|A Son’s Devotion – A Fantasy Mother/Son Incest.In a land of elves and magic, there are still lines not meant to be crossed.
When Glin fucks his adoptive mother atop her vanity, it starts a chain reaction of shame, bartering, and meeting one another half way. But even if she won’t have sex with him again, how long will her hand jobs and blow jobs sustain him?
And if she can only get off while thinking of him, even when she’s being gangbanged by three college students, how can she keep resisting?
Warning: Contains a taboo relationship between a son and his mother, fellatio, cunninglingus, a gang bang, a woman blackmailing a male employee, dubious consent, and bondage in a fantasy setting. A dark romance novella of 30k words.
He’s a troubled young man.
That’s what they said about him, but Angelique had refused to listen. Now it was hard not to see it.
Slumped into a reclined position upon the sofa, her gorgeous son looked deflated. His pale blonde hair, short but creeping down over his forehead and ears, was usually so vibrant and lovely. Now it sat limply, and with his shirt open, it revealed his slender chest to look pale, instead of his usual, glowing self.
Years ago Glin had begun to express an unnatural interest in her, his own adoptive mother. She ignored it for as long as she could, rebuffed him thereafter and chided him on his inappropriateness. But they had always been close, the only people the other really had in the world, and it was impossible to let him go entirely.
Angelique’s son was her best friend, but she couldn’t allow him what he wanted, so she kept her distance.
He didn’t like it, not at all, but she convinced herself he’d accept it and grow out of it eventually. She pushed him to finally move out on his own, which led to his great decline. Without her looking after him, he went to pieces. His burgeoning career as a sorcerer faltered, his employment contract cancelled, then the next fell through. He had taken to drinking, and now she found out worse.
Her poor boy was self-destructing on her, she realized. She could no longer hide from it as she looked at him upon her sofa. That gorgeous face of his that any woman would fall madly in love with was contorted in his restless sleep.
Glin had been kicked out of his apartment days ago, but she never knew until one of his ‘friends’, if she could call them that–dealers would be more apt–dropped him off at her doorstep unceremoniously.
A healer by trade, she could tend to his physical ailments, but there was nothing she could do for his psychic wounds, or the potential of addiction. If he was bent upon hurting himself, he would do it. She’d stuck by him for two nights now after he was dumped back on her doorstep, tending to her handsome boy and waiting, anxious and terrified.
When his beautiful, emerald eyes fluttered open, some of his old self reappeared. The first thing he saw was her, and through the pain of it all she could read in his gaze happiness., Adoration. Longing. Lust. “Mom,” he said in a weak, crackled voice, no longer the angelic tune of the boy she knew.
Her fingers pushed some of the locks away from his face, her pensive smile greeting him. “Morning, sleepy head,” she murmured, though the joke fell flat.
She was an attractive woman in her own right, with long, black hair and dark features. She always ensured her skin was well pampered, and her hair styled just so. Dark lipstick brought out the lovely shape of her full lips, and a blush brought colour to her otherwise stricken face.
“You had me worried. Again.”
He’d never done anything quite so bad, and she had to heal some wounds–some of which looked self-inflicted–but looking at her, Glin visibly blossomed. She could see colour returning to him before her very eyes.
The relief at him looking better already was tempered, however, by something else in that gaze. She was a stunning woman, who took care of herself, and she was no less beautiful now than the day she received him. “I missed you mom,” he said, his head and shoulders lifted just so, but he shook from that little bit of effort.
She inhaled, looking at him quite seriously, the maternal love having tempered with his expression. She licked over her lips, and though she was doing it to gather her thoughts, it was difficult for her to do anything but exude sensuality. She was a woman of taste and desires, and even though she’d lived on her own for many years, that sexuality didn’t dim with her age.
“I can tell that, Glin.”
He fell back against the cushions, weakness and pain overcoming him once more as his smoothly perfect features contorted. “How’d I get here?” he asked, pressing a hand to his forehead and groaning, it looked like it took all he had just to lift that limb. “Did you come get me?” he asked with some hope.
