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Movement wakes Yuta up.
He's always been a light sleeper. Okay, well, not exactly; when he was a young child, he slept like the dead, but that all changed when his dad started sneaking into his bed when he was eight. Nowadays, anything can rouse him in an instant.
Out of pure instinct, he goes stock still and controls his breathing, keeps it nice and loose and slow, like he's still asleep. Pretending he hasn't woken up doesn't always work because sometimes Mox still creeps in and touches him anyway. Some nights, though, it does work, and besides, the prey animal inclination for freezing and fawning has never quite left him, no matter how hard he tries to retrain himself to be a fighter instead.
It takes longer than it should for him to remember that not only is Mox out of town for a tournament this weekend, but he's also sleeping in his mom's bed.
Mox never tries to pull shit when Yuta sleeps next to Marina, for obvious reasons, and for obvious reasons, that became Yuta's usual nighttime spot as soon as she started allowing it. Maybe it's weird for a fifteen-year-old to sleep with his mom every night, but hey, extenuating circumstances, right?
Still, despite the knowledge that Yuta is safe, in so many ways, his heart takes its good sweet time calming down from the jackrabbit panic that always floods his system whenever he wakes up abruptly. His breath comes a little louder now that he realizes he's not in danger, and he lies there for a moment and stares at the ceiling as he becomes more aware of his surroundings.
It's dark in Marina's bedroom, minus the little bit of silver moonlight coming in through the slats of the blinds. The only sound in the room is the quiet hum of the air conditioning, as well as heavy breathing; at first, Yuta thinks it's just his, until he realizes that the same harsh panting is also coming from next to him.
He turns his head.
Marina lies next to him, the covers thrown off her body. The bralette she sleeps in is still on her chest, but her usual boxers are nowhere to be seen. Her hand disappears between her thighs, arm flexing as she works herself over. Little flyaways from her bun stick to her sweaty face.
Yuta stares.
He can't see much, given how dark it is, so his imagination starts running wild. His eyes track the strain of her bicep and forearm muscles as her fingers work furiously, her hand captured tightly between her thighs. He notices her eyes flick over to him momentarily before she turns her attention back to what she's doing, undeterred by his awareness of her activities.
That makes sense, he supposes; she's seen him deal with his morning wood before, and it's not like this is any different.
After a few moments, silent except for breathing and the slick noise of Marina's cunt, she speaks. Her voice, breathier than usual but still sharp and no-nonsense, startles him. "You need to learn this eventually anyway. Turn the light on."
Yuta scrambles to obey, fingers twisting the knob of the lamp on his bedside table frantically. The light momentarily blinds him, despite the fact that the lamp is old and the lightbulb is partially burned out, casting a soft, warm glow over the room. He takes a deep breath before he turns back to face her.
In the moments he had been focused elsewhere, Marina had spread her legs enough to give a good view between them. Her hand has stilled, resting against her thigh, the wetness on her fingers glinting distractingly in the lamplight. When she notices Yuta's eyes on her again, she nods him closer and spreads herself open with two fingers.
And, well, look. Yuta is no stranger to sex—he's been having it in some form or another since he was in elementary school—but his experience is strictly with Mox. He's never really watched porn because he's too focused on school and wrestling and BJJ; hell, he barely has time for friends. As such, he's never gotten a good look at pussy before.
He certainly gets one now.
Marina's voice sounds faint, like it's coming from underwater, as she says, "Do you know what anatomy we're dealing with here?" Her eyebrow is cocked, and her tone is expectant. The silence that grows as Yuta's brain spins in dizzying circles is tense.
"Uh…" Yuta says eloquently. When Marina rolls her eyes, he clarifies, "I know like…what I learned in health class? But I've only seen, like, diagrams and stuff." He bites his lip, suddenly feeling inadequate.
Marina nods. "Okay, I can work with that. These," she traces the lips of her pussy, "Are called labia; there's majora," she touches the outer ones, "And minora," gesturing to the inner ones. "Clitoris," she touches the tip of her middle finger to the bud near the top of her cunt, pulling back the slight hood of skin above it. "Vagina." She sinks a finger into her entrance. "There's more, but that's the basics of what you need to know right now." Her tone is shockingly unaffected, considering what's going on, and Yuta finds himself both envious and relieved; he doesn't know if he could handle it if she sounded aroused.
