Boyfriend Swapping—Couples Style
Authors Note: These characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer; I'm only experimenting with the art form.
Do you like boy-on-boy love? (I do!) If not, or if you are too young to understand the term slash, leave now. Eighteen and over only, please—don't make me ask you twice. Go, now.
Staying? You have been warned: slashy lemon ahead.
Chapter 3. To Be Lost In the Forest (EPOV)
From Chapter 2:
"And you shouldn't be eating the lasagna," I mutter under my breath as I prepare to follow him to the hotel room.
There are a few moments of silence between us, and I'm ready to confess my concerns when Edward stops and turns to me, remorseful.
"Jasper, it was me. I love you, always. Didn't you guess?"
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Carefully checking me over for any evidence to corroborate my statement, and evidently finding none, Jasper hesitates before answering.
"Sure about that?"
My mouth twists into a wry grimace, eyes downcast as I try to work out what he's saying to me.
"I love you, Jasper; I just do. We've been together almost three years now. I'd do almost anything..." I stop myself before I say more. Now is not the moment to reveal I know he's dangerously close to leaving me. Bored-out-of-his-freaking-mind close, but I'm going to fix it...somehow.
However, we both know Edward-the-physician sucks a mighty wind in the romance department. All the years burying myself in demanding, advanced placement science and math classes, plus years of weekends spent indoors cramming for exams enabled me to graduate college two years early. Add in the countless hours attributable to the demands of my profession, and my chosen field of medicine did not a sexy Edward make. In truth, I'm a 'meat-and-potatoes' dull-ish sort of fucker. And without printed reading materials to consult for step-by-step directions, I'm often in way over my head in matters of the heart.
So it was just my luck to fall hard for Jasper, a southern gentleman in every sense. My boyfriend never forgets a birthday, anniversary, or Valentine's day. He's always at the ready with the right card, the perfectly-wrapped gift, the affectionate greeting. Honestly, I can't fathom why he's stayed with me for as long as he has.
"I love you, too, Ed, but…did that go as you intended?" His voice trails off, a slight frown marring his normally contented expression. As Jasper listens intently to my garbled explanations, I'm compulsively fisting my hair, pulling it into shapes better suited for modern sculpture than the top of my head. It doesn't help much, cause now I'm swearing on my grave to never engage in garage seductions, blindfolds, or anything like what just transpired, ever again. My neatly sheared bronze locks, easily my best feature, are reduced to a lump of knots before I finally earn a grudging nod of acceptance from my partner.
"I admit you tearing my pants off and attacking me with your tongue was exciting at first, when I had it figured as you. Something went wrong somewhere along the way, that's all. Let's just mark it down as a bungled attempt. Now, I'd like to get out of this garage sometime today. Where exactly are we, Ed?"
Equanimity restored, he finally turns away from me, a faint smile playing about his perfect, pale lips. I could kiss his ass in gratitude, but I want out of the garage as well, so guess I'll follow-up on that thought later.
Crisis averted, I realize I have been crushing the restaurant's take-out bags under my arm since exiting the Volvo. I shift the sacks around, stretching out my arm when my palm unexpectedly skims the damp patch on my back pocket. Oh yeah. That wet blotch is my own fault. Hotel housekeeping carts, stocked full of free toiletries, are going to be the death of me one day, I think. I'll either end up in prison for grand larceny or crushed under one after it topples over, its delicate balance thrown off-kilter by my filching of too many packets of mini-soaps as I scoot past the massive hall-hazards.
I therefore do my best to avoid the metal beasts, conscious of the fact that I don't need to pilfer the carts anymore. It sometimes helps my resolve to remember that I am an M.D. now.
However, the excitement of today's unscripted events may have caused me to snap. How else to explain how several packets of scented, wet clean-up towels found their way into my back pants pocket?
I admit the theft had seemed undeniably justified at the time: we were Hotel guests, after all. Plus, I was planning on using the wipes to freshen my car seats, or maybe scrub down the side of the Volvo. It was no rationalization at all that I expected my waiting, blindfolded partner would shortly be experiencing the orgasm of his life. And Jasper's aim tended to be unpredictable when I could make that happen for him. I was confident I'd make good use of my freebies.
