My Mom Took In A Stray - Words Unspoken.

**Chapter Six — Words Unspoken.**

Everyone is 18+

The afternoon dragged.

I half-assed editing yesterday’s snaps, tried not to think about him, tried not to remember the way he'd looked, all soft and sleep rough. Before everything got complicated. After a while, I gave up. Wandered downstairs.

Jax was on his second round of 2K, yelling at the ref like his life depended on it. I smirked, right before my phone buzzed.

**Tess.**
*"U around? 👀*"

I didn’t even think twice.

*"Always,"* I texted back.

Fifteen minutes later she was knocking at the door, already grinning like she owned the place.

"Hey, handsome," she said, brushing past me without waiting. I jerked my head upstairs. She got the hint. The second we hit my room; Tess was on me. Mouth hot, hands sliding everywhere. Clothes peeled off fast, messy and hungry. She dropped to her knees without a word, fingers curling around my dick. Fat and already leaking at the tip, throbbing in her grip.

"Fuck, Cole," she breathed, kissing the flushed head.
"You’re already so fucking hard."

I groaned low in my throat, bracing one hand in her hair. She took me in slow, mouth stretched wide, spit slicking my cock as she bobbed her head, deeper, deeper. I was so close, thighs shaking, when the knock came.
Quick. Sharp.

Before I could even grunt out a warning, the door creaked open.

"Hey, man, your mom's…"

Jax’s voice cut off mid-sentence.

Frozen.
Staring.

At me.
At her.
At my cock. Wet, swollen, pulsing in the heat of her mouth. The look on his face, fucking wrecked, gutted me.

Jax blurted, backing up fast, knocking into the doorframe.

"I….sorry…fuck….sorry!!"

Tess yanked off me with a pop, pissed as hell.

"You kidding me?" she snapped, grabbing for her jeans.

"You gotta knock!" I barked.

"I did!" Jax shot back, voice high and cracking.
"You didn’t answer!"

Tess slammed out, muttering about "teenage boys and their fucking hormones," door rattling in her wake. I stood there, still hard, breathing hard, wiped out. Tess was halfway down the stairs, Jax stood there, eyes wide, skin blotchy pink.

I didn’t even think. Just… did it. I slowly curled my hand around my cock again. Gave myself one lazy pull, eyes locked on his.

"That's the second time today you’ve caught me with my cock out," I said, voice low, filthy.
"Starting to think you like it."

He flinched, but not away. For one insane second, he looked down.
Almost stayed.

Like he was curious.
Like he wanted more.

His throat bobbed on a hard swallow.
He shook his head, muttering something under his breath, and bolted down the stairs.

Leaving me there.
Naked.
Still hard.

And way more fucked up than I’d been ten minutes ago.

I yanked on a tee and shorts, tucked my slowly softening dick into my waistband, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Flushed. Wild-eyed. Fucking pathetic. Assuming the knock was that my parents would be home soon. 

"Get a grip, man," I muttered under my breath. Yeah…good fucking luck with that.

Dinner was a blur. My parents chattered about their weekend in Manhattan.

Jax was quieter than usual. Told my mom about catching up with his, voice too bright, too fake. I saw through it. Through him.

And I hated that he didn’t know he didn’t have to pretend with me.

Later that night, staring at the ceiling in the dark, I thought about that moment.
The look on his face. The way he almost stayed. And for the first time, I stopped pretending it didn’t mean anything.

*Fuck it.*

I don’t know why wanted him. And not just to protect him. Not just to save him. I wanted all of him. Every fucking piece. Submitted to me.

I woke up lazily. We didn’t have shit to do today.

No scrimmage. No errands. Just dead heat and a lazy sun that made the whole place feel hungover.

I found Jax in the living room, barefoot, flipping channels with the remote like he hated every option. He had on an old, thin black t-shirt and a pair of loose mesh shorts riding low on his hips, like he didn’t care if they stayed up or not.

He looked up when I came in, almost like he was bracing for something.

I just jerked my chin.
"Come on. You’re not rotting on the couch all day."

He hesitated a second, then dropped the remote with a sigh and pushed up. His curls were a wild, sweaty mess already.

We hit the court first, just to shoot around. No drills. No scrimmage. Just lazy threes and half-court shots that clanged off the rim. The whole time, Jax started to loosen more and more. A little trash talk, a shoulder bump when he made a good shot, a smirk pulling at his mouth. He was faster to laugh, too, low and rough, like it hadn’t been used much.

After a while, we sprawled out in the shade by the fence, sucking down water bottles, sweat drying on our arms.

"What’s it like?" I asked after a minute.
"Living in New York."

He shrugged one shoulder.
"Big. Loud. You miss it when you leave, but you also kinda hate it sometimes."

I laughed under my breath.
"Sounds like home."

He gave a ghost of a smile, tipping his head back against the chain-link. His throat moved when he swallowed.

"And Europe?" I pushed.
He'd barely talked about it. The whole super rich-kid summer trip with his mom.

Another shrug.
"Lonely," he said finally. "Cool places. Cool people. But it’s different when you're just...passing through."

I let that hang between us a second.
Could almost feel the weight of it — how much he wasn’t saying. Later, we grabbed burgers and fries. Ate them on the curb, our knees almost bumping.

No rush. No pressure.

And later, when we were just sitting, sweat sticking to our shirts, sun melting behind the rooftops, we didn’t say much. We got back in the car, let the playlist roll. Easy beats, lazy verses, like a soundtrack to an unusual summer. It wasn’t until we got back inside, and headed upstairs, half-drunk on heat and exhaustion, that I caught it.

The way Jax lingered in the hall outside my door. Just how he'd pause some nights, like he wanted something but didn’t know how to ask. I leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, watching him.

"You know," I said, voice low, "I hear you sometimes."

His head snapped up, startled.

"When you’re outside my door. Late. Whilst I’m... listening to me…"

His whole face flared red. He looked like he wanted the floor to eat him alive. I didn’t move. Just kept my voice easy, quiet.

"You don’t have to tell me anything," I said. "But I'm here if you want to."

I waited until he looked at me, really looked, all raw and deer-in-the-headlights.

"I meant it," I said. "I got you."

For a second, Jax just stood there, chest rising and falling too fast.
Then, a shaky nod. And without saying a word, he crossed the distance, bumped his shoulder against mine, light but deliberate. A gave me a massive hug, and in it, I felt him get lighter.

Progress.
Real this time.