[Angela's POV]
I wake with the first light of dawn streaming through the living room blinds, my body curled protectively around Gabriel's sleeping form. A delicious warmth radiates from where our bodies touch, his back pressed against my chest, my arm draped possessively across his waist. The blanket I pulled over us soti in the night pulled around us tightly.
Last night feels like a dream, a beautiful, perfect dream I've waited years to experience. My body hums with satisfaction, Gabriel's essence still lingering on my tongue, in my belly, fueling with a primal energy I've never felt in my entire life. Who knew tequila would transform my hesitant, conflicted boy into the demanding, passionate man who gripped my hair and used my mouth with such delicious abandon?
I carefully shift to study his sleeping face. Long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, occasional soft snores escaping. I can't help but smile, rembering how those sa lips ford desperate pleas, how his voice broke when he begged to fuck my mouth.
Nine thrusts. My boy is improving so beautifully.
After he collapsed into unconsciousness, I couldn't resist tasting him again. He didn't even stir as I took him into my mouth once more, his body responding instinctively to my touch. When he ca that second ti, filling my mouth with his seed, I felt an overwhelming urge to preserve the mont.
My phone still sits on the coffee table where I left it after taking that perfect picture, Gabriel unconscious, his pants around his ankles, while I knelt between his legs, mouth open wide, displaying his precious gift on my tongue. A dangerous nto, perhaps, but one I'll keep locked away where only I can see it.
After that, I buckled his pants back up. This has to stay a secret for now. Judging by his current state of mind lately, if I push now, it'll likely only make him run further away from .
I need Sabrina to ruin him so I can build him back up.
I'm not counting this as breaking my promise. He took far more advantage of his drunk mother than the other way around this ti.
I press a gentle kiss to his temple, inhaling the alluring scent of his skin, tequila, and sex. He won't rember much of last night, he drank far too much for that, but I'll never forget it. I will always rember how he looked at with unfiltered desire, how he finally stopped fighting what we both know is inevitable.
My fingers trace the curve of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beginning to form there. My beautiful boy becoming a man in my arms. Just as it should be.
"Mine," I whisper so softly it's barely a breath against his skin.
I tighten my arm around Gabriel's waist, pulling him even closer against . His warmth is intoxicating, and I have absolutely no intention of disturbing this perfect mont.
I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. There's sothing so pure about him in sleep, all his defenses down, all his conflicted feelings montarily forgotten. This is how it should always be between us. No resistance, no guilt, just this perfect union of bodies and souls.
My fingers ghost over his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. I can feel his heartbeat through his thin t-shirt, strong and rhythmic. I wonder what he's dreaming about. Is he dreaming of ? Of last night? The thought sends a delicious shiver through .
"Mmm," he mumbles in his sleep, shifting slightly in my embrace.
I freeze, not wanting to wake him yet, but he rely settles back against . I press my lips gently against the nape of his neck, a feather-light kiss that wouldn't disturb even the lightest sleeper.
The blanket has slipped down slightly, exposing his shoulder. I pull it back up, tucking it carefully around us.
Gabriel stirs again, his body tensing slightly before relaxing into my embrace. His breathing changes rhythm, becoming deeper, more ragged.
"Mom," he moans out, the word escaping his lips in a husky whisper that sends electricity racing down my spine.
I smile, pressing my lips against his ear. My beautiful boy is dreaming of .
"This ti, I'm gonna last..." he mutters, his voice trailing off as he shifts again, his hips moving subtly against .
My heart races at his sleep-laden confession. Even unconscious, he's thinking about our intimate monts, about improving for . Such a good, eager boy, always wanting to please his mother.
I slide my hand up to stroke his hair, careful not to wake him from whatever delicious dream he's having. His face is flushed, lips parted, eyelids fluttering with rapid movent beneath. I wonder what position we're making love in within his dream.
"Yes, you will," I whisper back, though I know he can't hear . "We'll practice until you can last as long as you want."
—
[Gabe's POV]
Sunlight filters through my eyelids, pulling reluctantly from a dream where Mom and I were... doing things I shouldn't admit to wanting. My head throbs with each heartbeat, mouth dry as sandpaper, telltale signs of a hangover. I groan softly, shifting against sothing warm and soft.
Mom.