"So, what do you, like…do?" he asks awkwardly. She snorts, likely at how clueless he is, leaving his scrambling to elaborate, "Like, I get the mechanics of it, I think, but…" He doesn't know what.
She takes pity on him and begins to slowly move her fingers. She uses her left hand to keep herself spread open, giving him a clear view of what she's doing, and uses her right to stroke her clit with steady fingers. "I like more sensation on my clit, personally. It's sensitive, moreso than your prostate, so some people can't handle direct stimulation. I like it to sting, though." Her smile feels predatory.
Saliva floods Yuta's mouth as he nods stupidly. Marina rolls her clit from side to side with the pad of her middle finger, rubbing in a firm circle across the tip of it. Every now and then, she pauses to stroke the underside, where it slopes into her labia minora. Yuta's fingers twitch in his lap.
He watches and tries not to drool on himself, doing his best to corral his focus, even though it feels like his brain is sliding into a puddle and leaking out his ears. He's never really given relationships or girls much thought; between fighting and school and Mox taking up all of his sexual attention, he hasn't seen the need. He didn't expect that he'd be so…affected by seeing a cunt for the first time.
"Take your dick out already," Marina says exasperatedly. Yuta's eyes snap up, wide and owlish, as surprise bleeds through his veins. "You might as well jerk off so you can focus better," she continues. Yuta tries to ignore the disappointment that wells up inside of him.
As he pulls his cock free from his briefs, a little noise ekes out of his throat. He hadn't realized how hard he was until his mom drew attention to it, but now it's all-encompassing. His hand shakes a little as he gives himself a few cursory strokes, just enough to take the edge off without getting distracted.
It's a futile effort. As he watches Marina play with her clit and slowly sink a finger into her hole, he can't stop thinking about replacing it with his dick. She looks soft, and warm, and wet enough that her cunt shines in the dim lighting. She looks inviting. He knows she isn't fucking anyone, not even Mox, and he wonders how tight she must be.
"Is it, like…" Yuta trails off. Marina looks at him, an eyebrow raised, clearly expecting him to finish his question. He gulps and forces himself to continue. "Does it feel like anal? Dad's had me fuck him a few times." Yuta still feels a little nauseous whenever he mentions what Mox does to him to Marina, but the clarification feels necessary. He feels like he needs to justify his questions with his own experience.
Marina stares at Yuta for a long moment, her face unreadable. Her eyes dart across his face, scouring, examining, and her gaze is just as cutting as ever despite the way her pupils are blown wide with arousal, big enough to almost swallow her icy irises.
She looks at him for so long, without saying a word, that he starts to backtrack and apologize. Before he can get more than a soft noise out of his throat, though, she cuts him off and says, "Give me your hand."
Immediately, Yuta does, because he's never disobeyed her before and he sure as shit isn't going to start now. Her hand is warm and sweaty when she grabs his—which is equally clammy—and draws it towards her pussy.
She guides his first two fingers into her, and they sink in with little resistance. A shaky breath falls from Yuta's lips as he takes in the sensation. Her cunt is so fucking warm it nearly burns, and so soft and silky he can barely believe it. The pressure from her walls is plush and gentle, tight without being constrictive. His eyes threaten to roll back as he pushes his fingers in deeper and feels around, tentatively at first, gaining confidence when she doesn't reprimand him. He crooks them this way and that, feeling the soft clutch of her pussy with wonder and awe in every movement.
As he caresses her insides, Marina's breath falls a little heavier, a little deeper. "Stroke the front wall, gently," she instructs. She waits until he begins to listen before adding, "Grind your palm against my clit."
Yuta has always been good at following directions, and Marina's specifically, so he does as he's told. It takes some trial and error to dial in the correct amount of pressure to use, both between his palm and his fingers, but when he does, he's rewarded with a quiet noise. It isn't quite a moan, isn't really much of anything more than a slightly vocalized exhale, but it still makes Yuta's forgotten dick twitch.