Unfortunately, much like a certain part of me, during the natural course of events the flimsy packages had been crushed into a too-small space. Maybe I should have foreseen, again just like me, that the packets would end-up leaking their fluid into the heavy cotton material I was wearing. But I didn't. Now I bet my ass smelled alluringly of lemon dishwashing soap.
Way to go, Edward; so much for teasing Jasper into a sexual frenzy while I'm reeking of Dawn, or Dove, or some such shit. But at the back of my mind is the kernel of knowledge that he hadn't desired anyone else but me.
I file away that fact for later examination.
"Jigsaw, wait up, I need to grab our bag." I turn back to the car and handily retrieve the emergency bag that, being Edward, I always keep packed and ready in the cargo for overnights. I confess to being partial to clean underwear, no matter how dire the circumstances.
I stuff the paper lunch sacks inside the bag and sling it over my shoulder, straightening to find Jasper giving me a cautionary look.
"What's that for, boy scout? Is one of us going camping?"
I hesitate, certain now his tone indicates that in fact Jasper hasn't entirely forgiven me for the blindfold and possibly other things.
But considering where I've booked us in, and how I intend to care for my lover later, I'm confident he'll eventually relent.
Instead of answering, I grandly sweep my arm outward. "Look where we are, baby." And we step outside into the overcast day to find the elevator to our room a few feet away. The Inn at Playa Del Rey is billed as world-class accommodations three blocks from the beach. Handing over my credit card earlier, the hotel's desk clerk had assured me our room faced into the 600 acres of the Ballona Wetlands, a lush bird sanctuary. Maybe we'll explore the trails, or more likely, we'll first spend the afternoon inside, occasionally noticing the grounds as backdrop in the floor-to-ceiling windows from the unit's oversized bed.
I know Jasper has wanted to stay here; we've driven by the entrance more than once on our way to LAX and wondered what it would be like to be guests.
An excited boyfriend now shoots me a wild look, and then blurts "The Inn? Really?" I look appropriately humble as I dip my head in acknowledgment.
"Yeah, okay, Ed, this is awesome, you perfect bunwich. But just don't try that other shit on me again without advance warning," before giving a small yip and flinging his arms around me. I try for a kiss, and am rewarded with the feel of his lips pressed firmly against my own as he jiggles slightly in anticipation.
His lithe form is molded to mine now. I urgently slide my fingers up his sides to grasp tightly onto his shoulders, squeezing him hard as he stills in my arms, his complete attention now focused on me.
"Can you take the afternoon off, J? Let's spend the rest of the day having hot, pounding make-up sex," I breathe into his ear and begin suggestively brushing my hips against his, a dance with no music required.
"Sergei already agreed to cover for me; I didn't even need to ask," he says with a smirk. "And Edward, that's one promise you better keep." Pulling back, he shoots me a mischievous look. "So, can we visit the room right now? We'll investigate the grounds… later."
I nod, only too happy to agree. We step into the elevator, and briefly engage in some heated grappling, my porn-generated hot-elevator-sex imagery literally springing to life. He's pushing me hard against the cab's side wall, and I'm groaning in anticipation, even knowing the ride to the top floor will be brief.
His callused hands roam possessively over the front of the bulge visibie beneath the business slacks I donned this morning for work, and slide under the waistband, teasing the tip of my cock. Fuck yes; I'm back to being hard and eager for him, humming as his cool palm wraps around the slick skin in a wanton massage. It makes me ache for him again, as I get a strong visual of filling my mouth with his nuts, fingering my way to his tight entrance, pressing the stop button on the panel just on the other side of his hip …
The doors open quietly, and Jasper reluctantly breaks away from me. We eye each other, our intentions unmistakable before he takes my hand, impatiently herding us down the hall. With only 21 rooms in this hotel, the feeling is intimate and luxurious.
I hand over the key card; he carefully fits it into the electronic lock and showing uncharacteristic restraint, beckons me to enter first.
It's a promising start. But I'm too firmly planted in reality to expect our sex life to be the beneficiary of a modern-day miracle. No visitations from the Virgin today.