“You were dropped on my doorstep, just like before,” she joked, though it again sounded flat. It was clear that she was worried, and her fingers brushed against his light, clammy flesh. “You have to stop doing this to yourself.”
Her words wounded him, and he twisted his head away.
It lasted but a moment though, and his hand weakly touched hers at his head, and he curled his slender digits about hers to hold it. “I miss being here with you mom,” he said, in such a weak little whine. “I… I can’t handle it out there,” he said, and though his eyes were shut, there was some hint of moisture building at his eyelids which she could make out. “Not by myself.”
She sighed as she pulled her hand away, standing up to tower over him. Her curves were hugged by a slinky dress, the red fabric pulled tight over her large chest and ass. She never dressed sloppily or failed to look her finest, even when caring for her sick son. The idea of not dressing and caring for herself physically revolted her.
Her thighs were just at the level of his face as she folded her arms under her breasts, “You can’t keep doing this to me.”
Without turning his head, he opened his eyes and looked to her from the corner of his view. His emerald gaze was bloodshot and bleary from tears. “Why don’t you want to BE with me anymore?” he pleaded, his voice sounding utterly and unfathomably heartbroken by her perceived rejection of him.
Her head tilted back, black hair cascading down her bare shoulders as she turned her back on him, “Glin, how many times do we have to go over this? You’re an adult. This is what adults do. They move on, they find other people, and relationships. You don’t need me,” her shoulders slumped. “You just think you do.”
Burying his face into the crook of his arm, Glin cried. It was such an odd thing to see, for though he was so very fair and beautiful, very fey, he was far from effete. She knew him to be calm, confident and in control as a boy and now as a young man. Since he moved out, however, he’d fallen to pieces.
“I tried,” he said in a sob. “I did my best, mom, I really did.” His words were hard to get out, though some of his smooth, soft voice had returned, but just barely. “It was just so… so empty. So… hard.”
She couldn’t help but turn back to him, slowly bringing herself to her knees next to him once more.
“C’mon, stop that,” she chided, her hand wrenching his arm away from his eyes. Her dark green orbs stared into his, “You can do this. You just need some better people to hang around with. What do you think would happen when you hang around with addicts, huh?”
His reddened, puffy eyes refused to meet her gaze. It was too hard for him, to face her like that. “They’re all I have left,” he said, his voice hoarse again, “after you and everyone I knew abandoned me.”
He sniffled and shut his eyes, “I was a miserable wreck after you kicked me out. They didn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore either.” The hurt and misery was thick on his voice as it sadly trailed off.
“Glin,” she sighed, her shoulders pinned back in her attempt to assert control over the situation, “I kicked you out because I had to. You need your own life. You need your own friends. Just because you didn’t do well this time doesn’t mean it will always be like this. You just have to keep trying.”
So sad and defeated, he blinked his puffy lids, trying to push away the water that blurred his vision, though he only stared at the back of the couch. “I don’t have a place to live anymore… or a job,” his words were muttered and embarrassed, though it was obvious he was trying not to let it show. He’d always been determined to make her so proud, and to be such a useless wreck, so beaten and broken? It was more shame they he’d ever dealt with before.
She took in a deep breath, her green eyes meeting his, never shying away from that reddened face, “You will stay here until you’re cleaned up. You’ll get help. Then you will set out on your own again, once you have a job.”
Even as puffy eyed and shamed as he was, he was the pinnacle of male beauty.
“You sure you can stand my presence around that long, mom?” The scorn on his was voice not for her, but himself.
“You’re always going to have a place here. I just want what’s best for you,” she flicked some hair from off his forehead, “Come on. Go get a bath and get changed. I’ll make you some tea.”
Her very touch, though slight as it was, always sparked a little something into him. And as she rearranged his blonde hair he finally turned his gaze back up to her, looking so pathetically lost, “I’m so hungry mom. I… I don’t remember when I last ate,” and he touched his free hand to his smooth, nearly washboard stomach, more concave than its usual flat appearance.
