You glared at the bedside clock that read 6 A.M and growled. You had been up until nearly midnight, waiting for his text and once you finally gave up and went to bed those damned dreams had come back. Now, however, the felt more realistic, reflecting the messages you two had exchanged the day prior.
You had woken up an hour ago, willing your arousal away so you could go back to sleep for another hour but there was no such luck. You were too worked up. Too nervous.
Had he used the training drill as an excuse to cut the conversation short?
Did he regret it?
Before your doubts could drag you down, your phone buzzed from your bedside table. You hastily reached over and grabbed it, nearly dropping it in the process.
You couldn't help the sigh of relief that you let out at his suggestive text. He obviously still wanted to keep this going. With this in mind, you thought for a moment before responding.
You smiled as you sent the message. You took yourself by surprise. You had never been one to flirt so boldly but Caleb made it feel so natural, so easy.
You were no stranger to sex but you could never see what all the fuss was about. It wasn't that great. In fact, you found more pleasure in your own hand than you ever had with the few men you had allowed to bed you.
You got dressed for work, lost in your own musing when you heard your phone buzz. Despite being halfway through putting a top on, you were so eager to read his reply you picked up your phone before even buttoning your shirt up.
Finally dressed and ready for the work day ahead, you found yourself disappointed at the thought of soon having to say goodbye. Part of you even considered going in late to work just to get a few more risqué texts in.
Your breathing quickened at his filthy words as your imagination began to run wild. Spanking wasn't something that particularly piqued your interest when it came to sex but the idea of Caleb being the one to do it definitely had you excited to the point you could feel your panties dampen slightly.
You moved into the lounge room, getting ready to leave for work with a quick breakfast pitstop along the way but found you couldn't bring yourself to end the conversation. You really didn't want to say goodbye but the thought of continuing these texts later tonight gave you something to look forward to.
You couldn't help but scoff and the nickname. Of course, he still couldn't help but tease you with it despite how greatly your dynamic had changed over the past twenty four hours.
Getting on your bike and making your way to your favourite Cafè for a breakfast treat, your mind wandered to how drastically you and Calebs relationship had changed over the course of a day.
Never in your wildest dreams did you think you'd be exchanging such filthy texts with your best friend and adoptive brother. And to think it all started with a simple text to the wrong contact was insane.
To begin with you had been mortified but, as Simone had pointed out, he had reciprocated and was still doing so. Your thoughts whirred in your head as you tried to make sense of it all.
'𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦-𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭.' You thought, remembering just how it easy it had been to go from best friends to...whatever the hell you guys were now. That was a can of worms you definitely weren't ready to open just yet.
LATER THAT DAY
Exhausted, you threw your bag carelessly somewhere in the general direction of the kitchen before flopping on your sofa. You forgot how much you hated Mondays!
The day had consisted one call out after another and almost constant battles with low-ranking but very annoying wanderers that seemed hellbent on sapping your sanity. Considering skipping dinner altogether to get some much needed rest, your thoughts soon turned to Caleb.
With a sudden burst of energy, you got up to retrieve your phone from your bag and decided to boil the kettle for a pot of instant ramen.
Opening your phone, you immediately went in your chat with Caleb and began to type.
𝘠𝘰𝘶: 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘹𝘹
Looking at the time, it was already six o'clock so he should be on his way back to his dorm by now. Sure enough, not even a minute later you had recieved a reply.
You felt like a teenager and had to resist the urge to giggle. Knowing he was thinking about you and that you had such an effect on such a disciplined man was empowering.
'𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬!' His response had caught you so off guard you had almost dropped your steaming bowl of noodles on the journey back to the sofa.
This was crossing into new territory for the two of you. You knew it was wrong but, fuck, it felt so right. You stared at your screen for a few seconds before gathering the courage to type.
You couldn't help but wonder if Caleb had the same technique when he was masturbating. Or maybe he just got straight to the point, rubbing himself to climax as quick as he could.