In fact, since Sunday morning when I'd scanned the LA WEEKLY personals online, I've been fighting the nagging urge to send Carlisle and Garrett an email about a double-date. Holding me back is their profile's expressly stated 'friends and maybe more' expectations—admittedly, that phrase leaves a lot to the imagination. And, I'm still not 100% sure if Jasper and I would be mentally prepared to have group sex with them. Ever. Today's events seems to demonstrate exactly the opposite to be true.
And if we did meet them, I can only hope we'd have the option of saying 'no' if it turns out they have small dicks, or suffer from poor hygiene, or something equally unpleasant. Not that I am shallow, of course; I prefer to think of it as having 'standards.'
But now, since we have this one-day respite ahead of us to explore each other's secret desires, maybe it will be enough to alleviate some of Jazz's professed boredom for another week or two. Giving me time to work up a 'Plan B' should Carl and Gar (as I've come to think of them) do the unthinkable and turn down my invitation.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jasper make his way slowly over to the windows. He freezes and whistles in appreciation.
"Edward, did you know what we were getting into here?" So close to the ocean, the wetlands are covered in a light mist, the greens muted, the few visible gravel and weathered boardwalk paths sinking in-and-out of view as the mist swirls in tandem with the ocean breezes.
"Yes, baby. Why don't you enjoy it for a few minutes? I'll use the microwave to re-heat our food and then grab a quick shower." I pull out the slightly crushed sacks and set them on our room's dining table, then hold out my arms in mute appeal.
No hesitation from my boyfriend. He bounds from across the room, and I'm kissing him once again, igniting the passion as I sink into the stimulus of his taste and his untamed male scent, when he pulls back.
"Why were you wearing cologne in the garage earlier?"
Before I can explain it wasn't cologne, he continues, "And just so you know, that was a very hot game we played together, Ed. Now that I know it was you licking me, not some chance passerby, I'm eager to try a few other things this afternoon."
Jasper's improved mood is infectious, and I cheekily respond to his earlier question with one of my own. "So you thought my ass smelled good, eh? A heady blend of citrus and Edward, possibly?"
His own unique scent was maybe the second thing I noticed about my boyfriend when we first got together.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Interlude:
My first date with Jasper was an informal meet-up at an open-air cafe for coffee. Typically, I was running behind even then, and the Energizer bunny was agitated, bouncing around the sidewalk when I eventually walked up to the entrance, an apologetic grin masking my anxiety.
"'lo, Edward. Late much?" His inquiry wasn't exactly friendly, and his arm barely twitched as if he'd planned to shake hands, but changed his mind. I'd actually forgotten just how snotty he could be. Frankly, if I hadn't seen him naked in my office, and been jacking-off every morning to that very-same image now made flesh and tantalizingly within reach, I might have scowled, turned around, and left.
But to be this near to my goal? Leaving wasn't an option. Maybe he was just nervous, too.
I ignored the aborted handshake, instead leaning in to buss cheeks with Jasper, seeking physical contact after a week bereft of his intoxicating presence. Today he was dressed for the beach in worn cut-offs, sneakers, and a red sleeveless Tee, looking all of about nineteen. Being so close to him, I was beginning to feel a little woozy again.
I took my time with my response as I assessed what physical delights awaited with the man before me if I could shake off my moodiness and behave at lunch. My former patient, now elevated to potential boyfriend status, sported the perfect physique lifted directly from the cover of Men's Health. In the natural outdoor light, I was better able to appreciate his soft, wavy, sun-streaked locks tucked behind his ears, and mesmerizing eyes a color I'd only seen in photographs of successful movie actors. Chris Pine came to mind, for one. All-in-all, the package was good enough to swallow down in a single gulp. I hoped I got the chance.
"Sorry, my bad, Jasper; is it too tedious to simply plead traffic?" I did regret being late and allowed my chagrin to bleed through.
He recognized my question as rhetorical and let it slide, instead asking, "Thirsty?" He was observing me closely, and I began to feel that familiar warmth spreading low in my belly. If we didn't move soon, I was possibly in danger of passing out from lust-induced lack of blood to the brain. In my current dazed state, just getting an obvious boner would be considered a reprieve.
