? My inner voice asked.

"You don't?" Edward asked.

I shook my head at both of them, and cupped Edward behind the neck, bringing him down to kissable level. "Of course not. I'm serious about you, you know."

He kissed me. "That's good news."

"Although"—I kissed him again—"I can pretend to be reluctant if you're going to do that thing with your mouth again to convince me."

"Hey. It never hurts to hedge your bets."

I pulled him down on me and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him.

~0~

"Would you cut that out?"

Edward caught my hand before I could run my fingers through my hair again. He threaded our fingers together instead as we walked up the drive. He pulled us to a stop and pressed his thumb to my chin. He liked doing that. "They're going to love you." He got that soft look in his eyes. The one that made my knees weak for different reasons than when he looked at me like he wanted to eat me. "I love you."

I sighed as I kissed him. "But I'm a long-haired, tattooed freak."

He scoffed. "Who isn't these days? That isn't the stereotypical bad boy anymore." He tugged my hand, getting me moving again. "And they know I have impeccable taste."

"Impeccable." I repeated the word because it sounded good in my mouth. Then I started peppering kisses all over his face. "Peck. Peck. Peck. Peckable. Mmm. You have very peckable taste. And I love you too."

He laughed and smacked at my chest, and that, of course, was when the door came open.

"Son, I know I taught you better than to be an abusive ass."

A chill ran down my spine. It ran down my spine straight to my dick.

I looked up, disconcerted. A handsome blond man with Edward's eyes and a gentle, if smirking, smile stood in the doorway.

"But he was antagonizing me."

"Antagonizing. Is that what you kids are calling it these days?" He rapped on the small window next to the door. "Not for nothing, kiddo, but you didn't seem particularly antagonized."

Edward groaned, and I almost did, too. It was the teasing. The teasing was...familiar. Way too familiar. Like bantering. And my brain was getting all tangled up, because the kind of bantering I was used to listening to wasn't between a father and his son.

"See? He's already on your side," Edward said, turning to face me. He gave my hand a squeeze. "Dad, this is Jasper Whitlock. Jasper, this is my dad, Carlisle Cullen."

Another jolt of electricity ran down my spine as I mechanically reached out to shake Edward's father's hand. Up until that second, I'd been trying to convince myself I was out of my mind. Edward had told me his father's name before, but I'd never thought about it in conjunction with my Audiobooks. Why would I?

But now…

Now, I was almost a hundred percent sure that Richard Carlyle, the narrator whose perfect voice had brought me some of my best orgasms in the last six months, was none other than my boyfriend's father, Carlisle Cullen.

But was it really him?

What proof did I have, really? Just because his voice kept giving me déjà vu—major déjà vu—didn't mean I wasn't wrong. So Carlisle had a similar voice. He was a doctor, for chrissakes. He didn't read books for a living.

Maybe for fun?

Edward took me on a tour of the house. Nothing jumped out at me. The books on the bookshelves didn't include the titles Richard Carlyle read for me. Nothing screamed, "Hi, my name is Dr. Cullen, and I read sex so well, I can bring a man to orgasm by voice alone."

It was true. I didn't know that was possible, but I was imagining what he was saying was actually happening, and—

"Are you okay?" Edward asked.

God, no. I think your dad has brought me to orgasm. "Yeah. I'm fine."

His hand stroked up and down my back, sending delicious tingles up my spine. I shuddered and stepped away from him. He furrowed his brow.

"Sorry," I said. This was getting ridiculous. "I kind of feel hyper-sensitive right now." Because I keep thinking about your dad whispering dirty things in my ear, but that's another kettle of fish.

"Okay," Edward said slowly, giving me a strange look. No, wait. It was a look that indicated he thought I was being strange.

Which was true, but in my defense, I was also looking for clues about whether or not his dad read gay romance books—among other things—to me on a nearly daily basis. And whether he did or didn't, at the very least, I was obsessing over how hot his dad's voice was.

This was a mess. And it was going to drive me crazy.