You rubbed your thighs together, desperately craving any form of friction. Knowing that, right now, Caleb was getting off to this...to you...was turning you on beyond belief.
You undid the button and zip of your work pants before responding with your preference. Slowly, rubbing your clit in small circles, you began to imagine Calebs hand being the one to be doing this instead.
Reading over his text was all it took. You quickly upped the pace of your fingers, your hips beginning to move on their own accord as you felt that familiar tingle. Very soon you found yourself tumbling over the edge, throwing your head back as you moaned.
Taking a moment to come down from your high, you eventually replied.
Caleb: I made you come from a few simple words? Imagine what I could do if I was there with you right now. Since you just stroked my ego so well, I'll ignore the fact that you didn't answer my question and just find out for myself next time we meet.
You smile, feeling cheeky.
You: Would it give you too much of a big head if I told you that your text made me come before I could even get a finger in?
Hitting send, your smug smile slowly disappeared after realising, that despite seeing the message immediately, he hadn't even attempted to respond.
'Is something wrong?' You wondered. 'Did he get called away again?'
You didn't have to wonder for too long, as after five minutes, you felt that familiar buzz from the phone in your hand.
Caleb: Sorry, Pips, just had to clean up the mess YOU made ;) But to answer your question; Yes. Yes it did give me a big head.
You couldn't help the slow, smug smile that spread across your face.
Knowing you held just as much power over him was intoxicating and you could not help but wonder how far this would go.
But one thing was certain; you were already in too deep to stop yourselves now.
Tag list: @sabage101 @mcdepressed290 @starllight613 @captain-ponytail @lightningx3 @maidofking123 @idkleavemealone127 @joonjulyagust-d
What happens when you accidentally send a risque text to Caleb, your adoptive brother, instead of your friend?
WARNINGS: Sexual content, explicit, pseudo-incest, BDSM themes
"Send that to Simone, she'll be so jealous she missed this." Tara's words slurred together as she tried to yell over the music. Despite the fact she was sitting right beside you in the booth, you still had to strain to hear her.
You, Tara and Simone had a standing arrangement. On the first Saturday of every month the three of you would catch up and head out on the town for the night to unwind. Tonight, however, Simone had fallen ill and was stuck at home, bed-ridden. In an attempt to be cheeky and show her what she was missing, you and Tara planned to send Simone photos of the night.
The picture that Tara was telling you to send right now was one of your favourites of the night so far. It was photo of you on the dance floor, your strapless little black dress hugging your curves tightly as you lost yourself in the rhythm. It was a dress you wouldn't usually wear but Simone had picked it out for you on a shopping spree a few months back. Feeling brave tonight, you threw caution to the wind and decided to wear it, slightly disappointed Simone wasn't here to see it in its full glory.
Due to the alcohol fogging your brain, you found yourself having to focus extra hard to send the photo along with the cheeky text.
You: Miss you so much :( I'll be counting the days until Saturday next month when I finally get you back.
P.s. How good is this dress, though?? ;)
You hit send and turned your focus back to Tara, sipping on your drink as you two chatted away. After an hour, and another round of shots you knew you'd come to regret in the morning, the two of decided to call it a night.
Parting ways outside of the club, you wished each other good luck for the impending hangovers that awaited you both before you jumped in the Uber. You screwed you eyes shut as the slight sway of the car felt like you were being thrown about on a turbulent sea.
The phone in your hand vibrated and you felt a sense of relief wash over you as you realised it would be a grateful distraction from the bile rising in your throat.
I miss you too. That dress looks incredible :)
You smiled down at your phone, reading Simone's response. You couldn't help but be slightly disappointed that Simone wasn't there to see it. The dress was her idea after all. She was like your personal hype man, always pushing you just enough out of your comfort zone to help you realise your potential and backing you up the entire way.