"Yeah," I managed to reply in a disinterested tone of voice. "Let's go inside and order. My treat, of course."
"I called you," he began to protest.
"Saved me the trouble; therefore, let me say 'thanks'…" I finished lamely as I moved closer to Jasper again, briefly resting my palm against the small of his back to encourage him to go first. I was having a little trouble breathing now as well. Hmm. Ever since I'd first read about the condition as a teen, I'd been vigilant about checking for symptoms of a heart attack. However, my chest didn't actually hurt, so I took a few deep breaths, mentally willed my racing pulse to slow, and re-assured myself it wasn't the 'big one.'
But there was a specific ache in the vicinity of my heart. I cataloged the symptom as a deep, overall prickling sensation—my chest seemed to be expanding just from standing so near him. Freely inhaling his unique scent for the first time, the panicky feelings returned in a rush. They seemed to be triggered by the realization that I would soon be seated across from him exchanging information as I tried to swallow whatever tasteless gruel this over-priced cafe served as heart-healthy.
Not well-versed in first-date etiquette, and astonished by the unusual sensations, I unthinkingly blurted, filter-forgotten or simply damaged, "Jasper, that's amazing; do you feel it, too?" I was staring at my feet, breathing rapidly, so perhaps that explained his next reaction.
"What? Are we having an earthquake, Edward?" Jasper asked, now looking excitedly at his own feet for some signs of sidewalk shaking or gaping earth trenches.
Fuck! I was flustered; what-the-hell had I said? And how to recover?
"Err, I guess I was mistaken. Not quite a quake after all. False alarm." I gave him a sheepish smile.
There was a rather longish pause before he replied.
"Sorry, but as a young physician and a scientist of sorts, wouldn't it be polite to observe professional courtesy and abandon the field of earthquake prognostication to the experts?" His voice ended on a higher note than strictly necessary; he looked slightly flushed and seemed concerned about something I couldn't identify. I had an idea it might be more than my lack of quake-divination skills.
"Possibly I was wrong..." I grudingly acquisced. But what precisely did he mean by 'a scientist of sorts?' Had he called my medical credentials into question? I'd done my time in the labs. Perhaps referring him to Dr. Volturi had been a mistake, leading him to doubt my abilities. I could tell I'd have to step up my game with this one, and quickly. I tried again, seeking a more neutral topic.
"Umm, how long have you lived in California, Jasper? No one could miss that accent of yours." I hoped that was a more conventional opening. I thought I might really, really like this arrogant boy as well as wanting to rip the clothes from his beautiful body and rake my tongue over every delicious inch of him.
Giving me a look that let me know he knew I'd changed the subject, Jasper none-the-less proceeded to answer the question in a normal, non-threatening way. Oh, that reminded me of something else.
"So, you teach martial arts to the young boys, eh?" Now, was it just my imagination, or did that sound like I was possibly hinting at something unnatural going on?
Fortunately, he again took no notice of my awkward phrasing, and calmly responded with a few extra details embedded in what had to be a complete paragraph. I thought he said tae kwan do, but there were a lot of foreign words; I didn't want to risk appearing ignorant about the subject.
Unfortunately, none of the details he'd offered seemed to stick in my overtaxed brain.
Searching for a new topic, I soon took stock of our surroundings as we waited in line. "Ah, so what are you ordering? Anything I'd like?"
That seemed safe, neutral even.
"Aren't we here for coffee?" Jasper was seeking confirmation of our earlier plans, and no doubt wondering if I was next going to plead insanity and beg off the rest of our 'date.' The idea held some appeal at the moment, given the stuttering small talk, but I wasn't giving up. I'd seen him semi-hard in my office, and I wanted more.
My fingers twitched as my hand involuntarily shot to my hair; a nervous habit I was trying to overcome. It played hell on me when I met my college friends for poker.
"I was thinking, since I asked you here, that we could have a late lunch, or an early dinner, or something. If you wanted…" I left it a question. Knowing my usual luck with potential boyfriends, Jasper would slurp down his coffee in ten minutes, and I'd never see him again.
How to drag out this meet-up?
