In response to a prompt on tumblr. I hope you all enjoy it! :)
"This is lovely."
She chuckled, she couldn't help herself as she snuggled deeper into his chest, inhaling the mingled scents of sex, sweat, and the Old Spice body wash she now associated with him.
"Its heaven," she agreed, stretching against him like a lazy cat, prompting him to lower his face down to hers and claim her mouth in a searing kiss. She hummed into his mouth, enjoying every leisurely sensation down to her tingling tailbone. "It's been too long since we've been able to take our time."
His fingers traced a linear pattern up and down her arm, giving her goosebumps she had no desire to rub away.
"I think we've now mastered the art of the quickie," he mused, laughing himself at the playful expression she tossed his way in response.
"Something all parents have to learn," she noted, shifting until she was practically lying on top of him, her breasts flush with his chest, her nose within nudging distance of his chin. "Along with how to have an orgasm without making a sound."
"You still haven't mastered that one," he goaded, and she pushed herself up on her elbows, staring down at him incredulously. "What?" he returned. "You make noises all the time."
"I do not," she argued, giving his chest a light swat.
"You do, too," he insisted, scooting up on his pillow just a bit.
"What kind of noises?" she asked.
"Little squeaks," he answered, unable to stop the smile that erupted from the look of horror on her face. "Moans, sighs. I especially like it when you curse in my ear."
Her mouth was opened, but her rebuttal stopped before it could get out.
"I know I swear," she admitted, her eyes quickly warning him away from an I told you so expression. "But I have never squeaked in my life."
"Yes you do," he stated. "Especially when kiss you right on your…"
The rest of his sentence was cut off by a pillow to the face.
"Hey!" he protested, pulling the pillow from her grasp and tossing it off the bed. "What was that for?"
"For making me sound like a mouse," she tossed back, squealing in earnest as he pinned her quickly, kissing a breathless laugh into silence as her arms snaked around his neck. Her foot inched its way up the back of his leg as one hand moved downward, cupping his ass playfully before giving it a sound pinch. He made a noise and pushed himself up, noting the look of triumph on her face.
"I think that qualifies as a squeak," she mused, looking all too pleased with herself.
"That's cheating," he contested, narrowing his eyes just before he pounced. She screamed as he tried to tickle her, thrashing around when he finally managed to maneuver his fingers into her armpits. He was relentless in spite of her bucking, bringing tears to her eyes from laughing so hard.
"Stop!" she cried, finally managing to place her feet in a position that allowed her to thrust him up and off of her body. He laughed, but then her feet were on his back, pushing and pressing him to the edge of the mattress, savoring the look on his face just before she managed to kick him to the floor.
"Ouch," he muttered as she tried to peer over the side of the bed. "I think I bruised a cheek."
She snickered, she couldn't help it, but then he rose like a phoenix from the ashes, brandishing the same pillow she'd pummeled him with earlier, making her squeal and dive under the comforter for protection.
"As if that will save you," he said, whapping her with the pillow a few times through the soft material before tossing it back to the headboard. "I think I'll go get a drink. You've worn me out, woman."
She popped out from the blankets, her hair pointing in at least fifty different directions at once.
"Like that?" she questioned, eyeing his naked body from head to toe.
"Why not?" he shrugged. "The girls will be at Roland's party for at least another hour, and God only knows how long Sam and mother will be with his apartment search. Did you see the itinerary she printed out this morning?"
She rolled her eyes and nodded.
"It was rather extensive."
"Precisely," Matthew agreed. "So what's to stop me from roaming around in my birthday suit for once?"
Thunder rumbled in the distance, catching her attention as she looked over her shoulder towards the bedroom window. She rolled out of bed and peaked through the closed blinds, hopping back under the comforter in search of warmth.
"It's going to storm," Mary stated. "That might cut apartment hunting short."
"Not that short," he uttered, throwing the bedroom door open and sauntering out into the hallway. She heard his footsteps followed by the sounds of him pilfering around in the kitchen, and she fell back on to her pillow, snuggling under the sheets as she enjoyed the feeling of being well-sexed and thoroughly satisfied.
She loved having him here with her like this.
