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Okay… There was that one time I accidentally stumbled upon a video. And it may have captivated my attention for more minutes than I’d ever admit out loud before I ultimately clicked back onto something more along the lines of my typical repertoire.
But that hardly makes me interested in guys. It was just a very brief, sort of fascinating accident. Which is a great way of describing what happened with Jesse, too.
I’m amazed at how intense it was… The head, and the kiss. Both illustrious in their own ways, rocking me down to my core. I can’t stop thinking about it.
My mind is twirling and whirling like a cyclone, my body itching in some need I can’t for the life of me figure out, when I hear a noise.
Footsteps, out in the hall.
My heart immediately lodges in my throat when I recognize the familiar shuffling. It sounds like Jesse sleepwalking.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I listen to him fumbling outside my bedroom door, which is unlocked and open a crack, as usual. Because despite how much I know I should be putting distance between us, I can’t shut him out. I’m incapable of doing so.
So he didn’t go to Tanner’s house…?
Or maybe he did and came back. Maybe they hooked up, and Jesse came home, like I’m sure he’s done before, which I never would have noticed before tonight.
I scoff to myself in the dark. What kind of name is Tanner anyway? He sounds like a douche.
What the fuck is this icky, suffocating nausea creeping up my esophagus like bile? And since when do I feel this while thinking about my adoptive son dating some asshole with a stupid name?
My bedroom door pushes open, and he staggers inside. I refuse to open my eyes, but I can hear him as he stumbles up to my bed and crashes down onto it, as he does.
He nestles up into the mattress, breathing softly by my side. My muscles are bunched up tight while I lie still, subtly cracking my eyes open. His back is to me, but I’m immediately on edge at what he’s wearing… Or what he isn’t.
He’s in only boxer briefs. The ones he wears, like mine, fitted and hugging the slim curves of his hips. Except that where mine are usually plain black or gray, his are bright green and decorated with candy canes.
Swallowing becomes difficult as I stare at his back and shoulders, the lines of pale skin glowing in the dimmed light. He’s curled up into a ball, and even though the room is barely lit, I can see goosebumps sheeting his flesh.
Without thinking, I lift the comforter I’m under and drape it over him, covering his body and shielding him from the cold. But now we’re only inches apart, and I can feel his closeness; smell his scent, like sweet baked goods and the Dove for Men soap he uses.
My mouth is watering, and it’s so fucking confusing I feel sick. He’s my kid… Not some toy delivered to me as a secret, torrid little Christmas gift.
Confusing… This is so confusing.
Why am I thinking about how his soft skin would feel beneath my fingers? Why am I remembering how it stole every ounce of breath from my body when I pressed my erection into his earlier?
Why why why…
Why do I reach out and touch him… just a little. Just the slope of his plump bicep… down the line of his long arm and onto his waist.
Inching closer, I rest my head on the pillow behind his, inhaling the scent of his silky hair. He always smells like vanilla frosting.
But I’ve never wanted a taste before today.
This is so wrong. So so fucking wrong…
My chest brushes his back, and my nipples harden beneath my t-shirt. I have an overwhelming urge to rip it off and feel more… flesh to flesh.
I’m unleashed… I’ve fallen off the goddamn deep end as my fingers graze his hip, the dip right before an ass so firm and round, there’s no way it belongs to a guy, let alone my…
No. I’m not even gonna think it.
But I know it. Regardless of whether I want to admit it, I know who he is to me. Yet my dick is filling rapidly, stiffening in my sweatpants and begging to get a little closer. A deep breath would urge it up to the crack of his ass beneath those boxers.
I shiver, disgusted with myself. But I can’t stop.
I can’t move away, like I know I should. My fingers slide down onto a slim yet muscular thigh, dusted in light hair. My balls draw up tight at the feel of a man… His shape so obviously not female in this moment, it should turn me off, not more on.
