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Author's Note: This is a 40K word story, divided into chapters for easier read. It was initially thought as a short story that grown into a bigger work, and it's a slow burn because that's how I enjoy writing at the moment. Your comments and opinions are welcomed.
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Chapter 1 - Personal Revelations
Marge was finishing getting her makeup ready when the front door was violently closed, the echo reverberating through the mirror of her bedroom and the lipstick overflowing her thick lips. A low rumbling voice like thunder, heavy footsteps like giants, and another door being thrown without consideration in the room next door, a bed squealing under the weight of her son.
She corrected her lipstick, checked if the makeup was as flawless as her tight black dress, and put a cardigan over her shoulders after cleaning her hands and putting away her set in the middle drawer of her cabinet. One last look at her curvaceous body, and for a second, she doubted that was a good look just to go out with her friends. Her heels were waiting for her at the doorway, but she made a detour to her son's bedroom.
"Adam, can I come in?"
"Go away mom!" His voice carried so much energy that sometimes she wondered if it was wrong to feel a sting of attraction. It was like watching a movie, where the lead is a handsome young male, with a firm jaw and arms that could carry you down the aisle.
She ignored his request and threw a hand to the doorknob, opening up a fringe. "Do you want to talk?"
He was laying down, hands on his head, looking straight up, his sweatshirt lifted just enough to show his sturdy set of abs. A tear had run down both sides of his face, leaving a shining trail in its absence.
"Feet off the bed, young man," she scolded him, using her best momma voice. He looked at her, suddenly mesmerized by his mother's appearance, and his mouth remained open. "You heard me."
Adam could only murmur a "yes" and removed his trainers in a slow, fluid movement, without taking his eyes from his mother. He noticed her bare neck, the fine gold necklace around it, her breast carefully held by a seamless bra, a black dress embracing her curves. He had noticed it before, the need to let his eyes wander a little bit more, to be closed to his mother, especially after dad leaving.
Plenty of times his mother came to his mind, but never so strong, never like this.
"Mom..." but that was all he said.
She was already bending down, picking up his laundry, tidying up his mess. "I swear to you, young man, I -"
"Mom, stop!" he asked her, a velvety voice, so smooth but with a sting of darkness. "You don't have to do that."
"I'm not seeing you doing anything, am I? You're almost twenty-one, Adam."
He sat up in the bed, staring at her. "Drop that, it's fine. I'll tidy this tomorrow, mom, I promise."
"Tomorrow will be another thing. Don't you have a game tomorrow?"
He nodded. She knew it was a big game. "Is that why you tore down the door?" Marge put down the used gym equipment, and a couple of socks and underwear on a chair, and came closer to her son, sitting down on the bed as he shimmy to the side.
"It's not that. It's nothing. Sorry if I used too much force."
It was easy to see his force. Even with the sweatshirt on, his muscles didn't go unnoticed. Large bulging biceps, a broad chest, and thick thighs. He grew up to be a heartbreaker, especially with his dad's eyes, dark pools of oceans that you could drown so easily. Marge grabbed her son's hand, and caressed it, as a mother would.
"What is it?" Red lips, sweet eyes, soft words. She never seen her son crying, not in many good years, but his eyes were red instead of white, and his face was carved with guilt and rage.
"It's nothing, mom, just... it's fucking nothing."
She put a finger between his dry lips, "language," and caressed his face, his buzz cut and five o'clock shadow, feeling the hard jaw and soft skin. "Sure, it must be something. Last month, how many times you came home, banged the door, and hide your face in these pillows? Your happiness, you can't seem to find it. Something shifted, and you're suffering, Adam."
"You wouldn't understand, mom."
A tear rolled out, and Marge thought why must men be so complicated when it comes to say what breaks their souls? He leaned forward, accepting the invitation of her open arms, repeating, "it's nothing," and nestled his sadness on her chest, while she caressed him.
"It's ok. Everything's going to be ok."
She ignored her phone, vibrating on her purse, and let Adam absorbed her motherly love. An urge to cry smothered her son's voice, but he resisted it. "Jenny broke up with me, mom."
A burning sting spread through her chest, and she held him closer. How dare she, hurting the most precious thing in the world? Adam wrapped his arms around her waist, his head laid heavy on her bosom, and she couldn't avoid feeling things she didn't want to.
"I'm sorry, honey," she said, caressing his big, muscular arms. Why was she feeling that tingling fire burning inside her, that indistinct murmur in the depths of her soul? She laid one kiss on his head and let him cry.
She told her friends she reconsidered and would stay home. Her son was more important than a night out, and any possible new boyfriend. He protested, encouraging her to go, but she said she wouldn't.
"Mom, it's the first time I see you going out since you and dad, you know."
"I'll make some popcorn and we'll watch a movie, just like the old times."
He nodded. Somehow, Adam was happy that he told his mom what was going on in his heart, although the story was more complex from what it appear at surface level.
She went to change into more easy-to-use clothes around the house - a white t-shirt, black leggings, and she tied her hair up, and got to the living room where Adam was setting up the movies, and she had to stare at his strong back, and perfectly shaped ass. Those jeans were a blessing in disguise, she thought to herself.
"Ah, you changed clothes," he said, a sadness in his voice.
"Can't watch the movie in that dress," she laughed, knowing perfectly well her cheeks were giving away her mood.
Adam tried a smile, but the events from that night were still laying heavy in his heart. He went through the list of movies on the streaming service and picked an interesting thriller he thought his mom would like to see. The smell from the popcorns took him to the kitchen, and he leaned over her shoulder.
"I missed this so much."
She giggled, enjoying his presence. "You grew up so fast," she said, looking at him. "When did you become this big?"
He smiled at her, the first genuine smile in a while, "it's all you, mom. From your love."
"Don't be silly. It's all those steroids they give you in training."
Adam was used to his mom making jokes about that, and she knew he was a hard worker. It wasn't steroids, but dedication. He looked at her, and where once was a cleavage worth remembering, now there was a neck, naked, that he wanted to touch. He didn't know why, but the feeling was the same.
"Come, let's watch the movie," she said, taking one bowl of popcorn and grabbing his hand to the living room. It was like it set an electric current between the two, and Adam didn't want to let go.
The movie was fast-paced. A few scenes were more violent, and that took Marge to shield in Adam's protective arms, but it was when a love scene came along that they both went silent.
It was a scene that went on for a little too long. "Damn, they can't get enough, can they?" Marge jokingly said, her leg against her son's strong thigh.
Adam was silent. His throat had difficulty swallowing, and having his mother so close was a double-edge sword.
