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Feeling truly settled is an interesting concept.
It’s something most of us strive for, and a lot of times, we’ll think we have it, only to find out later it wasn’t all there. We had only a portion of it all along.
I’d always considered myself content. On the surface, I was happy. Thriving business, nice house, smart kid… A relationship.
But just under my skin was a want for something more; a need I never allowed myself to acknowledge… Until I found it.
Until it revealed itself, like a magician’s final trick. Camouflaged… it had been hidden inside me the whole time.
With my eyes closed, I can still smell him, all around me. His scent has taken over my bed, but now it’s more than just his masculine vanilla sweetness making my mouth water. It’s the smell of us, together. Sex swims around me, invading my senses. Not just any sex, either…
Gay sex. What on earth is this, and how have I never known how mesmerizing it could be until now?
I know Jesse’s not in the bed. He spent all last night nestled up against me, all soft skin and silky hair, curves of taut muscle, and warm breaths brushing my chest.
We both fell asleep shortly after we came, making no attempt to clean up our mess or clothe ourselves. No breaking the spell by slipping back into reality.
This dreamland is much more satisfying.
I woke up a few times in the night to make sure he was still here. And I couldn’t help myself… My hands traveling all over him, petting him sensually, treasuring him.
I still know it’s wrong. I’m not a total psycho. I’m fully aware that we crossed a detrimental line, and there’s no hopping back over it. But I can’t deny that I’m settled now…
The inner itch is gone. And it’s as wonderful as it is baffling.
Was this what I needed all along?
To sleep with my adoptive son??
Pulling my pillow over my head, I groan beneath it. The things I said to him last night… Lost in the heat of the moment. I called myself Daddy…
Jesus Christ, I really am sick.
I’m balancing on a tight rope, between my self-loathing over my actions, and an odd acceptance of them. Part of me just wants to give in to it.
The other part knows this won’t end well.
Maybe if I knew where Jesse stood, it would help me determine my next move. Last night, he told me he doesn’t want anyone else…
Was he just saying that because he was turned on and wanted to fuck? Or God forbid… because I’d made him feel like that was what I wanted?
As fucked up as this all is, I couldn’t live with myself knowing I’d coerced him into something so twisted. If I groomed him in any type of way, I’ll chop my own balls off and let myself bleed out.
Rolling out of bed, I pull my sweatpants on and head downstairs. Fuck showering for right now.
I need to see him. I need to get a read on him, and make sure he’s okay.
I half expect to find him cowering in a corner somewhere, hugging his knees to his chest and rocking like the victim of an assault.
But that’s not what’s happening.
When I turn the corner to the kitchen, I’m hit with multiple surprising sensations. Christmas music playing on a speaker across the room. The smell of even more baked goods, which isn’t out of the ordinary in this house. But still, I hadn’t expected it at six in the morning.
And then there’s him.
My kid, whom I’m now appraising as gorgeous and sexy, standing by the counter, mixing something in a bowl. He’s wearing the apron I got him, and some fitted yellow boxer briefs with bananas on them.
That’s it.