She nodded, giving him a weak smile, “I’ll make you some soup too. Don’t want to overload you,” she stood up once more, looking down at her haggard son. She shook her head and her dark hair bounced around her high cheekbones, “My poor boy.”
Pushing himself up on his shaky arms, he looked up to her beneath his limp bangs, and a soft smile came to his face. “Thank you,” he said, though she could tell there was a spring of emotions wanting to burst out from beneath that calm exterior. He kept it in check and stood, albeit shakily.
She moved to his side, her arm wrapping about his back and helping him keep his balance, “Damn it, Glin. You have to take care of yourself,” she murmured, concern showing through her annoyed exterior.
She began helping him through the foyer and towards their bathroom, her body pressing against his.
He didn’t shirk from her aid, though before he had moved out he was always infamously self-reliant and stubborn. Now he craved any little moment with her. He was a bit taller than she was, half a foot or so, but he was slender and light, and his long period of drug use and not eating only amplified that, so as he leaned against her, he wasn’t a great burden. “I tried,” he said, and leaning his head to hers he luxuriated in the feel of her hair, the press of her bust against his side.
“I really did, mom. For you,” and he sounded so sincere. “But I was just miserable. Every waking moment. Such misery. I never knew how horrible loneliness could be,” he said, his voice on the edge of breaking as they entered the bathroom.
She, too, knew the sting of loneliness, but she pushed it aside as she slowly pulled her arm away from him, “Just don’t worry about that now. It’ll all seem better after you get a bath and eat something. Take your time, alright?”
She moved towards the open door, her eyes scanning over her poor, lost son before leaving. Sat upon the edge of the stonework around the elegant tub, he was stooped, his shirt wide open, pants a little wrinkled, but he was still hers, and still magnificent.
Lifting his head he peered to her from beneath his fallen bang, “I’ll miss you mom,” he said as if she were leaving him for good. He’d always clung onto her over the years as she raised him and nurtured him, but the depths of that now as an adult surpassed those days.
She didn’t want to argue the point, but the soft sigh she gave before leaving spoke of her frustration with his need.
Shrugging back his shoulders he stripped away his thick shirt and slid it off. Even starved and hurt from his drug abuse, he cut an impressive figure, slim but with broad shoulders for his size, with smooth, tan skin. She saw none of it of course, just heard the water run as he prepared to cleanse away the filth of his recent decline.
Her relief at being away from him was short lived as she was once again left to her own thoughts and worries. There was a valid reason she had kicked him out, and she could quickly see the same process repeating. Still, he was her son, and she found herself already heating the kettle and preparing the soup. It was all instinct, caring for him in his weakened state, but still her face was contorted with worry.
The idea of having to reject him any more terrified her, yet the thought of giving in to his needs was a greater fear still.
It was a good long while before he appeared again from the bath. Freshly cleaned, he looked more himself already. He wore a pair of white pants and shirt, done together by just a couple buttons. His hair was no longer hanging limply over his forehead, and he looked almost vibrant, but for the still depressed expression he bore as he made his way to her table.
“Our… your bath is so much bigger,” he said, sliding into his seat, still shaky and weak.
Already there was a large bowl of soup with bread for dipping at its side, the tea smelling like herbs and spices and cream. It was frothed, and looked so inviting. She stood by the kitchen door, smoking a cigarette before stubbing it out at his arrival.
“You know I’ve always preferred a leisurely bath,” she agreed.
“Me too,” he replied instantly, and though he already had the spoon in hand, soup nearly to his mouth, he paused and looked to her. She was a vision, and no more matronly and beautiful an elf had ever existed, at least as far as he was concerned.
Forcing his eyes down he began to eat, his pace quickening immediately. “How have you been, mom?” he asked between spoonfuls, the question one of genuine concern and curiosity, as it always was. He never tired hearing of her days and troubles.
Angelique leaned against the already cleaned countertop, which was unusual. She usually hired someone to clean up after her, though perhaps his time away had affected her as well. She sipped her own tea, her gaze far away.
“I’ve been keeping busy,” she said, her words unconvincing. “You know me. Always doing something.”