Unexpectedly, Jasper came to my aid. "Hey, I'm nervous, and when I'm that way, I forget to eat. I'll have the tuna mango salad, since you're buying." He grinned. I took his show of appetite as a good omen, and felt my shoulders begin to descend from beneath my ears to a more natural location as my anxiety lessened.
When we'd placed our orders and retreated to a small table that faced the door, after a few minutes I was ready to move past the usual pleasantries.
"I was very happy you called me, Jasper. I've been thinking about you for the last week." Since you came to my office, dropped your pants, and flashed your cock.
Looking more than casually pleased, Jasper put his hand on the table between us, palm up, and smiled sweetly. "It's working out so far, I'd say."
Wondering if I should respond to his hand signal, I tentatively moved my own hand into position, but left a narrow strip of space should I have misinterpreted his action.
"So, do you enjoy your work, Ed?" Spoken softly as he slipped his hand into mine, eyes focused on my face to gauge my reaction.
Surely he could see how pleasurable this sensation of the two of us holding hands was to me?
I squeezed his in reassurance, and felt the corners of my mouth crinkle into a crooked smile no amount of childhood dental work had been able to fix. I liked a forward-acting future boyfriend.
The remaining time at the Café was spent getting to know one another, with me gamely choking down the healthy fare, which wasn't too tasteless. In contrast, I noticed Jasper seemed to like his salad. I sincerely hoped we wouldn't have foodie-type issues if we ended up together.
When we rose to leave an hour or so later, I also hoped Jasper wasn't ready for our lunch date to be over. "I left my car just down the block; want to take a drive to the beach? I can bring you back here later to retrieve your car." I offered.
"I don't own a car, Edward. Just use my street bike for getting around this area. I keep my Harley garaged unless I'm taking a trip along the coast. Further destinations, I fly or take the train."
"If you need a ride back to your place later, I'm not doing anything." Anticipating he would say 'yes,' I'd taken my keys out of my pocket, already mentally cataloging the roads we'd be navigating in busy late-afternoon traffic.
"Sure. I was headed to the beach later today." He gestured to his clothes. "I'll catch a ride with you."
His calm acceptance of my offer was disconcerting; I wasn't exactly offering free taxi service.
Maybe he caught sight of my confusion, because he smiled at me. "If I don't make it back home tonight, it wouldn't be a tragedy."
And with that unexpected confession, he acted on the sexual tension that had flashed between us all afternoon. A few steps and he was within easy reach; my upper body turning at the same time so I was facing him. We looked into each others' eyes for a split second, and then we were mashed against one another, simultaneously opening mouths, mingling tongues, and unabashedly tasting each other on the sidewalk outside the Café. Holding onto each other tightly, as if letting go would risk the permanent loss of the other half of one's self, it was both heated and sweaty. So good. I was oblivious to all but him, reveling in his equally desperate need for me signaled by his urgent actions.
The unleashed physicality of his response echoed my own, and one or both of us was whimpering at the unexpected inferno wreaking havoc between our intimately fused hips. His cock was stabbing against my hipbone; it was impossible not to want to rub myself hard against him. I was in that mindless state of want when to think about 'it' was to do 'it.' I shifted, and then had the relief of absolutely blissful full contact. Cock against cock. Each of us undeniably rock hard.
I was too old to come in my pants on the sidewalk, but it was a near thing.
Some rather loud coughing from behind me finally broke into my physical communion with the blond god in my embrace. We both pulled back minutely, faces red with desire and embarrassment, eyes opened once more as we darted shy glances at our audience.
But our public make-out session on the sidewalk had accomplished one thing; we were permanently free of the possibility of any more misunderstandings.
I wanted him, and he wanted me. No question.
Firmly anchored with arms around one another's waists as we split and reformed into two individuals again, I didn't let go of him as I turned us towards my car.
"Shall we pass on the beach for now?" I murmured my desires into his ear, secure in the knowledge that both my apartment and my sheets were neat, fresh, and presentable.
It was not a question needing an answer, but a reaffirmation that we both needed each other.
I got a scorching 'yes', and a suggestion or two about things he'd like to try with me instead of swimming.
