a/n. based off of this mutual’s art (please check them out! (@applepuppy77)). sorry if there are mechanical inconsistencies, this is out of my profession. i’ve only tinkered with my pc before
“Caleb, are you sure you don’t want a break… you’re panting a lot…”
There’s a strained smile on Caleb’s face, thick eyebrows furrowed as beads of sweat line his forehead and drip down his cheeks.
“…Caleb?”
“Hah… I’m fine, pips. Keep going.” The quiet whirl of the mechanical parts that make up his abdomen fills the silence, mingling with Caleb’s uneven breaths.
“I’m nervous, you have to tell me when it hurts, okay?” You bite your lip, picking up the circuit board with care. “You know I’ve only worked on your arm before… what if I mess up?”
“You’ll be okay,” Caleb assures you, lashes fanning his cheeks. His eyes are hazy, half focused on his open stomach, and half focused on you. “I’ll guide you if you need help. Just… trust your instincts and remember the techniques from when you helped me with my arm.”
You shuffle to make yourself comfortable in his lap once more, trying to ease the stiffness in your body. “Okay. I’m going to install the piece now. Ready?”
“Ready.”
With slow movements, you carefully insert the mechanism until you hear a click, narrating as you go. “It’s in. I need to make sure it’s stable though, tell me to stop if it hurts or feels weird.”
Fighting to keep still Caleb leans forwards, smile wavering. “Tighten the south bolt tighter than the others. There should be a red mark on it. It loosens too easily.”
The system is glaringly more complex than his arm, multi-coloured wires threading around the main central core in the middle. You let your eyes trail down towards the bolt he mentioned, nodding.
“Mkay. Tightening it now.” Taking a deep breath to stop your hand from shaking, you take the small wrench and lean in, a tight furrow between your brows.
The second you touch the metal connecting his main system to the circuit, Caleb jerks forward, a breathy gasp escaping his lips. His hand curls around the lower half of his face, muffling his sounds as he flushes red of either embarrassment or arousal.
“Hah… pips. Slow…haaah… down, fuck.” He curses when you tighten the bolt while he’s somewhat distracted, his head jerking back and ramming into the wall behind him.
“It’s done…! Did it hurt? Sorry, I thought it might be better if I was slightly quicker.”
“No, it was only a pinch.” Caleb’s cheeks burn a brighter red and his eyes have yet to clear, still glazed over. They dart away from yours when they make contact. “Mind helping me close up?”
“Mhm,” you say absentmindedly, mind wandering elsewhere. “Masochist.”
“I…aha, wha—?”
Your fingers inch forward again to trail down the stabilizing rod, letting your fingertips trace each ridge and texture. The whirling of the fan gets louder as he overheats, his eyes widening at the betrayal.
After a moment Caleb’s eyes drift shut, shuddering as his hand reaches out to grasp your wrist, though not stopping you.
“You’re not going to stop me?”
“You know I won’t. You can do whatever you want to me, I’d take it all.”
He lets your curious fingers wander, body tightening beneath you when your touch reaches the newly installed component, vibration humming through the metal.
“Ah—”
The sound escapes him before he can stop it, eyelids fluttering shut.
“Sensitive?”
“No,” he says quickly. You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe a little,” he admits.
“A little… hm?”
Caleb’s throat bobs as he subconsciously spreads his thighs apart below you. Your fingers brush a bundle of colored wiring near his core, and he jolts. The reaction is immediate, and the lights beneath his synthetic organs flicker erratically.
“Wow,” you whisper before you can help it.
“Hah, don’t...” His voice comes out wrecked, breathless around the edges. “You’re making it worse.”
“Worse?” you echo, as your thumb strokes carefully along one of the wires. A shudder tears through him.
“Fuck.” The mechanical whir deepens in pitch, and his hold on your wrist tightens.
“Caleb?”
“That’s… that’s enough,” he pants, voice strained.
“Painful?” You pull away, watching him carefully.
“Something like that.” He motions for you to close up his abdomen, sighing in relief when he’s finally protected from all your teasing. Caleb’s arms loop around your waist as if he doesn’t want you to move away yet, holding you tightly against his chest. “Thank you, pipsqueak.”