Silence was all that existed to fill the gap. He took his time, eating her lovingly prepared meal before he said any more. “Do you ever think about me during the day?” He asked, “Do you miss having me around?” and the words were born of hope, and desperation. He obviously felt deep longing and sadness.
Her eyes dipped down to her half empty teacup, her other hand flicking instinctively as though she still held her cigarette. The moment stretched before finally she admitted, truthfully, “Of course. Fuck, Glin,” she cursed. “What type of mother would I be if I didn’t? What type of person?”
He bowed his head over his bowl of soup as he was already hunched forward, but a weak smile crept its way onto his face. Nothing malicious but it was obvious that the young man was just happy to know he was appreciated, and missed, if only a little, but it was short lived.
He hesitated over his soup, and asked again, “But not enough to want to go back to how things were?” And he dared to peer up to her again, his emerald eyes peeking from beneath blonde hair.
“I’m not going to stunt you for life just because it’s quiet around here,” she spoke softly though her words were forceful. “You have to have your own life,” she moved to sit beside him, her skirt hauled up around her thighs as she smoothed herself into the chair. “But you don’t have to worry about that yet.”
He watched her every little movement intently, saw the way her skirt moved and exposed her thigh. It wasn’t the sort of look a son was to give his mother, but she was no ordinary mother, no ordinary woman.
His voice soft he spoke firmly never the less, “Being away from you has stunted me,” and he pushed a spoonful of soup into his mouth as if to end it there. The truth was spoken.
She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. The way she moved was so sultry, even in her exasperation. Even in the presence of her son. It was something innate that she couldn’t turn off. “Glin, we’ve been over this. I coddled you too hard the past decade, but there’s more out there for you. More than you could ever dream of.”
At that, his spoon dropped with a splash and a clink against the bowl.
He had a hard look on his face, not looking weary and battered anymore, just looking offended and angry. “We were a team,” he said firmly. “You raised me, mom, but I was there for you too!” he insisted, pushing his bowl away and looking as if he were about to storm away if his weakness and vertigo didn’t prevent it.
“You threw that away,” he insisted, nearly grinding his teeth. “And for what? Because you think I need ‘a new life’? I loved my old one!”
She could see the anger he felt wasn’t directed at her, no matter how much it was her decision. He could never be angry with her; only the circumstances.
“You’re a grown man, Glin,” she remained calm, despite his own anger. “It’s not right for you to keep staying here and living in my shadow.” Her eyes focused on his, her brows knit, “I’m trying to do what’s best for you, and this… fixation you have on me isn’t healthy.”
A panicked look crossed his face, for she mentioned something she wasn’t supposed to talk about. Not directly. Or perhaps it was something else altogether. “I wasn’t in your shadow mom,” he said somewhat drearily, as if despair were creeping back in. “I thought we were a team. Partners. Helping each other in… in everything.”
He looked back to her, his green eyes bleary once more, “Now I have nobody. No best friend. No…” he swallowed, “no mom, except when I’m about dead and she lets me in again.”
Her head tilted back, her slender throat elongated and the red jewels hung about it coming into better view as they rose above her cleavage. “You’re always going to have me, but I’m not always going to be the only person in your life,” she slumped forward for a moment before righting her posture. “I’m never going anywhere.”
His gaze was glued to her. Even in the depths of his hurt and anguish, he could not stop appreciating her sensuous beauty. In fact, it only made it worse.
“You’re all alone here, mom,” he stated with worry and concern of his own. “You have nobody… you haven’t moved on… have you?” and even though he knew what he said was true, part of his voice quaked with worry that she had still. “Why do we have to go it alone, huh?” Something of his persuasive self was back in his voice, that smooth masculine tone, that could charm any woman he wished even without those unblemished looks of his. “Why can’t we be partners? Best friends?”
“Because I’m your mother,” she frowned, her eyes upon his. “Maybe I was wrong to let us get so close, Glin. Yes, I was lonely. Yes, you and I became very close. But it had to stop. You had to go your own way, without me.” Even though she tried so hard to keep her voice calm, it shook.
