yearner childhood bestfriend caleb ؛ telling him you love him for the first time while he is fucking you so deep
you’re half-sprawled across the living-room couch, one knee hooked over the back cushions, the other leg dangling off the edge.
caleb is between your thighs, jeans shoved down just far enough, his shirt still on because neither of you had the patience to get fully undressed.
he’s been fucking you slow and deep for a while now, long rolling thrusts that make the couch cushions shift under you every time he pushes in.
you’re already a mess, shirt shoved up under your chin, one of his hands occasionally sliding down to squeeze your breast or grip your hip and pull you harder onto him.
it’s too good, the kind of good that makes your thoughts go soft and stupid, you’re clutching at his shoulders, nails digging in, and the next time he drives in deep and grinds there for a second, the words just fall out of you on a broken moan.
mid-thrust. still buried inside you, his eyes lock onto yours, wide and dark, like he didn’t quite hear it right, the only sound for a second is both of you breathing hard and the soft creak of the couch.
then a low, chuckle leaves him.
he pulls almost all the way out then sinks back in to the hilt with one firm stroke that makes your head tip back against the cushions, his forehead drops to yours, voice rough and close, a little shaky under the heat.
“well fuck… i’ve loved you ever since.”
he starts moving again, deeper now, like the confession just unlocked something, every thrust is harder, more intentional, the couch rocking under the two of you.
“since we were kids building forts in your backyard. since every sleepover where i had to pretend i wasn’t staring at you the whole time. since the first time i realized i wanted to be the one who got to touch you like this.” his hips snap forward, punching a soft cry out of you.
“i’ve wanted you for so fucking long it made me crazy. every time you hugged me. every time you laughed at something only i said. i’ve been dying to hear you say it, didn’t expect you’d say it while i’m inside you.”
he chuckles then shifts hooking one of your legs higher over his arm so he can get even deeper. the new angle makes you gasp, and he doesn’t let up, long strokes that keep you pinned to the couch.
“i’ve thought about this,” he mutters against your mouth, kissing you messy between words. “you under me. you saying you love me while i’m fucking you stupid. i’ve jerked off to the idea more times than i can count.” another hard thrust. “and now you’re actually said it. fuck, baby…”
one hand slides under your lower back, lifting you so he can grind deep and stay there for a second each time, making sure you feel every inch.
your fingers tangle in his hair, the other hand gripping the back of the couch for something to hold onto as he keeps talking telling you how many nights he lay awake wanting exactly this, how many times he almost kissed you and chickened out, how good it feels to finally have you open and wet and whispering that you love him while he ruins you on the couch you’ve both sat on a thousand times before.
the pace builds, the wet sound of him moving in and out of you fills the quiet living room, your moans get louder, less controlled, and he answers every one with another deep thrust and another soft “i love you too” against your skin, like he’s been waiting years to say it back while he was inside you.