You: Well, I did buy it just for you ;) I can't wait to show it to you in person xx
You hit send as you left the car and thanked the driver, heading back to the safety of your apartment, smiling.
Once inside, exhaustion suddenly caught up to you as you staggered to the couch. Lost in the feeling of the soft cushions, you accepted the fact that you wouldn't be making it the short walk to your room tonight as the comforting waves of sleep washed over you.
THE NEXT DAY:
You shoved your face into the cushions of the couch and groaned, trying to escape the suns rays that beamed through your living room window. The slight pounding in your head turning into a full blown jack hammering throb as your phone began to ring.
Blindly, you reached out to grab it off the coffee table and answered it without even looking.
"What?" You whine, your throat sore, and head hurting from just speaking.
"Are you okay?" Simones voice called through the phone.
"Dying but other than that I'm fine." You answer.
Despite having drank so much, you could still recall all the events from last night. You knew that last round of shots were a bad idea!
"Just making sure." Simone laughs. "I didn't hear from you or Tara all night so I thought I'd double check."
Frowning in confusion you lift your head off the couch cushions to sit up.
"What are you talking about? We were texting last night, silly." You laugh quietly. "Anyone would think you were the one who had been drinking."
"Uhhh, no." Simone scoffed. "Neither you or Tara messaged me."
You stare at the screen, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.
"Hello?" You hear Simone's voice ask through the phone. "Are you still there?"
"Oh, God." You whisper, scrolling through last night texts. "Oh no, no, no..."
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"I...I thought I was texting you." Anxiety crept over you, making you feel dizzy as your breathing and heart rate started to pick up.
"You texted someone else thinking it was me?" You hear Simone laugh. "It can't be that bad."
"You don't understand!" You try to consciously slow down your breathing as you tell Simone the events of last night.
You begin to read her the texts that you had sent and received, including the response from him you just found.
Simone was one of your closest female friends and too smart for her own good. She is one of the only people, aside from Tara, who knows your true feelings for Caleb. You remember when she first found out, how she had told you that everytime you spoke about him she picked up on the little glint in your eye and had promptly called you out on it.
At first you had protested and denied it but there was very little that slipped past the womans notice.
Once you finished reading the correspondence, you waited for Simone to process the information and answer but your panic got the better of you.
"Well?" You snap. "What do I do?"
You hear Simone chuckle and clap her hands. "Oh, this is fantastic."
"I'm so glad I could amuse you but if your not going to help me, I'll be going now." You say, feeling your anxiety quickly morph into anger, a shaking finger hovering over the 'End Call' button.
"No, no, no, just wait." She says, clearly trying to fight her laughter. "This is perfect."
"Excuse me?" You scoff in disbelief. "On what planet is this perfect?"
You scrub your hands over your bright red face and fight the tears of humiliation prickling in your eyes.
"Well, he's responding, isn't he?"
"Yeah." You say dumbly, unsure of where the hell she was going with this.
"I'd even go so far as to say that he's reciprocating."
You paused, considering your friends words.
Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you began to realise she was right. He'd hadn't ignored you or told you stop, he had, in fact, reciprocated to your subtle flirts.
Even in your wildest fantasies, when you allowed yourself to imagine more intimate moments between the two of you, you could never fully believe that he would reciprocate your interest. This was probably why you had been plagued with those perverse sex dreams recently, because you had to pushing these feelings down and trying to ignore them, refusing to believe he could ever feel the same way.
"Oh." Is all you can say. The realisation that he was flirting back startling you to near silence.
"Oh, indeed." Simone laugh rings from the phone at your obvious shock.
"So, what now?" You ask your friend.
"Really?" You heard her sigh. "You really can't figure it out?"
"Well, I didn't think I'd ever make it this far." You confide with a groan.
"Keep it going, you goober! Keep flirting with him." Simone can't help but laugh before briefly breaking into a coughing fit. "Look, I gotta go and take my antibiotics but keep me updated, okay? I want screenshots!"