As he fingers Marina, he notices that she doesn't really make much noise; in fact, aside from that first one, she doesn't make any noise. The most reaction she gives comes in the form of her face and chest flushing red as she pants and sweat gathers along her brow and her collarbones. It's oddly familiar; she gets the same way when they spar.
"Can I…?" Yuta asks after a moment, gesturing between her spread legs. His shoulder has begun to ache from the odd angle he's at, half-bent over her as he sits at her side. She nods and shifts her thighs wider apart to let him settle between them, letting out a soft sigh when his fingers slip free. As soon as he's repositioned himself properly, he immediately replaces his hand. It's weird being between her legs without being in a hold.
When he sinks his fingers back in, he pushes them deeper than before, up until his palm is crushed against her clit and he can't get any further inside. Another soft noise, this one much closer to a moan, falls from Marina's tongue, and when she looks up at him through her lashes, she's got the beginnings of a smile ghosting her lips.
Yuta has to bite back a noise of his own as his head swims.
He shakes his head slightly and refocuses on pleasuring Marina. He can feel his brow furrowing as he concentrates, digging his teeth into the tip of his tongue to try and keep his composure.
"Here, move your hand." Marina grabs him and does the moving for him, positioning his hand so the heel of it is no longer pressed against her clit. "Take your fingers and move them like this," she instructs, guiding his other hand towards her. She shows him how to circle his fingers and roll her clit, directing his movements for a moment before letting him take over again.
Her cunt clenches hard around him when he angles his fingers just right, and he makes a choked noise in response. He locks his whole arm to keep that angle, even though it makes his wrist ache something fierce, and focuses on getting her to react again. He restlessly looks over her frame, her sweaty skin and heaving chest, before another clench regains his attention.
For a while, the only sound in the room is their harsh breathing and the wet sound of Yuta's fingers thrusting into Marina's soaked cunt. He can't stop staring, eyes locked onto where he disappears into her, where she stretches around the thin width of his fingers. The snug clutch of her walls, silky and supple and soft, makes his cock ache so hard he wants to cry.
Eventually, he can't help himself any longer. "Please, Mom? I—can I…?" He stammers, his hips grinding against nothing but air. Her eyes dart down to his cock, dripping obscenely as it juts between his legs, and the attention makes him twitch.
A slow, predatory smirk spreads across her lips. "You're about to go up a belt," she says smugly, "So pass your promotion and we'll talk." The grin on her face and the twinkle in her eyes show just how much she's enjoying seeing Yuta genuinely struggle to keep from tearing up a little at the denial.
"Then can I at least cum?" he begs pathetically, rocking his pelvis again. His dick sways a little, bouncing up against his stomach with the movement, leaving behind a wet smear of precum against his belly. Marina's eyes track the way it bobs before her face softens a little.
"Make me cum and you can. Do a good job." Her tone is still firm and unwavering, but it's not as harsh, not as strict. It feels encouraging, in a weird way, and that makes something fierce flare up in Yuta's stomach, alongside his arousal.
He pauses for a moment to think, staring at her glistening pussy, at the way his fingers caress her swollen clit. "Can I use my mouth?" He has no idea what he's doing, but he knows enough to tell that oral would probably be better than his clumsy fingers. He's always been better with his mouth than his hands, at least according to Mox. He tries to swallow the wave of nausea he feels when he thinks about what his father does to him when he's experiencing something so different with his mother. Having a choice in what he does changes everything.
He wants to make this good for his mother, wants to make it pleasurable and satisfying. She doesn't do this often, he's almost certain—after all, she's always around him, and she always sees him dealing with his erections, so he figures she'd probably take care of herself around him, too. She does so much for him, provides so much, and not just materially; she gives him emotional support and love just as much as she gives him a roof over his head and a safe place to sleep. The least he can do to repay her is give her some pleasure.
Viper quick, one of Marina's hands snatches a fistful of Yuta's hair. He yelps instinctually as she pulls, jerking his head down between her thighs. "Mind your teeth," is all she says before shoving his face against her pussy.
Yuta's mouth waters.
She smells good, sharp and musky. He presses his nose into her pubic hair, nudging the tip against her clit, before he gives a tentative lick. Her taste bursts across his tongue, tangy and rich and a little sweet. He's immediately addicted. All the thoughts slide out of his head as he goes a little stupid, giving into the urge to lick and lick and lick without reason or technique.