My eyes snap open to find us tangled together on the couch, a blanket pulled over us. For a terrifying second, I frantically take inventory of my body. Relief floods through when I realize I'm fully clothed, jeans, belt, t-shirt, everything intact. We're just... cuddling.
Her eyes flutter open, blue irises catching the morning light as her lips curve into a gentle smile.
"Good morning, sweetheart," she murmurs, voice raspy with sleep.
Fragnts of last night flash through my mind, drinking tequila, talking, laughing. Nothing sexual. Nothing inappropriate. Just us reconnecting as mother and son.
"You kept your promise," I whisper, throat scratchy and voice rough. The relief in my tone is palpable even to my own ears.
Mom's eyebrows rise slightly, a question in her eyes.
"I'm sorry I treated you like a nympho," I continue, rubbing my temples to ease the throbbing. "You said you wouldn't take advantage of while I was drunk, and you didn't. We just... talked."
Surprise flickers in her eyes briefly before settling into a smile. She reaches up to brush hair from my forehead.
"Of course, I kept my promise, Gabriel. I would never betray your trust."
The sincerity in her voice makes my chest ache. This is the mom I rember, the one who bandaged my skinned knees and defended from playground bullies.
"How much do you rember from last night?" she asks, her fingers still playing with my hair.
I wrack my brain, trying to pierce through the alcohol-induced fog. "We talked about... my job? And Sabrina, I think." I wince as a particularly sharp pain lances through my skull. "Honestly, it's pretty hazy after the third drink."
Mom sits up slowly, adjusting her nightgown, which has sohow remained perfectly modest. "You were quite the chatterbox once the tequila hit you. Very affectionate, too."
Heat creeps up my neck. "Did I say anything embarrassing?"
"Nothing you need to worry about," she assures , patting my cheek. "Just that you love ."
I let out a relieved breath.
She stands, stretching like a cat in the morning light. The silk of her nightgown catches the sun, turning montarily translucent before she moves out of the direct beam.
"I'll make coffee and breakfast," she offers. "Sothing greasy for that hangover."
As she pads toward the kitchen, I slump back against the couch, grateful for this mont of normalcy. Maybe we can find our way back to sothing healthy. Maybe last night was the first step.
"Hey, Mom?" I call after her.
She pauses, looking back over her shoulder. "Yes, Gabriel?"
"Thank you. For being my mom last night. Not... you know."
Her smile falters for just a split second before returning, brighter than before. "Always, baby. Whenever you need to be."
I close my eyes, listening to her move around the kitchen, the familiar sounds of ho washing over . The coffee grinder whirs, pans clatter, the refrigerator door opens and closes. For the first ti in days, I feel safe at ho. Protected.
But as I drift in this comfortable haze, sothing nags at the edges of my consciousness. A fleeting image, Mom's face, looking up at , her mouth... I shake my head, dispelling the thought. Just residue from my dream, nothing more.
"Aspirin?" Mom appears beside , holding out two white tablets and a glass of water.
"God, yes." I take them gratefully, swallowing them in one gulp.
The kitchen fills with the mouthwatering aroma of frying bacon, and I force myself to stand despite my pounding head. I shuffle to the kitchen table, collapsing into a chair as Mom tends to the stove.
"You look deep in thought," she observes, flipping the bacon with practiced ease. Her white hair is pulled back in a ssy bun, a few strands escaping to fra her face.
I watch her move around the kitchen, sothing warm and comfortable settling in my chest. Despite everything that's happened between us, this mont feels right. Safe.
"I'm just... happy," I admit, surprising myself with the truth of it.
Mom glances over her shoulder, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I'm glad, sweetheart."
"I still can't believe I don't rember parts of the night," I say, rubbing my temples. "Was I that far gone?"
She laughs, the sound light and musical as she slides eggs onto a plate. "You were quite insistent on glass four and five of tequila. Poured them yourself."
"God, I'm so sorry," I groan, embarrassnt washing over . "I hope I didn't get you too drunk as well."
Mom turns fully toward , placing a loaded plate of eggs and bacon in front of . Her blue eyes sparkle with sothing I can't quite read as she leans down, her lips brushing my forehead in a kiss that feels purely maternal.
"Not at all," she murmurs, her voice warm with affection. "I had the ti of my life."
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