I'd never fucked a guy I'd just met, but this didn't feel like a one-time thing. Not at all.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
At Jasper's confused reaction, I give in, explaining, "No cologne, babe, just some leaky wet towelettes I'd stuffed in my back pocket. How could you mistake that cheap scent for cologne?"
"Smelled nice to me; you know your sense of smell is much more sensitive than mine. And further evidence I should be the top, Ed, not you."
"Misguided thinking; I've told you before having highly-developed olfactory nerves does not make me an obvious choice for a bottom. And I'm a doctor, I should know."
"Yeah, a doctor who runs around with knots in his hair, looking like a six-year-old. Did you bring a brush so I can detangle it before you shower? It's worse when it's wet; at least that's one thing we both agree on."
I dig in the overnight bag, finding the brush and hand it over as I obediently move to sit in the center of the room's couch. I pat the cushion next to me, but Jasper perversely monkey-climbs over the back of the furniture so he's positioned directly behind me to work on my hair. He slides a leg on either side of my shoulders, and then groans, seeing exactly what awaits him.
"Edward Mmm-ordecai Cullen, this is one of your worst messes ever," he intones in a solemn voice.
There's a pause, which some might call hopeful, if that were possible. But of course, that's a literary convention, not real life.
"Nope, sorry, Jasper Hale Whitlock, you aren't even close with that Mordecai guess. It's awful and lacking in any originality; even my middle name is not as bad as that. What other names have you tried this month?"
Jasper suddenly seems consumed by his de-tangling assignment, so I help him out by reminding him of a few of his recent guesses. "I often have perfect recall, you know. So, in order, we've previously eliminated Meecham, Meese, and Meershaum. Slow, but that's the nature of progress, I guess. When you eliminate all the possibilities, whatever's left, no matter how improbable—Ouch! That fucking hurt—was that on purpose?" I try shoving him backward off the couch onto the carpet, intent on pining him underneath me.
But there's no dislodging Jasper when he doesn't want to be pushed around. "Please stop poorly paraphrasing Sir Arthur if you want a hair left on your head, Edward," he states succinctly and with no hint of a smile in his voice.
I have a long, troubled history of regretfully failing to take heed of Jasper's casual threats; so I pause and carefully consider his words. The health of my hair is something I take quite seriously. I immediately quiet down.
"Are we playing softball with Emmett and Riley this weekend?" His fingers gently weave through my hair, loosening the knots as he poses this difficult, maddening question.
Jasper, master of all competitive sports, or so it seems to me, is fucking rabid about the overwhelming, endless opportunities for joining softball teams in WEHO. Sometimes I find myself wishing he was a tad more effeminate in his preferences, but I've become an expert at accepting the hand I was dealt on such matters.
"You can. I'm scheduled to see patients on Saturday; it's my day at the Clinic. Did you forget I was working?"
"No, I remembered the rotation. So, any objections if I go?"
"Naw, just don't kiss anyone I don't know."
I never deny him much, beyond confirmation of my full middle name. It's irritating enough being named 'Edward,' a constant reminder of a long-dead Victorian-era Queen's consort, without also being saddled with a second equally-preposterous family name. So teasing Jasper with the guessing game? It's just our bit. After three years, it's one of those things that anchors us as a couple. Someday I'll write it down for him, we'll share a laugh, and then we'll find a new game with which to torment one another.
Jasper's fingers and gentle brush strokes eventually cease moving, his arms slipping down to settle comfortably over my chest. He noisily nuzzles the top of my head before asking, "Time for your shower?"
Feeling completely relaxed for the first time all week, I agree and suggest he join me.
"But first I want to get some ice," I clarify, standing to retrieve the plastic bucket from the room's wet bar.
A few minutes later, his expression is priceless as he watches me carry the now full container I'd just assembled into the spacious, slightly decadent bathroom.
I stop just inside the door, and reaching back around the door's frame, motion with my hand for him to follow me.
"Get your tight little athletic ass in here, boyfriend," I order, as I hear him scramble to get off the couch. "There's something I want to try."
A/N: Yikes! I revised this about fifteen times. Hope it was worth it. JPOV's is next.
Music: Bloc Party's This Modern Love (www (dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=-oRlpGyI1rg)