You chuckle before saying your goodbyes and ending the call. For a few minutes, you just sit there, staring at your phone, scrolling back and forth through the messages between you and Caleb.
Biting your lip, you bring up the keyboard, briefly considering taking a shot of something from your liquor cabinet for a bit of liquid courage. As your stomach twists in protest at the thought of anymore alcohol, you shake your head and decide to just bite the bullet.
𝘠𝘰𝘶: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬.
You tried to calm your rapidly beating heart as you hit send and placed your phone face down on the couch beside you, too nervous to even look at the device.
Was it too forward?
Was it not forward enough?
Doubt swirled in your head like a dark cloud.
What if he didn't mean to sound flirty?
What if he was just trying to be nice?
Would he believe me if I told him I was drunk and texted the wrong person?
Glancing up at the clock on the wall, you saw it was nearly midday. Preparing yourself to get up and get a snack, you were interrupted when your phone pinged beside you.
Letting out a shaky exhale, you grab it and flip it over to quickly read the message, nervous to see the response.
You let out a gasp at his response. You had no idea Caleb could be so brazen. It was no wonder he had a flock of girls always following him around throughout his time in school. They were like seagulls, begging for a crumb of his attention, it always made you cringe but now you could see why. To see this side of him, and to have it so focused on you, made you weak in the knees.
You could feel yourself, feeding off his energy, daring you to dive deeper. Like the snake in the garden of Eden, tempting you with that forbidden fruit. You couldn't resist, not even if you had wanted to.
𝘠𝘰𝘶: 𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴.
You smiled, noticing that the second you hit send, he had read it, like he was waiting for your response. Very quickly typing bubbles under his name popped up and you found yourself biting your lip in anticipation.
You couldn't help but whine like a petulant child. You didn't think you could wait for tonight to hear from him again.
Realising you were still in your dress from last night, you sighed. You knew you were overdue for a shower, you could practically smell the vodka coming out of your pores. It looks like it would have to be a very cold shower, unfortunately.
What happens when you accidentally send a risque text to Caleb, your adoptive brother, instead of your friend?
WARNINGS: Sexual content, explicit, pseudo-incest, BDSM themes
Sunlight shone through your windows. You let out a groan, pulling up your covers against its offending rays. Intent on getting another five minutes, your hopes were crushed when your phones alarm began to blare. The bright, tinkly tone you set as your alarm, ironically, made you even angrier.
Grabbing it and pulling it off charge, you growled as you hit 'dismiss' and sighed deeply. You weren't yet ready to wake up, having been tossing and turning all night.
Last nights sinful dreams came back to you with startling clarity, making you cover your eyes in shame.
'...Wandering hands, desperate groans and pleas filled your ears.
"Suck me, baby." A sharp intake of breath came from above you. "Just like that." A ragged groan filled the air as the hands in your hair tightened, dragging your lips up and down the thick shaft.
You look up into that familiar purple gaze, seeing nothing but animalistic hunger and lust staring straight back at you before his eyes began to roll back and his hips jerked...'
You clenched your thighs, willing your arousal away as you tried your best to forget that dream. It had become nearly routine by now. You'd toss and turn all night, sweating and panting as these fantasies flashed across your mind, only to wake up filled with shame.
If it were anyone else, you wouldn't care as much and chalk it up to your repressed libido making itself known in your dream state. But the star of these fantasies, however, was what made them so difficult to ignore.
Caleb Xia.
Brave Deepspace pilot, Hero, 'It Boy' as he was known among his peers and...
Your older adoptive brother.
You'd had a crush on him ever since you were old enough to develop those feelings of butterflies in your stomach. Now, over a decade later, at twenty-three, those feelings still hadn't dissipated, no matter how much you tried to stamp them down. In fact, this infatuation was making its presence known in other ways, mainly in the form of disrupting your sleep.
