Page 20 of Don’t Call Me Son

He disappears back into the kitchen and returns a minute later with his own loaded plate. He drops into the armchair, winking at me as he settles in. I smile, small, but real, glad everyone is fed, and finally dig in.

…

We finish eating a little while later, plates mostly cleared. I’m rubbing my stomach, pleasantly full, when Mom suddenly lets out a massive, rumbling burp.

The whole room goes dead silent. Colt and I both turn to stare at her with wide eyes. After a beat, Colt bursts out laughing; loud and genuine. I can’t help but grin too, trying not to laugh too hard.

Colt stands and picks up her plate with a smirk. “Glad you enjoyed it, love.”

Mom goes bright red and slaps both hands over her mouth, mortified. “Oh my God…”

I laugh softly and nudge her with my elbow. “You all good there, Mom?”

She shakes her head, then uncovers her mouth and lets out a tiny, embarrassed laugh. “It just came out!”

“It’s no big deal, Mom,” I say, still grinning.

She stands up, cheeks still flushed. “Alright, well… I’m gonna go hide in the shower now.”

I stand with my tray and smile at her. “Thanks for watching TV with me.”

She smiles warmly and boops my nose like she used to when I was little. “We’ll make it a Saturday morning thing from now on.”

I nod. “I’d like that.”

She jogs up the stairs, and I head into the kitchen, putting my plate in the sink before tucking the tray back into the cupboard where we keep them.

Colt’s leaning against the opposite counter, watching me. “I’m glad you ate it all,” he says quietly.

I shrug, a little shy. “It was really nice. I’m extremely full now though.”

I turn to the sink and run the tap, starting to rinse my plate before reaching for the soap and brush. The sound of the shower running upstairs and Mom’s light, off-key singing drifts down faintly.

Colt comes up behind me. His big body presses close, one hand sliding around my waist while the other braces on the counter beside me. His breath is warm against the side of my neck as he leans in and murmurs low. “Extremely full, huh? That’s a shame… because I was really looking forward to filling you up later.” I nearly drop the plate.

I try to focus, scrubbing at the leftover egg yolk with the sponge, but it’s impossible with Colt pressed up behind me like this. His body is warm and solid against my back. One of his hands stays planted on the counter beside me, caging me in, while the other slides slowly around my waist, fingers slipping under the edge of my robe to rest against my bare stomach.

“Careful,” he murmurs right against my ear, teasing. “You’re gonna get water everywhere if you keep shaking like that.”

The second his fingers start tracing lazy circles just above the waistband of my boxers, my hands definitely fumble. I keep scrubbing, cheeks burning, trying to sound normal. “Colt… my mom’s right upstairs.”

“I know,” he says, clearly amused. He presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below my ear. “She’s singing. We’ve got time.”

His hand drifts lower, palm flat against my lower belly, pulling me back against him more firmly. I can feel how hard he is through his clothes, pressing against my ass.

I rinse the plate quickly and set it in the drying rack, reaching for the next one with shaky hands. Colt’s fingers dip just under the waistband of my boxers, teasing the sensitive skin there without going any further.

“Fuck,” I whisper under my breath, gripping the edge of the sink.

Colt chuckles darkly against my neck. “Language, baby. What would your mom think?”

I elbow him lightly, but there’s no real force behind it. He just laughs again and nips at my earlobe, hips rolling once against me in a slow, filthy grind.

I’m half-hard already and we’ve barely done anything. I try to focus on washing the damn fork in my hand, but Colt’s free hand slides up my chest, thumb brushing over one of my nipples through the robe.

“You’re so sensitive this morning,” he murmurs, sounding way too pleased with himself. “I wonder what else I could get away with before she gets out of the shower…”

He tugs the back of my robe up with one smooth motion, bunching the fabric around my waist. Cool air hits my skin as he pushes my boxers down ever so slightly. I freeze, sponge still in my hand, water running.