caleb x reader | suggestive
in which a younger you and caleb start to feel things you haven't felt before
You turn away from the fridge abruptly, hiding your hand behind your back. Your fingers close over the egg tart in your palm, just enough to cover it but not crush it.
Caleb has somehow materialized in front of you, blocking your escape. He stands next to the kitchen island, a menacing grin on his smug face. Damn. He’s caught you.
“Drop what?” you ask, keeping your tone light and innocent. You close the fridge door with one hand, still keeping the other behind your back.
“The last egg tart,” he states, holding his hand out. “Give it to me.”
You pout, hoping to appeal to him with your pleading eyes. “But–”
“You’ve eaten most of what I’ve made!” he complains with a stomp of his foot. “It’s not fair. I’ve barely had any!”
“But you can make some more!” you whine. “Please? Can I have the last one, please?” You draw out the last syllable of your plea, while simultaneously shuffling around the kitchen island.
Caleb frowns at you, and he’s about to respond with what you’re sure is another rejection, so you make a break for it before he can say anything. You sprint around the island and past him, the giggles escaping your mouth as you cradle the last egg tart. You hear Caleb grunt, annoyed but amused, as he chases after you. You run into the living area, and he follows you, his arms stretched out, trying to stop you from escaping again.
“Got you now,” he taunts, a glint of mischief in his eyes. He lunges for you, and you sink down to the ground, trying to keep the egg tart out of his reach. You squeal as he pins you down to the floor – there’s no escaping him. He has you on your back.
“Caleb!” you gasp between giggles. “You’re gonna squash it!”
“Then let go!” he insists as he straddles you. You try to squirm out of the grip of his legs, but to no avail – you keep forgetting that he’s stronger and heavier than you.
One of his hands grips at your hand holding the egg tart, while the other is trying to find a ticklish spot on your body. You keep squirming, breathless from laughing. His hand makes his way down your torso, your hip and to your inner thigh. It nudges you between your legs, and your laughter abruptly stops, punctuated by a soft moan.
Both you and Caleb suddenly go still, a palpable tension suddenly forming in the air between you two. You hear both you and him panting softly, and you’re suddenly very aware of how both of you are positioned – his hand between your legs, his legs straddling your hips.
You meet his eyes and you notice that his pupils have dilated. He shifts slightly, his hips rocking against yours. You can feel him rubbing up against your inner thigh.
“Caleb?” you breathe his name as a question, feeling the warmth in between your legs start to spread. Something in the pit of your stomach stirs, and you’re wondering if he can feel it as he sits on top of you.
He holds your gaze, as if in a trance, then he shakes his head, releasing his grip on you, and stands, turning away abruptly. “Keep it,” he coughs, walking away quickly without looking at you. “I can just make some more.”
You watch as he makes his way down the hallway and back into his bedroom, confused about what had just transpired. You flinch as you hear his door slam, and you look down at the pastry in your hand. You’re not in the mood for egg tarts anymore.