Pushing himself away from the table, he shakily got up, though instead of moving away, he went to her and fell to his knees. He bent forward and put his head upon her lap without invitation or asking, resting his head to her thigh. “What’s done is done, mom,” he said softly. “And being away from you is killing me. I can feel it… my very soul withering and dying,” his plea was so impassioned and genuine.
Her hand flittered above his head, uncertain of where to land before her sympathy overrode her doubts and she pet his silky hair. She swallowed back her own sorrow, her own aching loneliness, and simply comforted him. Her dress was smooth against his face, as soft as the softest skin, and warm from her own body. “This won’t last forever.”
His fingers curled into her silk dress at those words, but he held strong, and brought up his other arm, putting it about her waist as he buried his face between her lap and stomach. He sobbed into her, the handsome young man she raised, in a mixture of relief and sadness. He wanted so badly to be with her, forever, but he had to sate himself on ‘for now’.
He could feel her body struggle with its breath, her form quaking as she tried her best to comfort him. Soothing words pressed forth from her lips, and her eyes slowly moved down to him.
She couldn’t trust herself around her own son. Not in the state that she was in, not with him so damaged. Yet what could she do? She couldn’t throw him onto the streets, not when he was so injured. She twirled his hair around her long, slender finger, then looked up, her breathing nearly stopped. “Did you finish your soup?”
It took him a while to register her words, but when he did he shook his head, his face still buried in her lap, hand still clutching to her dress. It took him longer still to lift his face upwards to her, “Thank you mom,” he said in his broken voice. “I love you so much.” He had to clear his throat to continue, “It’s like I left my heart behind here with you. Where it belongs.”
She took a deep, calming breath, forcing a smile to her lips. “Just take the time you need to get better. We’ll talk about it more when you’re rested.”
He managed a smile for her, and that expression–as always–only amplified his natural male beauty. Made him look more the confident, in control man he was before he left her. “I know everything will be okay, just so long as I’m with you, mom,” he leaned in to place a kiss on her cheek at the corner of her mouth.
She exhaled against his flesh, growing more uncomfortable with the closeness as he moved and shifted, pressing his perfect lips against her face. It had been too long since she had been near a man so attractive as her son, and an unbidden thought disturbed her. It’s just your concerns getting to you, she chided herself. She was jumping at shadows.
“Maybe you should nap.”
He had lips like hers, soft, pillowy and very kissable. Pulling back he looked to her as he rose shakily. “Will you be nearby?” he asked, his shirt having shifted with his movements so that it hung over one shoulder, showing off a slice of his masculine physique, so smooth and firm.
“Where else would I go?” There was a hint of bitter admission in her words, the loneliness creeping into them. “I’ll be in my room reading,” she added on, her voice lightened.
Looking down at her there was obvious concern for her. He knew her better than anyone ever had. More so than his father, that’s for certain. “Check up on me from time to time, okay?” Perhaps that was his way of offering some mercy too. “I saw you kept the room as it was,” he fixed his shirt, adjusting it back over his hard body, “even had some of my old clothes pressed and cleaned still.”
“You always had a place here. Even if you think I sent you out on your ass,” she stood up, putting the chair back under the table and picking up his soup bowl. Her long hair tickled her naked shoulder blades as she moved the dishes to the sink. “Just promise me you’ll get some real rest.”
Watching her every graceful movement, Glin stood transfixed by the almost unreal, shapely form of his mother. “I’ll try,” he said softly. Then there was nothing more to say and he left down the hall, disappearing into his old room with the same quiet he always had, as if nothing had changed. She didn’t even hear his door shut. He’d never wanted privacy from her, after all.
Her hands shook as she reached for another cigarette, lifting it to her mouth and immediately lighting it. The dishes were all but forgotten as she put a hand to her forehead, looking so obviously troubled. She stayed there for a few minutes before finally she grabbed the novel she was currently reading, walking down the hall and past his room on the way to her own.
