✶⋆.˚content: !gymrat caleb, !dom caleb, caleb is a tease, flustered reader, caleb and his damn panty kink, gym sex, mirror sex, being choked out by his bicep, biting/marking, praise, pet name pips!⋆.˚✶
✶⋆.˚merry christmas heres my present to u xx ⋆.˚✶
Sweat beaded and rolled down Caleb’s neck as he curled the weight in his hand up, bicep flexing hard against the damp cling of his tank. The home gym was quiet except for the soft hum of the overhead light and the low grunt that escapes him as he repeated the motion.
You leaned against the doorframe, telling yourself you were just waiting. Waiting for him to finish. Waiting for… something. You weren’t openly admiring the way his chest rose and fell with each controlled breath. Or how his hair had darkened at the temples. Or how he rolled his shoulders between sets, muscles shifting beneath sweat-slick skin.
You told yourself you weren’t staring.
You were absolutely staring.
He hadn’t noticed you yet—or maybe he had and was choosing not to acknowledge. He switched the dumbbell to his left hand, grip tightening as he started another set. Watching him felt vaguely illicit, like you were doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing. Or maybe it was just illegal for him to look this good working out.
Caleb exhaled sharply on the lift, jaw tightening, bicep bulging before he lowered the weight slowly. Each rep was starting to feel unreasonably personal.
Then his eyes caught yours in the mirror.
Heat rushed straight to your face. You dropped your gaze immediately, pulse skittering as you pretended to suddenly be very interested in the hem of your shorts, worrying the soft fabric between your fingers.
A quiet, imperceptible chuckle left him, and you saw the movement of him continuing his motions. When you dared to look again, he was leaning forward on the bench, forearms braced against his thighs, watching you openly now. Smirking.
“Y’know,” he said casually, as if he weren’t completely wrecking your sanity, “you’re really quiet.”
You shifted your weight, shoulders drawing in. “I’m always quiet.”
That earned you another soft laugh, this one more amused. The apples of your cheeks darkened. He absolutely knew what he was thinking, and worse, he knew you knew.
Caleb picked the weight back up, inhaling sharply as he curled it again, eyes closing briefly as he pushed through the effort. After a few more reps, he set it down with a muted clink and finally turned fully towards you.
“Mm,” he murmured. “Quiet. But I’m willing to bet that brain of yours is running a mile a minute.”
You crossed your arms, defensive and flustered. “I’m just standing here.”
“Yeah,” Caleb grinned, voice dipping lower and warmer. “Standing there. Staring.”
Your mouth opened, closed, then let out a scoff of defense instead of admission. His grin only widened as he stood, suddenly tall and towering over you, even from a distance.
“Relax,” he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t mind.” Then, softer—smugger— “Like what you see?”
You rolled your eyes and turned away, the dismissal weak enough that it barely counted. He knew it. He always knew it.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too late.” He grabbed his towel, slinging it around his neck as he stepped close. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, smell sweat and soap and him. It all curled low and traitorous in your stomach.
You stared down at a crack in the floor like it held the secrets of the universe.
But one look wouldn’t hurt, right?
Your eyes met his arm flexing as he adjusted the towel, muscle shifting under skin, and your breath hitched before you could stop it.
Caleb’s smile slowed, eyes darkening just a fraction.
“Wow,” he muttered. “Did I do that?”
You snapped your gaze up, glaring. “I—you—ugh!”
He leaned in, the space between you shrinking. Not touching. Almost touching. His gaze traced down your body, lingered at your mouth, then lifted to meet your eyes again. Then just to be infuriating, he stepped back.
“C’mon, Pips.” His tone had shifted, still playful but threaded with something steadier. Less… inviting. “Since you’re here, you can spot me.”
You blink, stunned. And surprisingly annoyed. “Spot you? You’re still going to work out?”
He laughed, easy and unapologetic. “Well, duh. I’ve got a routine. Gotta finish it.”
He brushes past you, purposefully letting his shoulder graze yours. A spark of electricity shoots between the contact as he heads back to the bench. He lowers it flat with a solid thunk, then moves to the rack, loading plates onto the bar with practiced ease. Metal kissing metal mixes with the beat of your heart.
He glances over his shoulder at you. “How much do you weigh again?”
That earns a brow arch. “Why?”
“Curious.” The quirk of his mouth, already halfway to trouble, softens as soon as it appeared.
You tell him even though you know better.
Caleb hums low in his throat as he adjusts the plates, balancing the bar perfectly before stepping back to admire his work.
“Huh,” he says. “Good to know.”
A warm, tingling sensation greets the space between your thighs.
He looks at you again, head tilted and eyes bright with mischief. “You gonna help,” he adds lightly, “or just keep pretending you’re invisible?”
“I am helping,” you mutter. “Moral support.”