Edward stepped closer to me. My body jerked. I swear, I had no idea if I was freaked out or turned on. My sweet, sexy boyfriend leaned in closer to me, his hands on my hips. "Do you want me to help you with that?"

Jesus Christ. His low, gravelly tone sent lightning through me. Fucking hell, I was worked up. I pressed my hand to the small of his back and pushed him up against me as I kissed him. I pushed him up against the wall, and he kissed me back, both of us already breathless.

Then, I pulled away from him with a gasp. I'd remembered I was this worked up because his dad's voice had sent me into a tailspin.

"Boys. Dinner's ready."

Speak of the devil. Although, to be fair, when Carlisle shouted up the stairs, he didn't sound at all like Richard Carlyle.

Edward chuckled and kissed me again. "After dinner, I'll show you my old room. It'll only take a minute." He took my hand and pulled me downstairs while I did my best to think about Donald Trump naked to calm myself down.

Actually that was overkill. But whatever; it worked.

All the way down stairs, I argued with myself about how crazy I was. Why did my mind automatically go to the sex anyway? It wasn't as though the books Richard Carlyle read were erotica books. Yeah, there were plenty of sexy times, but they had plots, too. Why couldn't I think about the times when Carlyle's voice made my heart speed as he narrated chases and fights and intrigue?

But noooo. My brain had to go straight for the deep, doggy-style dickin'. What was wrong with me?

I flashed a tight smile as we sat across from Carlisle and Esme, Edward's mother. She was a good-looking woman. Actually, this whole family was obnoxiously good-looking. Jesus Christ. No wonder Edward was so damn hot. Although, where had Emmett's brawn come from?

Esme, though, was a particularly bright presence. It was like her skin glowed as bright as her eyes and smile. She looked like… Well, she looked like a satisfied woman.

Christ, had I really thought that? These weren't images I needed in my head. Esme resting with her back against Carlisle's chest like I'd often imagined myself resting against Richard Carlyle's chest, head cocked as their hands did all the things their voices promised.

I reached for the glass of iced tea Edward set on the table in front of me and drank almost all of it at once. When I set it down, the family was staring at me. Carlisle looked amused.

"I guess you were thirsty," he said.

My face flushed, and not only because I was embarrassed. His words had brought back one of my favorite scenes. A story about two guys on a ranch. "You look thirsty," one of them had said, stepping toward the other, one measured step at a time. "But not for water. I think you're thirsty for me."

I shook my head hard, because now I was imagining Edward's father—fucking hell, did he have to be so damn handsome—saying those words to me here and now. I was scandalized and turned on and fucking…

Verklempt. That's what I was.

Edward gave me that look again, and then he tried to start a conversation. For some reason, he thought I was kind of a bad ass having gone back to school at twenty-four after being absent since I tested out at seventeen. I'd never understood why he was in such awe. He was twenty-four now and done with both his bachelor's and master's degrees. It would probably be at least another two years before I had my first degree.

"It's an admirable thing," Esme said. "You started working because you needed to survive, and it sounds like you have a good work ethic. It takes some guts to give up whatever free time you have to go to school. A lot of people have dreams, Jasper. Not a lot of people have what it takes to chase them."

Beside me, Edward squeezed my knee, and for a minute, I stopped thinking about his father's sex-line voice. A very short minute.

"You have to be really on the ball to manage school and work," Carlisle said.

And that was all it took. He said ball. Fuck me, I was worse than a twelve-year-old kid. It wasn't even like he said the word at all sexy. It was just that I'd spent a lot of time thinking about the way Richard Carlyle said ball. How the hell was that word not awkward as hell in his mouth?

Balls in his mouth. A tee hee.

"School, work, your own family and my son." Carlisle smiled at Edward. "I know he's a handful."

Oh, Christ, that was just awkward as hell. Please don't talk about a handful of your son. I put my fork down and rubbed my damp palms on my knees.

"I'd imagine it's hard to get a good rhythm going," Carlisle said.

I nearly choked. "A good what?" My voice was all raspy.