She glanced in, and she regretted it instantly in equal measure to how much she was thankful for it.
The once familiar visage of her stunning son greeted her. She could see only his backside, but it was bare and it was glorious. His life of ruin hadn’t given his physique time to deteriorate at all, his ass cheeks round and firm, legs sculpted and athletic. The sinew of his form rippled as he bent forward and pulled back the sheets and comforter she’d left prepared, climbing in and giving glimpse of his manhood.
Her heart pounded as she moved past, sliding against the wall just next to his door. Her book fell from her hand and she cursed, quickly picking it up and moving down the rest of the hall to her own room. Her hand shook so much it was almost impossible to continue to smoke, but she tossed the book on her vanity next to her favoured creams and makeup, sitting in front of the mirror and watching herself puff.
His voice called out down the hall, the sound of her fumbling and tossing her book unmistakable in the quiet house, “Mom?” he called, as if from the past, so pristine and charming. “Are you okay?” It was the kind of concern a son–or lover–could only show for someone over something so minor.
“Yes,” she hissed before realizing it was too soft to be heard. Raising her voice she repeated herself, but she could hear the tremble in her tone. She stared hard into her own mirrored reflection, her expression so much sterner than she felt.
“Just get him back on track,” she muttered to herself, stubbing out the cigarette and reaching into the drawer of her vanity, pulling out a small container of a snowy blue substance, setting it in from of her. She had almost gotten rid of the drugs when she found him on her doorstep, but she was weak.
She hadn’t heard him approach, didn’t even notice him until he said, “Mom?” And then she could see him standing there in the doorway. He wore an old robe that hung loosely at his shoulders, the chest and stomach totally exposed. But more than that he was looking at her with wide, surprised eyes, seeing her in such a compromised position, shaking and looking about to use some of the blue powder he himself had wasted himself on.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice rich with concern.
She almost toppled the chair, attempting to spin around in the immobile thing, and she quickly stood up, blocking the vanity from his vision. “I was just about to read,” she quickly stepped over to him, her arm going around his back, “I just dropped my book.”
It was too late of course, and he’d seen it. Weak and weary though he was, he didn’t let himself be guided out by her, not without pushing back into her, their chests pressed. “Mom, don’t lie,” he said, eyes wide down at her. “If you’re thinking of… of using that… don’t. Please. I… I had to, but you…” he shook his head, his arm nearly about her in an embrace it seemed as the two pushed one another.
“I’m a lot older that you,” she argued, the act feeling almost comforting and familiar. “I know my limits. You’re still testing yours,” she tightened her grip around his waist, “Now come on. You need your rest. I’ll… I’ll bake you something when you’re up again.”
Her stubbornness was met with a surprising well of strength, and Glin pushed her back up against the dresser, jarring it. With his arms reaching up along her sides he took hold of her shoulders and looked to her. They were touching and almost holding one another, his mouth but two inches from hers, “No mom,” he said, though his own hands and voice shook a little Perhaps seeing it had stirred his own need. “It’s… it’s bad, you don’t need it. Not… not while you have me.”
He swallowed, and she could tell in his voice he was speaking to himself and her, for he felt he didn’t need the powder with her in his life.
“You shouldn’t have seen it,” she tilted her head away from him, the close proximity and his sudden strength rattling her. Her coquettishness was amplified in some physical manners, her body acting of its own accord as she flushed beneath the tight dress, her cheeks growing pink. Her breathing was more rapid, “Glin,” she sighed, but it sounded strange. It sounded wanting.
So attuned to her, he held her shoulders tightly, and for a moment time seemed frozen. Swallowing he was almost hypnotized. It was wrong to feel so, and it had been easier to ignore that when he pursued her with no hope in the face of her constant rebuttals. However, now, with her before him he froze.
It didn’t last though. “You need me too,” he said breathlessly, as if some revelation struck him. He pushed in against her, his whole hard body flat against hers, so much softer. His lips kissed along her neck, little tiny pecks at first, and he murmured, “Don’t do it, mom. You have me. You have me” interspersed between his kisses.
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