Marina indulges him for a moment, letting him get his fill, before she tugs on his scalp to get his attention. "Focus on my clit. I like sucking more than licking, and absolutely no teeth. Don't make me knock them out of your skull." She shakes him by the handful of hair in her grip, and he makes a stupid little whine in response.
Dragging his mind together enough to form a plan of action takes all of the effort Yuta can muster, but he manages through sheer willpower and stubbornness. He latches his mouth around her clit, giving a cautious, light suck. When Marina doesn't respond, he tries again, putting more force behind his mouth.
He keeps dialing it in, trying different pressures until her thighs twitch around his head. Part of his brain, the part devoted to fighting, can't stop comparing this position to being in a triangle choke or headscissors, keeps anticipating her tightening her grip on him and strangling him into unconsciousness with nothing but the strength of her thighs. It's worryingly arousing, and he immediately knows that he's never going to be able to withstand one of those holds without getting hard again.
"Good," she breathes, making his skin tingle. "Now get your fingers in deep. Hard pressure, as far in as you can go." Her instructions are simple, but he still has to take a moment before he can parse them, what with how his head keeps swimming with dizzying arousal.
Yuta slips his fingers back inside his mother's pussy, pressing deeper and deeper until the webbing of his fingers presses against her entrance. Her cunt clenches as her thighs slide a little further apart, tilting her hips like she's trying to feel him ever further inside her. A soft sigh escapes her lips as her nails scratch along his scalp, sending a little zip of pleasure down his spine. He moans desperately into her pussy as he sucks hard on her clit, his tongue pulsing against the bud of it like he's trying to nurse.
"Fuck, you're good," Marina moans, grinding down against his face. She holds him in place by his hair, forcing him to stay still so she can practically try to fuck his face with her cunt. Sharp moans fall from his mouth, unconscious and needy and whiny in his own ears. He sounds pathetic to himself, and he can't imagine what she must be thinking of him, but he can't make himself stop, no matter how hard he tries to strangle back the noises.
Her thighs shake around his head, her quads starting to flex, as her abdomen clenches above him. He can feel the tension building inside her, spreading through her muscles as her body winds like a spring. Her grip on his scalp gets harsher, tugging and damn near yanking his hair out as she jerks her hips against his mouth. He feels like he could start crying at any moment, desperate in so many ways for so many things, drawn closer and closer to the edge of his desperation as she clearly gets closer to her bliss.
The single-minded focus coursing through his neural pathways is one he's familiar with, though the subject of it is different. It's the kind of determination, the kind of tunnel vision, he gets when he trains, that he gets during matches, when the only thing that matters is skill and technique and winning. He likes having a simple task to focus on, a goal to work towards, something concrete he can achieve if he puts his mind to it. He's never really felt that way about sex before, but then again, he feels that about most things Marina points him towards.
Finally, finally, Marina cums. A sweet, breathy moan falls from her lips, quiet and pretty and so fucking hot that Yuta nearly cums just hearing it. Her cunt spasms around his fingers, flexing and clenching, as her clit twitches tangibly against his tongue. He presses himself closer, deeper, trying to drink her pleasure straight from her core like it'll bring him his own orgasm.
Eventually, she pushes him away, and he can't find it in himself to feel ashamed of how he whines in complaint as he detaches from her pussy. Only then does he realize he's been humping the bed, grinding his hips against the growing wet spot forming underneath the head of his dick. The damp sheets chafe against his delicate skin, and it stings, but it feels so good he can barely control himself. Somehow, by some miracle, he manages to still himself; Marina hasn't given him permission yet, and he'd rather die than disappoint her—ever, but especially not right now.
"You eat pussy better than your dad," she chuckles breathily, thumping her head back against the pillow. A syrupy sort of ease spreads through her muscles, the kind of looseness that comes after a good workout or an even better orgasm. Yuta's brain slides sideways out of his skull as his entire world tilts about two inches to the left.
After a moment to regain her breath, Marina lifts her head and stares down at Yuta—more accurately, at the way his hips have started rutting again, entirely unbeknownst to him. She nudges his chin up with two fingers and says, "Come up here," with the kind of quiet authority of a woman used to being listened to.