Mentally preparing yourself to leave the warm cocoon of blankets you had made for yourself, you smile as you feel your phone buzz in your hand. You don't have to look to know who had messaged you.
Unlocking your phone, you couldn't help but laugh as you read his message.
Caleb: A big good morning to Pip on this bright and sunny day! Here's your daily reminder from your ever-so-faithful living alarm clock to get your backside out of bed.
He knew you too well. He knew you'd still be in bed, fighting to get out from its warmth.
You and Caleb texted everyday, multiple times a day, mainly good morning and good night texts thanks to your both very busy schedules. But on weekends...
Oh, how you lived for weekends. Where you were both off work and more available to text whenever you pleased, call or even video chat.
You remember how you used to worry that as you two grew, you would grow apart. Especially after he had moved to Skyhaven to begin his pilot training. Thankfully though, Caleb had promised to keep in contact and he was nothing if not a man of his word.
Even on your worst days, when you decided to isolate yourself and wallow in your own dark thoughts, ignoring any attempt at outside communication, Caleb was right there. Continuing to text despite the fact he was very obviously being ignored. Depending on how long you imposed yourself in the prison that was your own mind, he would harass you with calls, non-stop text or even written letters.
You could always count on him to bring back the light into your life, even when you didn't want it.
A stupid grin stayed plastered on your face as you replied, assuring him that you had, indeed, gotten your backside out of bed.
You sighed as your got up to get ready for work, knowing you wouldn't hear from Caleb again until tonight when he sent you the routine good night text. Luckily for you though, tomorrow was Saturday.
THE NEXT DAY
'...A masculine groan met your ears as your back arched off the bed.
"Thats it, baby, just one more." You looked down to watch as his fingers slipped in and out of you. "Eyes on me. Look at me when I make you come."
His other hand firmly held your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as he picked up the pace, making you gasp and...'
You shot up from your pillow, panting, as your phones ringtone echoed through your bedroom. You swallowed thickly as you noticed the Caller ID of the video call. Quickly patting down your hair which had become messed from yet another restless night, you swiped to answer.
"Well, good mornin', sleepyhead. I didn't think your were ever going to answer." He smiled at you from the screen in your hands.
His hair was wet, the dark brown strands, falling into his eyes. Clearly, he had already been for his morning run and a shower. Small droplets falling off the ends and onto his bare shoulders.
'Fuck.' You whine internally. 'Of course he had to call me while he is shirtless.'
"Caleb! It's six in the morning." You groan. The anger at having had your dream orgasm interrupted rising to the surface. "I thought I told you not to call me until after nine on weekends."
"But what if it's an emergency?"
You freeze, slightly worried. "Is it an emergency."
"No." He smiles, giving you his trademark shiteating grin. "But now that your up..."
"How can you be so happy at such a ridiculous hour?"
Too tired to even hold the phone, you rest it against a pillow in the middle of the bed before sitting up to against your headboard, legs crossed in front of you.
He smile drops suddenly as he pauses briefly. His eyes quickly scanning the screen before clearing his throat, a smile spreading back onto his face. "Because, my dear adjutant in anarchy, we are long overdue for a catch up."
"Caleb..." You sigh. It has been almost nine months since you last saw him and as much as you missed him, you couldn't just put in a leave request at the last minute.
"Wait. Just hear me out." He stopped your protest. "Grans birthday is a month away and it falls on a Saturday. A perfect excuse for a weekend get-together wouldn't you say?"
'A month would be plenty of notice, not that I would need it since it would be on a weekend.' You thought to yourself and nodded. Returning your focus to the phone, you found Caleb patiently waiting for you to decide, his eyes glancing about the screen, seemingly unfocused.
"What did you have in mind?" You smirk, eager to hear his plan.
"Oh, well..." He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck and clearing his throat yet again, looking down. "I was thinkin' that pay her a surprise visit on her special day. Imagine it, both of us, knockin' in her door, birthday cake in hand and then we take her out for dinner at that place she loves."
