Changing Lanes Bonus Content
Two midterms down, two more to go.
Jacob should’ve been happy. The first had been a take-home, and the exam today was the worst one over with. No more trying to make sense of dead poets and their green-fairy ramblings. Smooth sailing in sensible computer code from here on out. But when your birthday fell smack dab in the middle of exam week, every fucking year, it was hard to get excited. A junior now, on his third go of fall midterms, he should be used to it, but it still sucked donkey balls. So did missing his nightly call with his boyfriend because he’d fallen asleep face first in his study notes.
He trudged out of Calhoun Hall, squinted against the bright Texas sun, and checked his phone again. Still no texts from Bas. Not even a Happy Birthday message or the usual sleepyhead picture Bas sent to him every day around this time, mid-morning for Bas out in LA. Soft blue eyes, messy blond dreads, tattooed arms, and stained fingertips, if Bas had been working on a new tattoo design the night before. Those pictures were some of Jacob’s favorites.
Pictures were getting old, though. He loved them, loved their FaceTime and Skype chats, but he loved actually being with his boyfriend more. After spending every day together this past summer, training for and competing in the summer Olympics, the separation this fall had been harder than Jacob imagined. Bas was his first serious relationship, his first love, the first person who ever truly got him, and for that person to be half a country away… Well, it sucked worse than that exam just now. He already had his plane ticket for LA for New Year’s Eve, when the entire squad was flying out so Bas could ink their team tattoos, but after two months apart, two more months seemed like a lifetime away.
Jacob shot off a quick text as he strolled to the swim center. I deserve a green-fairy T-shirt after the plank I just walked. The caption still hadn’t switched from Delivered to Read by the time he pushed open the TSC doors and inhaled chlorinated air. He heard a commotion in the main pool area—probably his teammates blowing off steam, like he intended to do. He needed to distract himself from the niggle of worry that was starting to grow in the back of his mind.
Had he been too moody on calls lately, the exam stress getting to him? Bas was six years older than him; he probably didn’t want to hear Jacob whine about college and exams. Or hear his pirate quips. Had he been too clingy? Expecting that morning call and others throughout the day. Had he jumped on the NYE plane ticket too fast? Had Bas met someone else?
On his way to the locker room, he passed the orange and blue wall of Longhorn swimming legends, including the picture of him, Bas, Alex and Dane on the top of the Olympic podium, gold medals around their neck from their medley relay win. The daily sight usually made him smile, made him feel proud, like a valued member of this special found family. Not like the crooked-tooth dork who regularly got tangled up in his own clothing. But today, worries swirling, the picture made his stomach sink. Would it ever be that good again?
Water. He needed to get in the water. That would make him feel better. It always did.
Except that one time it didn’t.
Buck up, Burrows! he coached himself.
He was twenty, as of today; time to stop acting like a kid. Bas’s world did not revolve around him; Jacob knew that going in. Bas had a life before Jacob, swimming at his local club, weekly dinners with his mother, and running his tattoo parlor. Maybe he had an early client this morning. Maybe a late night. Either way, Jacob would deal with it—after he swam.
He changed out in the locker room, tried, failed and tried again to get all his shit stuffed in a locker, eventually winning thanks to the added muscle he’d put on this summer, then showered off before heading out on deck. One look and he understood the ruckus he’d heard from the lobby. Most of the UT swim team was present, and they were gathered around one end of the pool, cheering as two swimmers raced down the center lanes.
He recognized Ainsley, their fly specialist, in the lane closest to him.
The other swimmer was a good three lengths ahead of Ains. Massive chest surging out of the water, tattooed arms wheeling, as he charged through the pool like a pro.
Like a pro?
And was that swim cap way more full of hair than on most guys?
Jacob couldn’t stop the smile splitting his face in two. No more than he could stop himself from almost tripping over his own two feet as he shoved through the crowd to the block at the end of the visiting swimmer’s lane.
The swimmer’s face lifted out of the water, blue eyes bright, smile big, and Jacob pounded the block with his hand, ignoring the crunch of goggles under his palm. He was too busy grinning, too busy matching his breath to his boyfriend’s, too busy screaming for Bas to reach the wall faster.
To get to him.
Bas’s fingers rammed the wall, just slightly off his world and Olympic record pace, and holy shits and applause echoed around the pool. But Jacob only had eyes and ears for Sebastian Stewart, in all his dripping wet, swim-star glory. Bas ripped off his cap and the dreadlocks Jacob loved so much fell loose over his broad, tattooed shoulders.
“Happy birthday, Pup.”
Jacob launched himself into the water, and into Bas’s arms. The crowd went wild. But at least they couldn’t see his raging hard-on. And at least Bas’s lips were back where they belonged—on his.
Bas held the hotel room door open for Jacob and tried not to jump him the second it closed behind them. It’d been a struggle not to fuck him right there on the pool deck this afternoon, or in the locker room showers after, or in the bathroom of the Tex-Mex place the team had taken them for Jacob’s surprise birthday celebration.
Jacob had barely left his side the entire afternoon, all that beauty within reach again, all those muscles that had continued to gain strength and definition, all those dirty blond curls that had grown back on his boyfriend’s head. Bas desperately wanted to touch every inch of him, wanted to run his fingers through the tangled hair, and wanted to see those mint green eyes darken and widen with lust and pleasure. Except decency dictated Bas not rip Jacob’s clothes off in public. Thank the deity they weren’t in public any longer. But there were still other considerations.
“The Presidential Suite?” Jacob asked, making a three-sixty rotation in the middle of the room.