Yuta obeys as quickly as he's able to, scrambling onto his knees even though it feels like his limbs have been detached and screwed back on too loosely, leaving him floppy and uncoordinated. He jumps when her hand lightly encircles his dick, just enough of a touch to set him dripping, as she examines him. Her thumb lightly traces the angrily red head of his cock, her callus catching on the tender skin and taking his breath away.
He nearly sobs when she lets go.
"Well?" she asks, raising an eyebrow, "Get on with it."
A second passes before Yuta realizes what she's telling him to do.
He moans pathetically when he grips himself, his hand wet with his mother's cum. He quickly slicks himself with her slick and the precum leaking from his tip at an embarrassing rate, making the glide of his hand so unbelievably easy that it makes his knees weak. The pace he sets is furious, harried, desperate, like he's scared she'll tell him to stop at any moment.
He can't stop staring at his mother. His eyes flit between so many parts of her: her cunt, exposed and glistening and covered in wet, blonde curls; her toned stomach, abs clenched despite her easy comfort; her chest, heaving with her breaths and covered in sweat, her nipples hard enough to show through her flimsy bralette; her strong neck, tendons flexed as she keeps her head lifted off the pillow so she can watch; her mouth, pretty and curled into a filthy grin, the tip of her tongue sliding out to wet her lips; her eyes, intense and wild, her pupils gaping, fixated on how his hand jerks his cock like his life depends on it. She's fucking gorgeous, beautiful in a way he can't quite believe is real.
All in all, it takes about two minutes for him to cum.
Part of him wants to be embarrassed, but hey, he's fifteen and he just got to eat pussy for the first time, so who can blame him? His cum lands across Marina's cunt, dripping down the line of her parted lips, oozing over her swollen clit to gather at her stretched hole. He's pretty sure he's drooling.
A sharp snap of her fingers knocks him out of his stupor, long enough to look up to find her staring at his staring. "Clean up your mess," she says simply.
Yuta drops his head down so fast he nearly headbutts her pubic mound.
She catches him by the hair again, stopping his descent before he can make contact. "Calm down," she soothes, "I'm not going anywhere." She holds him there for a long moment, long enough that his breathing starts to ease, before slowly guiding him down.
Desperation wells up inside him as soon as his tongue slides across her skin.
He's never tasted his own cum before. He's tasted Mox's, countless times, but he's never really been curious enough to try his own; besides, he never really gets the privacy that would allow him to feel comfortable enough—or at least, not too embarrassed to try. The taste of himself, mingling with the taste of his mother's cunt, knocks something sideways in his head.
Little gasps and whines slip from Yuta's lips as he cleans Marina's pussy diligently, unaware of how he's squirming in her grip. A whimper of "Mommy," pathetic and cloying, escapes him unconsciously at one point, causing his ears to burn with shame.
He stares up at her with wide eyes, going still with panic, as he awaits her response. Her eyes roll, but it's more affectionate than annoyed, as she says, "I know, baby." Her fingers rake through his hair, practically petting him. It feels condescending, a little mean, but it still makes his dick twitch.
Yuta doesn't realize he's whimpering like a kicked dog until Marina shushes him, pulling his face away from her skin by his hair. She fluidly switches her grip on him, holding him by the jaw with sure, firm fingers digging into his cheeks. He just sits there and pants at her, his tongue hanging from his mouth stupidly, while she examines him.
"You can cum again if you need to," she eventually says. He knows that, for her to be saying that, he must be clearly wound too tight, despite the fact that he just came not more than five minutes before. His cock sits half hard between his legs already, undeterred by the sting of how soon it is, and drools pathetically onto his thigh.
With a whimper, Yuta starts to mindlessly hump the bed like all he'd been waiting for was her permission.
Marina holds him as he does, craddling his head to her chest, his torso held between her thighs. Her fingers stroke the back of his head and down the nape of his neck, nails lightly dragging through his hair, as his hips jump and he whines into her skin.
Unaware of what he's doing, Yuta starts mouthing at her nearest breast. Marina laughs at him, not unkindly, which makes him even harder against the bed. As he keeps humping and drooling on her chest, desperation wells up inside him, desperation for something he's almost too ashamed to name. Tears well up on his waterline as he whines and whimpers, begging Marina to offer what he needs so he doesn't have to ask for it first.