"The one on the pier in Whitesand Bay?"
"Yeah, that's the one. She'll absolutely love it."
You're so excited, you can't stop the smile spreading across your face and neither can Caleb. It had been too long since you had all been under the one roof, together.
"I'll book the reservations." You can't help but bounce a little in your excitement.
You see Calebs smile briefly falter before its quickly recovered, his eyes scanning the screen again. "And I'll order the cake." He responds, clearing his throat and rubbing at his red ears.
"Are you okay?" You can't help but ask.
"Don't you worry about me, Pipsqueak. You just worry about the reservations, yeah?" He gives you a grin and cheeky wink. "I gotta go, I promised Gideon a one-on-one." He says, you can hear him bouncing the basketball somewhere off screen.
"Aye-aye, Captain." You shoot back with a laugh as he rolls his eyes.
Hitting 'End Call', you sit there, leaving your phone still propped against the pillow as your mind whirls in excitement. As you sit and begin reminiscing about the past birthdays you three shared together you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the now black phone screen and freeze.
You were still in your pyjamas which consisted of a pair of tight short black pants with white edging and a white tank top. Nothing Caleb hadn't seen you in before but his call had caught you so off-gaurd that you forgot to put a bra on. The cold air in the room, making your nipples harden visibly, poking through the white, almost see through material.
Prologue: As your brother, Caleb always took great pride in the fact that he was always the first to notice the little things when it came to you. When you were hurt, when you were sick, when you were lying or keeping a secret. What will Caleb do when he notices just how much his precious little adopted sister has grown? Can he fight the filthy, rotten feelings threatening to ruin all he holds dear?
(Caleb x Reader, no use of 'Y/N, AFAB reader, size difference.)
NOTE: Sorry this took so long but after getting sick, my laptop breaking and then getting sick again, I redid the entire chapter to make sure it was worth the wait!
YOUR POV:
You couldn't help the moans that spilled past your lips, feeling his large and calloused hands slide over your ass. You felt almost drunk from the lust overriding any rational thoughts. Your hands bunch up the sheets beside your head as his hands continue to explore and massage.
Catching you off guard, his fingers firmly slide between your ass cheeks and down over your clothed pussy, nearly making your legs give out from under you.
"Oh, you must be pent up if that's all it takes to bring you to your knees." Caleb laughs darkly before doing it again and inhaling sharply through clenched teeth. "Fuck, your wet."
Calebs fingers traced the outline of the panties on your hips before he dug his fingers under, dragging them down your legs and out from under your feet. You couldn't tell where he put them but you felt confident that they were going straight into his pocket.
His hands came back to grip either side of your ass, hiss thumbs tracing the lines of your labia, gently spreading them as he did so. You lust filled brain got the better of you and being so sick of waiting you thrust yourself back.
'SLAP'
A warm pain radiated up the outside of your right thigh. "Patience..." He tsked. "is a valuable lesson that your going to be learning tonight."
"Please touch me." You whined before you felt his hand in your hair, pulling you off the bed to stand.
His hard cock ground against the small of your back. "I don't think you have the rights to be making demands here, darling."
He whispered hotly in your ear. "Sure, I could take you right now and I know you'd let me, but where's the punishment in that?"
You tried not to huff in displeasure. You forgot this was a lesson for your attitude earlier and you knew better than anyone else just how stubborn Caleb could be.
Suddenly, you were spun around, picked up and deposited on the bed so fast it made your head spin. He leaned his head down to yours, stopping short of his lips meeting yours. His breath fanned across your lips.
You both sat there frozen, as if both fighting internal conflicts, knowing that once this line was crossed there was no way either one of you were going to be able to come back from it
'But...' You rationalised 'boundaries had already been crossed. What's the harm in adding one more to the list?'
"Caleb, ple..." Your begging was cut off when he pushed his lips against yours. You were pushed down against the bed, his lips never leaving yours as his hands intertwined with yours and pinned them to the bed.