“A quiet place for you to study.” Bas gestured at the desk, then to the dining table and kitchenette. “And I can make sure you eat and take care of yourself the rest of the week.” Those sorts of details had a tendency to escape Jacob when he was stressed, over himself or someone else. And he always tended to put other’s needs ahead of his own. Not this week; Bas would see to that. It was the least he could do for his boyfriend’s birthday. He tossed Jacob’s bags on the floor, closed the distance between them, and pulled Jacob into his arms, nuzzling the crook of his neck. “Want to take care of you.”
Jacob arched his neck, granting him better access. “I have some ideas.”
Bas licked a path up his throat and slid a hand the opposite direction, down his front and over his erection. Fingers splayed, Bas traced the bulge behind Jacob’s zipper, down to the tip and back up, squeezing him lightly. Teasing. “I bet you do, matey.”
Jacob’s laugh came out half-strangled. “How about a repeat of that night in Madrid, after we won the gold?” He thrust into Bas’s hand, growing harder still, and Bas’s cock did the same as he remembered that glorious night. Bas had kept his promise. Jacob hadn’t been able to walk much at all those last few days in Spain, which had been fine by them, cuddled up in the nest they’d made out of of Bas’s single room.
Bas had plans for the same this week, here in this hotel room, and an even bigger reward at the end of it for Jacob. “When your exams are over and you don’t have to sit at an uncomfortable desk for hours…” He grabbed hold of a firm, round ass cheek and hauled Jacob up against him. “I promise to fuck you even harder.”
“Ungh,” Jacob keened.
Bas laughed at his favorite sound in the world, up close and personal, not on a tablet screen or through his earphones for the first time in months. He wanted to hear more of it. Bas shuffled them toward the bed. “When’s your last exam?”
The backs of Jacob’s legs hit the mattress, but Bas held him upright, slipping a hand under his T-shirt. Bas pushed the fabric up, fingers dragging along smooth, heated skin. “Two days from now.” He pinched a nipple.
“Ungh.” There it was.
He finished ridding Jacob of the T-shirt, then unbuttoned his fly. “We got all night and tomorrow before we get there.”
Jacob wove his fingers through Bas’s dreads, pulling his ear to his lips. “Now.”
“Uh-uh-uh.” Hand diving into Jacob’s underwear, he combed his fingertips through the wiry hair around the root of his cock. “You have to earn it.”
“How about we make a deal? You pass your exam tomorrow, you get to stick your cock down my throat.” He shoved Jacob’s pants and underwear down, said cock bouncing free against Jacob’s stomach, at full attention. Bas almost gave in then, the beauty of an erect and near-wrecked Jacob driving him crazy.
Seizing on Bas’s wavering resolve, Jacob yanked Bas’s shirt off over his head and pushed down his track pants. Commando had been the right decision, judging by Jacob’s smirk. “Passed my exam today,” he said, confident, not an ounce of shame or embarrassment, and with a touch of demand that revved Bas up even more.
“Oh, you want something for that?” Bas growled, pushing Jacob back onto the bed.
“Earned it,” Jacob replied with a crooked tooth leer that was both sexy and adorable.
Bas wrapped an arm around his waist and hauled them up the bed. He settled on an elbow, half on top of Jacob, skin to skin, as he wove his fingers through Jacob’s messy curls. “Thought you just wanted a green fairy shirt?”
Jacob shoved his head into the touch, purring. “That too.”
With his other hand, Bas reached across Jacob, under the other pillows, and pulled out the birthday present he’d hidden there earlier. “How about a Dread Pirate Roberts one instead?”
Jacob blinked, the haze of lust fading. “You got me a—”
Bas shook out the T-shirt for Jacob to see. Black with a skull and cross-swords and the words I am the real Dread Pirate Roberts. “For my favorite pirate,” he said softly. The one he’d foolishly held himself back from for weeks, pining and drawing countless sketches of Jacob—asleep, swimming, just being his usual adorkable self. Bas had tucked them away in a digital folder titled DPR, for the wannabe pirate who’d stolen his heart. “Happy birthday, Pup.”
Jacob surged up, slamming their mouths together in the not-safe-for-public-consumption kiss they’d both been craving. Tongues, teeth, lips, the both of them fighting to get a taste of the other, starved for it after the months apart. Their bodies caught on fast too, rocking into rhythm, cocks bumping against one another, desperate for the friction.
“You’re really going to make me wait?” Jacob mumbled against his lips.
“Not for all of it.” Bas tossed the shirt aside, well clear of the mess they were about to make, and shifted fully on top of Jacob. He ran a hand over the rounded tips of both their cocks, gathering moisture, then took both their dicks in hand, slick fist pumping them together.
Jacob threw back his head and groaned, hands fisting in the sheets, body arched and writhing under Bas. Totally open and at Bas’s mercy. Bas kissed every inch of skin he could reach while he continued to rock and thrust, fist shuttling up and down their lengths. It didn’t take Jacob but another minute, his legs falling wide on either side of Bas as his cock shot warm, sticky come between them. Bas couldn’t wait any longer either, following Jacob over the edge.
He collapsed onto the bed beside Jacob, face in his shoulder, arm slung over his chest, the both of them heaving to catch their breaths. It was several long, contented, perfectly-sated minutes before Jacob stretched the opposite direction, reaching for something. He came back with the shirt in his hand, holding it up and admiring it with smiling green eyes. “Thank you for this.” He gestured at the room, too. “And for this.”
Bas kissed his shoulder, then his lips, stealing another taste, as his clean hand dove into Jacob’s curls again, twisting the dark blond ringlets around his fingers. No buzz cuts, ever again. “Let me take care of you this week. Make it a little easier for you.”
“Then a little harder.” Jacob gave him an exaggerated wink and a “har-har-har.”
Bas laughed, happy and endlessly amused, back in his boyfriend’s arms again, where he belonged. “Aye, matey. A lot harder.”
Copyright 2019. Layla Reyne.