š phone call. . .įį
ā āÆāÆā ā caleb/mc!reader, 1.6k, incest, somno, dubcon, mutual masturbation, phone sex, pillow humping. @rukii-afterdark , order up! ! part 1
ring ring . . .
you jolt up, eyes popping open before they settle onto your phone, with a groan you pull it closer. squintingĀ yourĀ sleepyĀ eyesĀ atĀ theĀ brightĀ screen, you see the caller's name.Ā caleb. you sigh, it'sĀ 1am,Ā muchĀ laterĀ thanĀ heĀ usuallyĀ calls.Ā you answer and let the phone fall next to your head.
āgege,Ā whyĀ areĀ youĀ callingĀ soĀ late?āĀ youĀ whine,Ā fighting back a yawn.
āaw,Ā didĀ iĀ wakeĀ you? you sound like you're half asleepāĀ calebĀ soundsĀ teasing but sympathetic, andĀ slightlyĀ outĀ ofĀ breath...Ā maybeĀ he'sĀ settlingĀ intoĀ bedĀ himself.
āyeahĀ aĀ bit,"Ā you groan a bit, your annoyed tone remaining playful "butĀ it'sĀ okā¦Ā what'sĀ up?āĀ youĀ ask,Ā closingĀ yourĀ eyes,Ā andĀ snugglingĀ backĀ intoĀ yourĀ bed.Ā lettingĀ yourĀ phoneĀ restĀ onĀ theĀ pillowĀ nextĀ toĀ yourĀ head.Ā
āit's nothing serious,Ā iĀ just missedĀ you,Ā lāÆāĀ hisĀ breathĀ hitches. youĀ peekĀ yourĀ eyesĀ open andĀ glanceĀ atĀ yourĀ phone, wondering if the call dropped. you don't have the volume very high, so you're not sure. youĀ pullĀ itĀ closer,Ā it looks like the call is still going. you press itĀ againstĀ your ear.Ā it's not entirely silent, there'sĀ aĀ shufflingĀ sound,Ā but it'sĀ faint.
āareĀ youĀ ok?āĀ youĀ murmur,Ā confused.Ā the shuffling seems to stop, but it's hard to tell under the barely audible droning static his mic is picking up. you let your eyes drift shut again.
āsorry,Ā yeah,Ā just,Ā longĀ day.āĀ heĀ repliesĀ quickly,Ā hisĀ voiceĀ soundingĀ moreĀ strained.Ā āwhatĀ aboutĀ you?Ā missĀ me?āĀ
āofĀ course,Ā everyday,Ā youĀ knowĀ that.āĀ you'd roll your eyes if they weren't already closed. as much as you love talking to caleb, you really are tired. "listen, it's lateāÆ"
"i know, pipsqueak. i'm sorry for waking you. i just wanted to hear your voice." there's a tinge of urgency to his voice. you would've hurried to hang up if you didn't notice it. it makes you feel a bit guilty. he pauses, you wait to see if he'll say more. "how about this, how about you just go back to sleep but keep me on call. hearing your sleepy breathing always puts me at ease"
is that all?
"you're so cheesy," you tease. then you hum, pretending to think about it. but you're just as bad as he is, you can't ever say no to him. "yeah, fine, but i'm really going to bed, you better not keep talking to me. i won't even answer, i'll just snore"
he let's out a soft chuckle. "that's fine, snore all you like" he replies. "sleep well" he whispers, honey sweet. he's always been so sweet with you.
"goodnight" you mumble, already feeling the drowsiness washing over you. you try to quell the small excitement that caleb even wants to do something so lovey dovey with you. it warms your heart a bit, not that you'd admit it out loud. even though it's not that much of a leap, you've fallen asleep together so many times, something about it feels a little more intimate. that he misses you enough to try and pretend you're both sharing a bed. it makes it easier to pretend he is here, he's home and he's with you, keeping you warm.
your breathing evens out, you almost forget you're on the phone.
. . .
through your sleep you hear something, softly, distant. you focus, waking just a bit. you're alone. but you remember you fell asleep on the phone with caleb. is he talking? something woke you, you're pretty sure. you rouse yourself, focusing, listening.
nothing. it might've been in your dream. though you figure you'll scold him anyways, tell him to keep quiet or you'll mute him. but then you hear it again, clearer now.
