It was late when Jax returned home. The glow of his home's lights, muted by curtains, created harsh shadows along the contours of his cheeks and nose like a mask, framing his tired eyes as he turned the door handle--not locked. Turning a corner, the reason for his lack of security was clarified; Angela, one of Jax's oldest friends, was sprawled along the sofa.
Jax had known her since they were fifteen, they had gone to university together, and they had moved in together to cover the rent. Angela, who worked from home, would wait here every night for his return-sometimes she would remain awake, but on others, this would be Jax's welcome.
Gently, he put a hand on her shoulder to wake her, and he wandered to the table, a still-gently steaming bowl of casserole placed there for him. As he dug into it, a distorted and animal-like moan signalled Angela's slow rise.
"And good morning to you too," Jax supplied, biting into a slightly uncooked shred of onion.
"Fuck off," his bedraggled housemate chuckled, wiping a loose tendril of curly hair from her eyes."Is it any good?"
"Yes, very." The only reply Jax ever gave, but one that she would seemingly never accept.
"Maybe it could've used another stock cube," she continued in a wilful ignorance of his comment.
"Soo, what're we watching tonight?" Jax changed the subject as he finished the last few bites of sweet potato in the broth.
"That pottery show--wait, no, we saw the last episode yesterday." Angela explained with a sigh, steepling her fingers.
"We did. I think there's a new shark documentary on-"
"Right, I've been meaning to see that. Sounds good." Angela finalised the conversation.
It was yet another of their rituals. Set the laptop on the coffee table, sit together and just hang while something slow and quiet murmured in the background. Their sofa was simple, and had sagged with time, but this actually made it more comfortable--if a little sticky in the heat. While Jax sat slouched, Angela would lie along the sofa with her legs pressed on top of his knees--often reading something on her phone and responding non-committally to his comments about whatever they were 'watching'.
The weight of her legs would cause mild discomfort and slowly numb him, but he wouldn't change anything. When she asked, he would say that he liked the closeness and he liked to hang out while she was at her most comfortable.
He could never tell her the real, main reasons he liked the arrangement.
In many ways, Angela was a beautiful woman. Merely glancing down revealed her long, luscious legs, faintly toned with muscle and smooth--her left leg contrasted and emboldened by a faint old scar from her knee midway to her hips, along deliciously thick thighs. Faint, gentle pressure on the side of his hips constantly reminded him of the presence of her ass, a perfect mix of strong glutes and thick jiggle; a constant test of his willpower not to stare at for every second he could.
It was fair to say that Jax had a Thing for the gorgeous Angela, but he was cautious--if he broke their friendship, then both of them might have trouble finding a roof over their heads.
"Nothing interesting?" Angela broke the silence, reminding Jax that he hadn't made a comment on the show for- what, maybe ten minutes at this point?
"Uh- right, yes, nothing. And you?" Jax scrambled to recover a meaningless set of half-thoughts. He knew nothing about the documentary at this point, too fixated on the sights and sensations of Angela's legs and ass.
"Nothing here," Angela replied, seemingly understanding his frame of mind as she shifted her weight. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"
"Probably, but go ahead." Jax grumbled jokingly, pulling himself out of his slouch to a better seating position.