Then she heard something that was out of place—a car door slamming shut, maybe, voices moving towards her house from the outside. Shit—the laugh, that was Sam's laugh, no question, and she sat straight up in bed, clutching the comforter to her chest as she heard the sound of the front door opening accented by scurrying feet pounding their way back to her bedroom.
Matthew slammed the door shut behind him, twisting the lock for good measure before turning to face her, his face drained of color, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. A burst of laughter tore out of her chest as she watched him press his fingers to his lips in desperation, his ear pressed to the door as if he were listening for something.
"Did they see you?" she whispered. His brow contorted into a pained expression, and he shrugged helplessly, making her laugh all the harder. She buried her face into the pillow to muffle the sound, waving him off when he shushed her.
"They know we're here," Mary stated. "Both of our cars are in the driveway, for God's sake."
She stood then and grabbed up her discarded clothes, tugging them on before motioning for him to do the same. He grudgingly pulled up his jeans and tucked in his t-shirt, tossing her an award worthy pout as she placed a soft kiss on his lips.
"I'll wait two minutes before following you out," he suggested.
"Why?" she asked. "Matthew, your mother knows that we're having sex. So does Sam. We're engaged, if you remember."
He waved her off before placing his hands on her shoulders.
"She has her suspicions, I'm sure," he reasoned. "But thinking it and seeing her only child stroll out of a bedroom with his fiancé…"
She tossed him a pointed brow and walked out of the room before he could finish his thought.
He heard her greeting both Sam and his mother, the conversation easy, her discomfort not showing at all, if she felt any discomfort, that is. He wished he could be as calm as Mary, but his cheeks were burning on both ends, and all he wanted to do was crawl back under the covers and lock the door until his mother and Sam left.
How in God's name was he supposed to face his mother when she'd more than likely seen him streaking through Mary's house just moments ago? He felt like a rejected auditionee for The Full Monte.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself, sucking in air through his nostrils and steadying himself. One last tug to his t-shirt, one last check of his hair which was beyond repair at this point if he were being honest. But he stood up straight and clasped the door handle firmly in his hand, turning it with purpose before making himself take the first step out into the small hallway between her bedroom and the open living room area.
There they were—the three of them—Mary and Isobel on the couch, Sam in the oversized chair, laughing and chatting as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary. As if he hadn't been grunting and grinding just minutes ago against the woman now tossing him a quizzical look, the taste of her climax still in his mouth. He cleared his throat and greeted Sam, self-consciously shaking the man's hand before moving to the loveseat on the opposite side of the room. He couldn't bring himself to look at his mother.
And Mary knew it. Shit.
"I'm sorry your afternoon got cut short," she stated, tossing him a sly expression that made his mouth go dry.
"It was still productive," Sam returned. "I think we found a place both of us find satisfactory."
Wait—both of them? What had Sam meant by that remark?
"A first floor, two bedroom apartment at The Ridings," Isobel continued without missing a beat. "It has a lovely patio that looks out on a lake. There's a swimming pool, a golf course nearby, and a Jacuzzi tub in the master bath. I've always wanted one of those."
"You've what?" he stuttered, shaking his head at the turn in conversation just as a blast of thunder rocked the house. Three sets of eyes stared back at him wordlessly, clearly taken aback by his small outburst. "I mean," he stammered. "You've never mentioned wanting a Jacuzzi before."
"You never asked," Isobel quipped with a small shrug. Her eyes then narrowed, the edges of her mouth twitching in an upward direction. "And frankly, there are some things a mother and son shouldn't necessarily discuss. Wouldn't you agree, Matthew?"
Sam tried to muffle a snort laugh, as did Mary, although she was failing miserably, and he felt every one of her giggles right in his gut. His ears were burning—no, that wasn't right—his entire face was on fire, and he stared down at his hands, clearing his throat once again as he sought his voice.
"Yes, mother," he murmured, wondering if everyone in the room could hear the blood rushing to his head as loudly as he could. His tongue moved independently of thought for a moment, and he tried unsuccessfully to swallow, the texture of his mouth feeling oddly like paste. "I couldn't agree more."