"h-hah..."
no way. there's no way, is heāÆ
"ahāÆ fuck"
you freeze. a blush heating up your face. you shift closer, turning up the volume as quietly as you can. just to be sure. you hear the sound of something moving, fast, wet. he's...
he's jacking off. it sounds so obvious now. the soft panting, the rhythmic sound of his hand on his well lubricated cock. a heat surrounds you, you feel like you're suffocating at the implication. there's also a gnawing unease, that you're misinterpreting this and there's some reasonable explanation that you are blind to. maybe you're just hearing what you want to hear.
you've always wanted him, more than a sister should. you rationalize it sometimes, you're not siblings, not really. it's not hard to want him, it seems just about every girl at his school would agree with you. but the shame helps you weigh those thoughts down, tuck them away in a deep corner of your mind. your relationship is unconventional, but you're just close, you just love each other, would do anything for each other, there's nothing wrong with it. you've held onto this justification for a long time.
but maybe it's a lot simpler than that.
you're not entirely sure about what's happening, if he's doing what you think he's doing. butā¦ it couldn't hurt to pretend.
your rationalizations fade, you push the shame to the side, and you dip your fingers, along your chest, slowly, savoring the feeling. focusing on the panting, the faint sound of his hand.
your fingers dance along your skin, you're teasing yourself, until you slip them past your pajamas, over your panties. you palm yourself, rubbing, imagining the sweet friction was against him, anywhere ā his hand, his thigh, his face. you realize, rather quickly, a wet spot has already formed, and you flush, feeling embarrassed with yourself.
did just the thought of him, the sound of him, do this to you?
when did you become so dirty.
you can't help the soft noise that leaves your lips at your discovery, and you realize suddenly that caleb quiets on the other the line.
you pause as well. holding your breath. for a second you can't hear anything. does he think you're awake? does he think you're doing the same thing? does he want to end the call?
"f-fuck..." he moans out, the sounds from before continue, faster, more enthusiastic. you're not sure what he thinks, but whatever it is, he's keeping it to himself.
the idea of him getting more excited, it lights a fire in you. you rub yourself faster. you try to be quiet, you really do, but you can't help the huffs and sighs that leave your lips. it's not that obvious, you think. but caleb seems to get more eager with every tiny sound you make. it's good incentive.
you can't help but think about the situation, both of you touching yourselves while on the phone, not acknowledging it, leaving room for plausible deniability. the idea that you're reading this wrong sends a shiver down your spine.
āngh.. pleaseā he whispers, barely there. and you donāt know what heās begging for but you want to give it to him. you rub harder, then sigh in frustration. it's not enough. you flip, shifting onto your stomach, trying your hardest to stay quiet. you place a pillow between your legs, and waste no time before grinding against it.
you huff, loving the feeling. even if you're misunderstanding this, you like pretending. that it was his warm body heating you up, making you feel good. with your phone placed next to your ear, you imagine he was there, groaning behind you, just out of sight, touching himself for you.
you let out a whimper at the thought, a little louder. his response is immediate, a low groan. to your surprise, he speaks.
"youāÆ mm... you must be having a nice dream, pipsqueak."
you bite your lip and keep still at his words. does he want you to respond? does he really think you're still sleeping? you don't want to acknowledge it. you continue, quieter, a little shy. you don't want the illusion shattered. grinding your hips into the mattress, desperate.
you imagine his body, and it's not hard. you've memorized the feeling of his frame against yours. he's pressing into you, in time with his groans, you move at the same pace, whimpering when you buck back against the empty air. but you pull yourself back into your fantasy, he's there, his soft sounds are for you, only you.
"fuck," he hisses out, seeming to bite back the sound.
it's becoming too much, your mind is getting so cloudy, reason and shame seem like distant concepts. in this moment, itās just the pleasure between you two, his touch, his kiss, his body, him.
"i'mā i'm gonna-" his whispers spur you over the edge.
you can barely hear his grunts as he releases with you. your mind goes blank. you don't bother with being quiet, couldn't if you wanted to. you rut helplessly, greedily, panting and whimpering all the while. as satisfaction washing over you. he hums, before letting out a satisfied sigh himself, and you smile sleepily into your pillow.
but as your heartbeat slows into a regular rhythm, and your face cools down, you're left with a pit in your stomach. the room feels colder, the call is quiet, the guilt comes rushing back all at once with nothing to keep it at bay. did you two really just do that? were you really that reckless?
what are you going to do in the morning?
"shit, i made a mess." he mumbles, but he doesn't sound too upset about it. in fact he sounds a little smug. you don't reply, but it calms you a bit, brings you comfort. a vague acknowledgement at this new game you two are playing. with all it's plausible deniability. you decide you'll follow his lead.
so when he yawns, you let the sound soothe you, you let sleep surround you. you leave your shame to him. he's always been the source, he can shoulder it for you.
it's only fair anyways, you were just sleeping, and he's the one who called you.
he made the mess, he can decide if he wants to clean it up.