He furrowed his brow slightly—an echo of the face Edward made all the time when I was being a weirdo. "Your rhythm. Your stride. You know. It's hard when you have so many balls in the air."

Oh, for fuck's sake. Please stop talking about balls.

"Your family's needs must change all the time," Carlisle continued. "Especially with such young siblings. And school changes once a semester, with periods of intense stress around exam time, right?"

I nodded. My throat was a little too tight to speak comfortably.

Edward squeezed my knee again, and I jumped. "Then I came along to further complicate his life," he said. "But Jasper's got it. He even found a way to keep reading. He reads as much as you do, Dad."

Oh, shit. Mayday. Mayday. Mayday.

"How do you manage that?" Esme asked me. "My husband devours books."

"Jasper reads the same way Dad does," Edward answered for me. "Audiobooks."

I'd been looking down at the table, but I couldn't help but look up at Carlisle when Edward said that. My heart was beating so fast, it was ridiculous.

It was barely perceptible, but I thought I saw Carlisle's eyes tighten at the corners. He suddenly became very interested in his plate. "It's a good way to read when there isn't enough time in the day. I listen on my commute and when I'm doing some of the more mindless paperwork that doesn't require a lot of thinking." He paused a beat. "Any recommendations?"

I had no idea what the hell possessed me to do it. I couldn't take not knowing, I guess. "I don't know if you'd like it. I read a lot of contemporary gay fiction."

He sucked in a breath.

"Dad doesn't discriminate," Edward said. He laughed. "I think he read everything he could get his hands on when I came out in high school. It was a little funny, you know, because books can be so cliched."

We all chuckled. Carlisle a little nervously, I thought. Holy hell, it was him.

"The one I read most recently was pretty good. The Crossed Swords trilogy. Ever hear of it?"

Carlisle went pale, and I suddenly realized what I'd just done. He was Richard Carlyle, which meant I had gotten off to my boyfriend's dad's voice. It was like Edward's dad had lain with me in bed and whispered filthy fucking words in my ear, had made my blood run hot. His voice in my ear as I jerked and came.

Jesus. Fucking hell. Shit.

"I...I have to go to the restroom," I muttered, standing so fast the chair scraped across the floor with a loud and horrible scratch. I all but ran.

Straight into the laundry room. Shit. I'd gone the wrong way. I groaned and slumped against the wall because there was no way I could go out there. Nope. The only solution was to barricade myself in this room and starve to death.

No such luck. I'd only been in there a minute when the door opened. My head snapped up. It was Edward, and he didn't looked concerned for my mental health. He looked...hurt.

He came to stand in front of me and crossed his arms. "Is there…" He swallowed, and I couldn't read the look on his face at all. "Is there something going on between you and my dad?"

"No," I said sharply, but my face had gone red. I unfolded myself from my slumped position, and that was a mistake.

Edward's eyes went wide. He pointed at my crotch. "You're fucking hard. You're hard right now. You've been all antsy since my dad opened the door." He put his hands over his face. "Oh, my god."

Shit, I had to fix this. How was I going to fix this? "It's not what you think."

"I don't even know what I think," he said, his voice only a decibel below a shout. "I mean. Attracted is one thing." He grimaced, looking uncomfortable at the idea. "That is what it is, but you…" He gestured at my crotch again.

My problem was rapidly subsiding. Hurting Edward was the antithesis of sexy. "You don't understand," I said, desperate and helpless because I didn't think I understood either. "I can't help it. It's not him; it's his voice. I'm conditioned to respond to his voice."

"Conditioned? You just met him, for fuck's sake. What—"

A knock at the door interrupted us. I looked up and almost groaned. Carlisle stood in the doorway. His face was as red as mine felt. Great. Because this wasn't humiliating enough. Maybe Esme was on her way.

"Dad, can we maybe have a minute?" Edward said, his voice laced with anger. He wasn't looking at his father.

Carlisle cleared his throat. He didn't look at his son but at me. "You're embarrassed because you've listened to my books, aren't you?"

I flushed all over again. I wasn't embarrassed about listening. I was embarrassed about what his voice did to me, but I just nodded my head. No way I was admitting to that out loud.