Caleb snorts, gripping the bar. “That so?” His gaze drags over you and lingers a beat too long, “Cause it almost feels like you’re trying to distract me.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
His posture straightens as he lifts the bar into his possession. “You’d be surprised how much your nothing affects me.”
A quick, devastating wink is shot your way before he lowers himself on the bench. He spreads his knees, plants his feet, and looks at you expectantly. The position does something unholy to your brain.
“Spot me,” he repeats, softer now.
Your pulse stutters as you step close, expecting him to lie back and fall into the familiar motion of a bench press. Instead, Caleb slides down onto the floor.
He plants his back against the bench, barbell rolling easily across his hips as he adjusts and positions himself in such a casual way its maddening. Your eyes widen.
His hips thrust upward, controlled and powerful, breath leaving him slow as the weight—your weight—rises. The vein in his neck bulges as he lowers himself, then repeats it.
Your face burns as thoughts scatter, treacherous and vivid, your mind filling in memories you did not ask for. The way he effortlessly rams his cock inside you when you crawl on top.
Caleb exhales sharply as he perseveres through a rep, his jaw working. “Don’t just… hover,” he breathes, breaking the daydream. “Spotting’s hands-on.”
With a dry throat, you force your feet to comply, stepping into position in front of him, and his eyes snap up to meet yours the moment you are close enough.
That lopsided smile returns. “There you are.”
“I— I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“It’s easy, Pips,” he pants, lifting again. “You just… take over when I can’t take anymore.”
You deadpan. “I can’t lift that, genius.”
Caleb’s laugh is low. “That’s right. Don’t worry, you know I can take quite a bit before I get tired.” Another thrust, slower this time. Intentional as his words.
You bottom lip tugs between your teeth unconsciously, gazed fixed on him as he finishes the set with one final controlled motion. He rolls the bar forward, stands, and holds it steady before easing it back onto the rack.
“Hand me that towel again, will you?”
The towel in question lies discarded on the floor, and an idea sparks. Suddenly you realize you don’t have to be losing this game. Two can play, especially if he’s so intent on winning.
You bend, slowly, letting the curve of your ass peak from the beneath of your shorts. You take your time standing, slower still when you extend your hand.
Caleb’s pupils blow wide, swallowing the violet color until they’re nearly black. He snatches the towel so fast you barely have time to react before he uses it to yank you forward.
“Done being innocent?” he asks.
You collide with his solid chest, the rapid, frantic flutter of his heart thudding against your own. Heat bleeds though his skin. Your lashes flutter, your expression carefully sculpted into feigned confusion.
He groans, the sound frustrated as he tips his head back for a half a second. “You’ve been begging for me to fuck you since I caught you staring, and now you wanna tease?
Your mouth quirks. “You’ve been teasing me the whole time.”
It never takes much to push Caleb over the edge—especially not when you know exactly how to press—but while he can unravel you all day long, he breaks in a single breath. His hands seize your hips, fingers biting in as his mouth crashes into yours.
The kiss is nothing sweet. Its all hunger and impatience, his tongue shoved past your lips as he claims your mouth like he’s been denied it. You barely have time to melt into before he’s pulling away and spinning you around.
The world blurs for a fragile second as he bends you over the bench in one smooth, practiced motion. Your breath stutters at the way his body crowds in behind you, the solid heat of him a promise pressed into your spine.
Then his hands are on you.
Large palms slide up your thighs before firmly cupping both cheeks of your ass, kneading the flesh with slow, confident motions that leave you in a puddle.
“I wanna watch you now,” he says, voice dark with intent.
One hand leaves you just long enough to tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to the mirror in front of you which catches everything. Your flushed face. His broad frame looming behind you. The way you’re already trembling for him to touch you.
“Like you watched me earlier,” he says. “Wanna see your reflection when you break a sweat.”
Before you can respond, his hands are moving again, tugging your shorts down over your hips, dragging them along your legs before tossing them carelessly across the room.
You duck your head instinctively as cool air brushes the damp patch clearly visible on your panties. Exposed. To him.
“Fuuck…” his voice is hoarse, wrecked. “You ruin these just f’me?”
A soft, helpless whimper escapes you. Its half embarrassment, half need as the ache spreads sharp and demanding through your body. Your thighs press together in a useless attempt to ease it.
Caleb’s hands immediately grab your legs, spreading them apart with no effort. “Not-uh,” he chides. “Let me see what I do to you.”
You obey, because of course you do, and his approval hums through him. As a reward, two fingers press firmly against your clothed cunt, dragging slowly up and down, the soaked fabric rubbing just enough against your sensitive clit to make your head spin.
“Pretty girl,” he groans. “Did staring at me working out get you this wet?”
The sound you make is pathetic and breathless, but it’s not an answer.