He should know better than to expect mercy from his mother.
"Use your words," she goads, a chuckle to her words. When he peers up at her through his sticky lashes, she's staring down at him with affection, but that does nothing to tamper the expectation and challenge in her gaze.
Embarrassment burns his face, his ears, his neck, his throat, as he barely manages to stammer out, "Can I suck…?" He wants to cry, wants to hide his face and crumple into a little ball like a piece of discarded notebook paper, with his shameful request written inside where no one can see it.
For a painful, dreadful second, Marina sits silently and stares at him.
He's not above begging, he learns, as he begins to mumble pathetic little pleas under his breath, before being cut off by her nod. She reaches up and frees her left breast from her bralette, pulling the cup down to show her soft skin and peaked nipple.
Immediately, Yuta's lips wrap around the bud as he latches on.
The tension bleeds out of him like a hemorrhage as he begins to suckle, his mouth working hypnotically as his eyelids droop. The relaxation that flows across his nerve endings simply grows as Marina sighs and scratches his scalp lightly, trailing her nails through his hair in soft patterns.
Yuta's dick doesn't go soft, but his desperation fades into the background as he nurses, to the point where his hips still and he doesn't even realize it. All of the lights go out in his vacant, stupid little head, his body going limp as he sucks and drools around his mother's nipple.
Marina simply lets him lie there and soothe himself, scratching his head and the tops of his shoulders to help keep him calm and docile. Eventually, she starts to dig her fingers into his muscles, finding little trigger points and knots to dig into as he dozes against her chest. Little moans fall from his slack lips as she works free even more tension until he's nothing more than a limp puddle of limbs.
Yuta doesn't think he's felt this close to his mother in…god, he doesn't even know how long. He feels connected, safe, cared for, in a way he didn't know he was craving. This is the first time she's comforted him like this, in such a loving, warm way. His mother is not a warm woman, but now, as she holds him and caresses him and lets him nurse on her breast, she's the softest she's ever been.
It doesn't take long for Yuta to drift off into sleep.
His already limp form goes completely liquid on top of Marina, his body somehow slumping further as he slips into unconsciousness.
Marina just lets him lie there for a long while, simply enjoying the weight of his body and the heat of him and the way his breath tickles her wet skin and causes goosebumps to roll across her breast and her nipple to pebble. Petting through his hair and feeling his soft, lax muscles brings her a certain sense of peace she didn't realize she was seeking, not until she has it.
Eventually, he gets to be too heavy for her, and she gently moves him to rest next to her. He doesn't wake as she rolls him off of her chest; all he does is mumble something unintelligible and gravitate back towards her body heat.
Marina forms her body around Yuta, tucking his head into her chest and wrapping her arms around him as she tangles their legs together. Holding him as he sleeps is a rare occurrence, an indulgence she usually doesn't allow either of them, but tonight feels like a worthy exception. He just snuggles deeper into her embrace like he needs to be attached to her. She gets the feeling.
As she watches her son sleep with his head pillowed against her chest, she starts to realize something.
This experience was…moving.
Marina isn't the kind of person who desires connection. She's utilitarian, perhaps to a fault, focused more on efficiency and results than fickle things like emotions. Her relationships are formed more as a matter of utility rather than closeness; at this point, her marriage to Mox is more like a business partnership than a real relationship.
Right now, though, she realizes that maybe she was looking for some sort of bond, some sort of attachment, that she didn't realize she was missing.
She loves her son; she always has, that's never been in question, but she's starting to wonder just how deep that runs.
Part of her, for a split second, wonders if this is why Mox started molesting Yuta all those years ago: a bid for connection.
She dismisses the thought as soon as it comes. She knows that's not true; she knows why Mox does what he does. It's simple, really: power. Stimulation. Boredom. He does it because he can and because it gets his rocks off. Perhaps she's a bad person, a bad mother, for not cutting off contact and removing Mox from their lives, but in her estimation, his absence would do more harm than his presence causes. The least she can do in the meantime is provide Yuta a safehaven.
If that safehaven happens to be her bedroom, so be it.