House Themis (Brady/Maribelle)

	"Ugh. " Brady tried not to look like he was cowering, hunched over as he was in the tile-floored washroom. Maribelle couldn't help but feel sympathy for her son even with her frustration at his stubbornness that he had inherited from his father. His left arm had broken badly in their most recent battle, but fortunately given that it was the last battle of the entire campaign they had time to actually lick their wounds metaphorically and, in this case, literally. He still needed to bathe properly however and he had shown a complete lack of competence in washing his back with a broken arm, even though it was mostly healed! The magic kept it set properly, so a cast wasn't required, but that was still no excuse for laziness in bathing. When her son had privately told her that he was in fact incapable of properly washing his back due to his broken arm, she had indignantly asked who was assisting him then, because the concept of her son not properly washing was frankly disturbing. He had shuffled his feet before replying that nobody was helpin' him wash, ma.
	That was how she ended up here in House Themis' washroom in little more than a bathing suit with a bucket full of soapy water to wash down her not-yet son sitting on a little stool, naked in front of her. It did give her a thrill she had to admit, seeing a strong young man trying to hide himself from her in a way that would probably incense several psychologists. "Ma, you don't gotta do this." Brady managed to squeeze out while holding himself in what amounted to an upright fetal position on his stool. "Quiet, darling." Maribelle snapped, dunking a retrieved sponge in the lukewarm water. "You can't take care of yourself properly, and besides it's not like it's nothing I haven't -- will not -- won't have seen before." Why did time travel have to make things so confusing? The noblewoman set to work, carefully but firmly scrubbing along Brady's upper back in strokes along his broad shoulders. She convinced herself that it was just the heat of the boiling water that caused her face to flush, not the firmness of his body.  When she leaned into his back to reach his chest with the sponge her son mumbled something and tried to shift away, but her weight on his back prevented him from moving too far.
	Brady tried to control his breathing while Maribelle rubbed herself all over him. The slickness of her skin and the pressure of her breasts aroused him, shamed as he would be to admit it. Brady had ventured across time itself and he'd foolishly though that the hardest part would be the dozens of battles. Sure, the war was tough, but the worst part was that his mom was hot. Not, like, regular hot but still smoking hot, like she'd been back in the day instead of how she looked when he last saw her back in his time. And, gods damn it, she was all over him. She'd escalated from 'questing' to 'grabby' on him and her breathing was just ever so slightly too heavy to be normal. He wondered if the situation could get any more embarrassing than it was right now, a question quickly answered when she grabbed at his crotch.
	His eyes shot wide and Brady leaped out of a sitting position, slipped on the wet floor and crashed to the ground, squirming out of his mother's grip like a greased cat. "Ma, what-" he cut off, sputtering as Maribelle stalked over to him with hips swaying, undoing the swimsuit as she went. Brady tried to slide away from her but his arm jolted, a sound of pain forcing it's way out of his mouth. Maribelle pulled the last bit of her swimsuit off herself and dropped to her knees, leaning over him. "Shush darling, it's going to be okay. I'll take care of it." One of her hands clapped over his mouth, and the other began stroking him, so delicate it almost hurt. It was so torturous that Brady was almost glad when Maribelle pulled away. He wanted to be unhappy when his mother clambered on top of him, rubbing her dripping cleft against his leg as she climbed onto his waist, but he felt a thrill that was entirely new to him.
	With his one good arm Brady grabbed at her hip, prompting a giggle from Maribelle while her hands remained firmly locked over his mouth and on his chest. She settled herself on top of him and gently pushed down, sliding down, down onto her son. Her eyes rolled back and her breathing was hard and fast when she rode him. The air between them was thick with lust and sweat rolled down her body onto his, her hips slamming down onto him so hard that it almost hurt. His end approached, and Brady tried to warn her, a mumbled moan from his mouth that had been a word muffled by his mother's hand. She ignored him, thrusting erratically when he tried to warn her again before she came, legs squeezing around his hips and pushing him over the edge. Brady's eyes squeezed themselves shut when he came, spurting inside of Maribelle and staining her insides. She pulled off of him after a moment, legs still shaking before flopping down next to him on the wet tile. Brady tried to say something, but she shushed him again while they lay in an uncomfortable silence, Maribelle breathing heavily still while Brady tried to think what could possibly get him out of this one.
	Finally, she speaks to him, turning to the side with her face flushed as red as can be, one eye pulled open to stare at him. "That was very naughty of you, darling." Brady tries to stutter out an excuse but quickly she speaks again. "Clearly, you need to be punished." A wicked smile fills her face, and Brady's gut sank. Things were going to be significantly more interesting in House Themis.