You lean into him, humming in response. “You know I could have turned you off?”
“If it’s you touching me, I want to experience all of it,” he murmurs, nose brushing your shoulder. “Help me next week?”
Caleb x reader
CW: pseudo-incest, implied sexual content, somnophilia, dubious consent
Word count - 4.8k
Your mother remarried and you found yourself in possession of an older brother. The two of you make a strange pair, but strange isn't so bad.
⸻
Your mother remarried and you found yourself in possession of an older brother. A bigger, unfamiliar house comes with an older brother— as if it could erase your uneasiness as you shift into a new life. With the house came a large backyard riddled with clovers. That is where you found your now brother, hands covered in dirt as he scoured on all fours for something.
"What are you looking for?" Curiosity getting the best of you before anxiety could reach you first.
He looks back at you wide-eyed seeming almost like a cat frightened half to death. You're so amused you have to hold back a laugh. "A four-leaf clover," he said a bit dim.
"What for?" You decide to close the gap between him and you by stepping off the concrete and onto the green sea which he crawled over.
He chews on his lip, sweat on his brow. It dawns on you that he might be embarrassed, and suddenly, you find yourself flush at the thought. To think you've already brought your brother some alarm at your presence on first meeting! What little sister you are— what if he prefers his own company and you had just interrupted his peace?
"For you," he finally spoke, hushed by the summer breeze.
You blink. "For me?"
He nods awkwardly as he comes to stand, a head taller than you. His grip on the clovers he had already collected tightens and you tap his fist, signaling him to loosen his hold lest they crumple. "Ah," he immediately understands you, "I could only find two, I'm sorry." He opens his palm up and you behold a pair of four-leaf clovers already slightly wilted.
You can't help yourself, you begin to laugh.
It's strange, he should be angered by your disregard of his peace offering but he's enamored by your weightless laughter. Instead of admonishing you for being quite crude, he watches you with a great wonder. It's a dizzying feeling as he searches your face for some sort of secret he may not know, the same bubbling sensation that tickles the back of his head as he cranes his neck to look at the sky. It is unnatural for a man to fly, just as it is unnatural for him to be the witness of your careless joy. He is a boy after all, and at his age, boys and girls don't know each other very well.
But you are his sister, not just a girl.
"What will I do with these clovers?" you ask, stumbling over your own laughter.
"I thought" — he mumbles whilst kicking the dirt of this ever growing garden — "that it'd be my first gift to you. Since we're siblings now," he says siblings very quietly as though it is a secret only the two of you share.
Touched by his thoughtfulness you feel ashamed of yourself for not thinking to gift your brother the same kindness he gave freely out to you. Family is not something you're knowledgeable on, your memories (though there are not many since you are only seven) consist only of your mother's face.
Apparently, you come from a faraway island. Your mother, with gentle fingers, would flip through her binder of pictures of the home she once had. Flourishing emerald green recollections of her mother you will never know. This is me! she exclaimed and you peered through the shadow of your mother's shape under the bleary sun only to find a chubby baby shoving a toy into its mouth.
That's you? You sat in bewilderment, unsure of what to say. She looked very soft then, reminiscing a life she can't remember and a life you could never share with her. One day, she whispered, I will take you back home.
Upon seeing your brother you wonder if there is a point in going back "home" at all. So, you pick up a clover and place it behind your ear as the winds threaten to pluck it away. "Thank you," you begin, but quickly realize you don't know his name.
"Caleb," he says with an enormous grin. "Caleb Xia."
"Thank you, Caleb." You take the remaining clover to press it gently behind his ear so you two can match. He bends down slightly so it's easier to reach him and your heart pounds as his cheeks glow red.
Here begins your bloom; you learn life under a roof with a companion who loves you and wishes to know you as much as you wish to know him, is something you had deeply longed for without ever knowing. He dedicated himself to you; hidden in the crevices of your creaking room as your mother and father fix up the old house, helping you with summer homework and drawing creatures and vines all over your arms. You return the favor with your own clumsy lines and ugly flowers. Your parents would look at each other before sighing upon seeing your ink covered arms. Neither Caleb nor you seem to mind the messy newfound love shared between siblings, and so, these drawings would often take a week to be scrubbed off completely.