"What book? What are you talking about, Dad?" Edward sounded like he was about to start shouting any minute.

Carlisle sighed. "Calm down, Edward. This is uncomfortable, but it isn't horrible, I think. Something we can laugh about when we're all done being mortified."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. It was a high pitched giggle, even.

"See?" Carlisle said.

Edward huffed. "I don't—"

"Just, both of you come sit down. I have something to tell you that I probably should have told you years ago." He took a deep breath. "You and your mother."

"What?" Edward sounded confused. I wanted to reach out and hold his hand, but I didn't know if I could. I didn't know why I felt so dirty—like I'd cheated on him. With his dad.

Gah.

Carlisle cleared his throat again. "Jasper, do you have Audible on your phone?"

Jesus, I was going to die of embarrassment. I'd thought that was just a phrase, but I was suddenly sure it was an actual phenomenon. But, I dug my phone out of my pocket, started up Audible, and handed it to him without a word.

He nodded. "Thank you. Why don't you boys go wait in the living room. I need to get your mother."

The rational part of my mind knew all of this was hysterical. There really was no other word for it. I hadn't done anything wrong. Neither had Carlisle. Meeting the parents was supposed to be something of a disaster, but when Edward had suggested the idea, I was thinking more along the lines of me spilling coffee all over the white couch or something like that. I definitely wasn't thinking I'd walk in the door and out Carlisle—respectable doctor, doting husband, and father of two grown boys—as a narrator of some of the hottest gay sex I'd ever listened to.

He even did those sexy gasps and groans. It was fucking pornographic.

Rationally, I knew Carlisle was right, and we'd all laugh about this later, but right now it was anything but funny. Edward left a cushion of space between us on the couch.

When Carlisle and Esme came in, they sat on the loveseat across from us. Carlisle pressed play on my phone. I held my breath.

I don't know what the hell I was expecting. For him to fast forward to the most filthy scene in the book? Of course he didn't. The opening chapter of the the first book in the series came on. No one was undressed. Chests heaved, but only because the prologue was in the middle of a battle scene. Swords—the metal kind—clashed.

Edward and Esme gasped.

"That's you," Esme said.

Carlisle stopped the recording and nodded. "It's a side job. I've been recording Audiobooks professionally for six years now."

"Why?" Esme asked, sounding breathless as she stared at her husband. It wasn't like she was aghast or anything. She just sounded surprised and hurt. Which, yeah, I could get behind that. Her husband had kept something from her for years.

"Wait," Edward said. He looked at me. "So, dad reads the books you listen to?"

"Not all of them." I rubbed my hands on my jeans again.

"But why did that make you…" Edward's eyes went wide, and he pointed at me. "Oh, no. He's not… He's not the guy you said… He's not the one who…"

"Edward," I said, because he was about to—

"The same guy you said you were going to spend the night with him in your bed when I couldn't come over a couple of weeks ago?" Edward blurted.

I covered my face with my hands and wondered if I could actually sink into the sofa.

"Mother of fucking hell," Edward muttered. "You get off to my dad's voice." He made a weird, choking kind of noise. "And you read porn," he said, I assumed, to his father.

"It's not porn," we said at the same time.

"But I don't understand," Esme said. She sounded so confused. "Why? You have a good job. Why would you do this? And why wouldn't you tell me?"

Now I really felt low. What the hell had I done? Sure, I was embarrassed, but I really had just outed him. This wasn't cool at all.

"Because when I started, you were sick, and the boys were in college, and I didn't want anyone to feel bad about the fact I couldn't afford any of it."

And...silence.

Whoa.

Edward had told me his mom had been really sick with cancer at some point. She'd recovered, so I hadn't even thought about it, but that had to be what Carlisle was talking about.

Carlisle swallowed hard. "The hospital I worked at eliminated the position I had at the time. They kept me on, but without the hours and at a different rate of insurance.