The kiss was not chaste, it was firey, blinding and possessive. Caleb didn't test the waters, instead he plunged his tongue into your mouth, immediately finding your own and twirling it against his. Your breath caught in your throat in the intensity and you had no choice but to give in with a whimper and a moan.
Your legs immediately wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer until he was grinding his clothed cock against your bare pussy.
"Trying to distract me?" He panted, nipping his way down your neck.
"Maybe." Your replied, breathlessly. "Is it working?"
His tongue traced top of your dress along the swell of your breasts. "Unfortunately for you, you're going to have to try harder than that." His hands came up to push the top of your dress under your breasts, a growl leaving his throat at the sight of your erect nipples, begging for his attention.
He wasted no time dipping his head and roughly sucking a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud before he clenched his teeth around it and pulled. You hissed, the stretch of it bordering the line between pleasurable and painful. With a wet smack, your nipple was released, his lips curling into a cruel smirk as he stared down at you before turning his attention to your other breast.
Your hands gripped the bedsheets by your head as your arched your back, as if you were trying to push your nipples further into his cruel, warm mouth. Unfortunately, however, you weren't getting friction where you so desperately craved. Caleb, despite being in a seemingly animalistic state, still remained concious enough to keep himself from rubbing into you, giving you what you so desperately craved.
"Please..." You groaned as he once again pulled your nipple between his lips
A wet 'pop' sounded as he released it and gave a small chuckle. "I honestly did not expect you to resort to begging so quickly."
"Please." You say again, almost whining now.
"Did you forget every other word in your vocabulary?" He huffs a laugh, slowly kissing his way down your stomach.
The sound of your heavy breathing and his wet kisses sounded loudly in the quiet room and only served to further your arousal.
As he mouth reached just above your mons pubis, you couldn't help the smile that broke across your face.
Slowly his arms shifted under your thighs to throw your legs over his shoulder.
'Finally!'
You were sorely disappointed, however, when the touch you had been craving never came. Looking down, you saw Caleb staring directly at your most intimate area, his mouth open as he stared in silent reverie. A blush overtook you, making your face heat up and forcing you to close your eyes.
"Caleb, please!" You threw your head back in frustration. "I've been waiting for over twenty minutes, just..."
His sharp scoff cut you off. "I've been waiting over twelve years, pip, so don't you dare talk to me about waiting." Caleb pursed his lips blew a cold rush over your wet labia, teasing you. "Let me savour this moment and consider this part of your punishment."
Slowly, he leaned in. The tip of his tongue gliding from the bottom of one lip to the side of your clit before he repeated the process on the other side.
You bit you lip, well aware that begging wasn't going to get you anywhere.
Caleb looked up, his amethyst eyes boring into yours and as though taking pity on you, the flat of his tongue finally met your entrance before licking upwards. As his tongue reached your clit, you could no longer focus, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your tense body relaxed into the bed.
"Oh my God." You sighed with a smile. "Thank you."
You heard him laugh, his warm breath fanning against your pussy. "I must say, being thanked for this is a first for me." A quick open mouth kiss against your pussy, your lips catching between his as he gave them a small suck. "But I wouldn't be thanking me just yet."
The tip of his tongue darting out to tickle against the opening, flicking quickly back and forth before pushing into the entrance. The bridge of his nose came to rest firmly against your clit, moving slightly with every lap and thrust of his tongue.
While the pace was slow, you could feel that familiar fluttering in the pit of your stomach begin. Abruptly, before you even had the chance to give yourself over to the sensation, he stopped, looking up at you with a smirk.
"What the fuck?" You growl between clenched teeth, shifting yourself up onto you elbows to get a look at the shit-eating grin he wore.
"Something wrong?" He pressed a light kiss to the thigh currently resting on his shoulder as his fingertips traced your hips.