His free hand hooks under your chin again, lifting your face so you’re forced to meet his gaze in the mirror.
“See?” His fingers press harder, rubbing your heat over that cruel barrier just to drive you insane. “It’s not hard to be a good girl, is it?”
You shake your head, eyes flicking helplessly to the expression behind you, then to the unmistakable outline of his cock straining against his shorts.
“Do you know why I get so strong, Pips?”
He leans close, lips brushing the shell of your ear before his teeth sink gently into the lobe. “So I can do this.”
His hand abandons its slow torture to grab your hips, hauling you back against him with effortless strength. You yelp as your chest is pushed down against the padded bench, your back arching perfectly for him.
“Mmm,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “For this. So I can put you however I like.”
In the mirror, you squirm as he shoves his shorts and boxers down, freeing his length. His cock slaps against his stomach, a bead of precome aching to be smeared somewhere sinful.
Instead, he lifts the fabric of your panties just enough, slaps his cock against your ass once—twice—before snapping the fabric back into place, trapping it there. A broken groan tears from his throat as he begins to thrust experimentally.
You suck in a sharp breath, the warmth and weight of him dragging against you, so close to where you want, is maddening. His movements grow surer, harder, as he pulls your panties taut, deliberately outlining his cock while he rubs it along your ass.
The slick smear of precome darkens the fabric further, running it exactly the way he wants.
“God—fuck—” he chokes out. “I’m going to fuck you in this pretty pair. And you’re gonna let me keep ‘em afterwards, aren’t you?”
You press back against him, dripping into the cloth, thighs shaking as your body gives him exactly what he wants.
“Y-Yeah—!” Your voice breaks into breathless submission. “Yes, Caleb… all yours after you fuck me—mmmgh—fuck me.”
A low, dangerous chuckle rumbles from his chest. “Say please, Pips. Good girls ask nicely.”
“Please,” you beg, voice raw with no shame. “Please, Caleb fuck me… I need you to—haah!”
Before you can finish, a sharp thrust steals the words from your mouth. His cock plunges into your hole, filling you full with no resistance. A guttural moan rips from Caleb’s throat, thumb dragging your soaked panties aside as he pulls back—agonizing slow—before slamming back in with all the force his thick, hard length has to offer.
You arch instantly, lips parting in pornographic moans. His pace is feral and restless as he fucks you into the bench, and you take every deep, pounding stroke like a prize; moaning and crying out, clutching the plush fabric as though it might anchor you in the intensity.
“Yeah, that’s right…” his words boarder on a growl. “Soak me… soak these panties for me, baby girl.”
The slick squelch of your juices fills the air, warm and sticky against your thighs, coating the fabric in your surrender.
“Y’know, I love when you look at me like that, Pip?” hips jerking hard against yours, tip kissing your cervix. “So hungry for me.” Thrust. “So desperate for me to stretch this perfect little cunt.”
You cry out, nodding feverishly as words jumble together into pure need. “Yes—uh—Caleb--! Mmm, C-Cal—oh fuck—!”
A strong arm wraps around your middle, the other winding around your throat with causal ferocity, bicep pressing against your jaw. His muscles gleam with sweat as he pulls back, applying just enough pressure to make your head deliciously spin, vision blurring slightly at the reflections in the mirror.
Instinctively, your teeth clamp down on the slick skin, giving a bite that muffles your wails of pleasure. You leave behind a sharp, imprint that leaves Caleb hissing, a mix of surprise and raw pleasure, before he’s yanking you back and slamming forward again.
Each thrust drives you higher, a familiar euphoric sensation bubbling low and twisting tight in your core. You tremble as he punishes your cunt with long, precise thrusts, every inch shaping you. Your walls clamp around him as you hold onto the overwhelming feeling.
“Oh my god—oh fuck—can I come? Please… please let me come…”
Caleb groans, continuing to push you to the edge. “That’s it… god, you are so good f’me. Yes, you can come.”
With that permission, a hot, shuddering wave washes over, leaving your body shaking, thighs clamping reflexively. You slump forward with a cry of his name, rocking forward as he drives into you harder, prolonging the intensity of your orgasm. The sudden friction of your convulsing cunt around his cock is just enough to push him over the edge.
With a deep, ragged groan, he comes. His load is warm and sticky inside you, cock throbbing with each spurt. He holds you tightly against him, thrusting through every shiver until tears slip from the corners of your eyes and his cock is twitching from overstimulation.
He lets you recover for only a moment, slipping free with a wet, lewd sound. A lingering kiss is pressed to your temple. Then he moves again. His fingers find your swollen cunt, bunching the evidence of your shared pleasure into the sodden panties before yanking them off your body.
tangentwithtanner
romaincrisis
stormborns
germansingergirl
turnnoffyourmind
discoholicmusic
andulkaphoto