"It's like you said, Edward. I read a lot of gay fiction books, and I had stayed active in the industry news. Commentary, you know. Because a lot of those books were cliche and not true to your experience or well-written at all. I was reading an article about how audiobook companies were beginning to record gay literature, but a lot of their narrators wouldn't read it." He paused. "So I looked into it, and here we are."

"But your job is okay now," Edward said after a few moments.

"Yes. Everything is fine. I, well…" Carlisle sounded sheepish. "I really like doing it. A lot. And it doesn't take very long."

I couldn't help it. I cackled. I clapped my hand over my mouth, but it was too late. I held my breath, but that didn't help either. I started to laugh maniacally, and I couldn't fucking stop.

Beside me, Edward started to laugh, too. Then he couldn't stop. Soon we were both howling, clutching our stomachs.

"Well, aren't you two a finely matched pair of loons," Esme said. She sounded amused. Strained, but amused.

"This is ridiculous and horrible," Edward said between gasps. "My boyfriend listens to your porn, Dad."

"It's not porn," Carlisle protested again, sounding exasperated.

"Bah." Edward sniffled, getting control over himself. "He's told me about some of his favorites. He's heard you say things that would traumatize the hell out of me. Jesus Christ, I'm so glad you never got me to listen."

"Oh god, Edward. Shut. Up," I wheezed. He was making things so much worse. I had begged him to listen. I thought it would be like watching porn together and get us all worked up.

Edward stood up. "I think we have to go." He offered his hand to me. "Let's regroup when we can pretend none of this ever happened."

The relief I felt as I took Edward's hand and he pulled me up toward him was palpable. He wasn't mad; that much was obvious.

The atmosphere was still awkward as all hell, but lighter as Esme and Carlisle saw us out. Curiosity got the better of me as we got to the door.

"Why Richard?" I asked, finally daring to look Carlisle in the eyes.

He smiled. "It's my middle name."

"Hey, Dad," Edward said after he'd hugged both his parents and set one foot inside the car.

"Yes?"

"Please let me be there when you tell Emmett. I need to see his face when he finds out you do porn."

"It's not—" Carlisle huffed and put his hand on the car door. "Get in your car, Edward."

Edward cackled again, but he got in, and Carlisle closed the door behind him.

~0~

Edward drove us to my house, and he got out with me. That was a good sign. He called for a pizza. That was a better sign.

He didn't talk, and when I tried, he shushed me.

"Not yet," he said.

He held my hand and stroked his thumb over my knuckles, so I wasn't too worried.

We watched a movie. Then a TV show. Finally, Edward turned off the tv and pulled me to my bedroom. We sat down side by side.

"You fantasized to my dad's voice," he said.

"I fantasized about you."

"To my dad's voice."

I grimaced. So did Edward. "Ew," he said.

"Come on. This is like if you were to use Zac Efron as your go-to jack off material and then you found out he was your boyfriend's dad. Or brother I guess in this case. Whatever."

Edward shuddered. "First of all, ew. You aren't allowed to make any comparisons alluding to the fact you jack off to my dad."

"To his voice."

Edward groaned. "This is so disturbing." He sighed and crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. "Well, there's only one thing for it."

"Total brain wipe?"

"If only science had caught up with us." Edward got to his feet. My heart skipped a beat, but he just turned around and pushed me backward on the bed. Hands on his hips, he stood over me. "I'm going to have to read all those books for you and replace his voice in your fantasies."

I snorted and then I groaned. "Fuck, Edward. That would be so hot."

His cocky smile came out to play, and he straddled me. "Would you like that?"

"Would I like you to talk dirty to me? Gee, I don't know." I bucked my hips up, beginning to get our rub on. "What do you think?"

"I think I have a better idea." He began to move with me and leaned down to steal a few kisses.

"What's that?" I let my hands roam up his chest, under his shirt.

"I think we should write our own fantasies and act them out."

My cock twitched. "Jesus."

"I think you'd look delicious in a kilt."

"Oh god. Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up."

And I kissed him. Hard. And rolled over him. I made love to him, and it was the hottest thing—because sex with Edward was better than anything else.

No narration needed.

A/N: Many thanks!