"Y..yes!" You sputter in disbelief of the nerve on this man. "I want to..." You were unable to finish the sentence, your face heating up in embarrassment.
"Want to what?" He gave you thigh a small nip. "Say it."
"I want to fucking come!" You spit, having had enough of his stupid little game.
"Fine." He shrugged. "But you should be careful what you wish for."
Suddenly, the invisible weight of his evol crushed your upper body, pinning your top half to the bed. Any protest you had prepared died on the tip of your tongue as you felt his thumbs spread your pussy and his lips firmly attached directly to your clit.
Your hips would have shot off the bed if it hadn't been for the strong arms pinning you down.
His tongue lashed against the tiny bundle of nerves as he simultaneously sucked. Your thighs clenched involuntarily around his head, the sensation too much to bear.
"Stop..." You pant, holding back squeals. "It's too much."
Your pleas only seemed to spur him on further as he began to moan, the vibrations of it adding to the already overwhelming sensation.
What started off as butterflies had turned into a boiling hot coil, threatening to snap. Unable to hold back, you gave a sob as you felt something inside burst. Your orgasm didn't simply wash over you like any other one you had before, it was ripped out of you.
Your bucking hips suddenly stilled as you felt spurts of liquid shooting from you, running over the globes of your ass. You couldn't move, the sensation was so startling that you had seeminly froze. You both simultaneously wanted to get away and wanted to push yourself further onto his tongue.
Abruptly, Caleb lifted his head, your hips dropping back to the bed in relief of the respite he was giving you.
"Crying already?"
You blinked down at him, confused. As you finally got your mental capacity back, that's when you noticed it. The tell-tale wet tracks on your cheeks that signalled you had been crying.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He chuckled, leaning over you to drag his tongue across your wet cheeks and moaned. "Even your tears are delicious."
Your felt his hand snakes it's way between your bodies, his fingertips dragging across your stomach and to your core. Going to stop his hands with your own from touching the still sensitive area, you realise that he still had your hands pinned with his evol. You scrunched your eyes shut as his fingers found your clit and rubbed. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't even close your legs, his hips firmly slotted between your preventing your legs from closing.
"Shhhh, don't fight it." He crooned, one finger dipping further down to find your entrance. "You asked for this, yeah?"
Shakily, you nod. "It's just sensitive."
"I know, baby, I know." His finger slowly dipping into your wet heat. "But that's what gonna make this feel even better."
Slowly, he began pushing his middle finger back and forth, dipping further into you on each stroke until it was completely inside you.
"Fuck you're tight." He hissed, looking down between your bodies to where he was finger fucking you at a leisurely pace. "But you can take another one, can't you baby?"
You nodded your head vigorously. As good as it felt with his thick finger you just needed a little more.
Immediately, his ring finger joined his middle, pumping steadily in and out of your body.
Lulled into a false sense of security, you had just begun to relax when his thumb suddenly pressed firmly into your clit and his fingers began pumping at an almost punishing pace.
"Ah..."
Your clit still being sensitive and his fingers working quickly over you g-spot had your next orgasm quickly approaching and clamping down on his fingers.
"Stop fightin' it." He groaned, his face pinched as if he were in pain as he keept up his relentless pace. "Let it go."
Following his instructions, you did your best to relax as the wave crashed over you. Your thighs shaking against his hips as you were pulled into that mind numbing state of bliss.
"Caleb!" You said, your voice sounding frantic as you realised he wasn't letting up.
"I know you have more in you." His fingers not stopping or slowing. "Give it to me."
Almost subconsciously, your shaking feet came up to uselessly push at his hips, desperate to get him off you for a moment of reprieve.
Another, even bigger orgasm came barrelling down upon you, making your whole body convulse with its power.
Your eyes rolled back into your head as your body gave in, warm liquid spraying out between the harsh thrusts of his fingers.
"That's it, soak the fucking bed." The loud wet sounds echoed around the room only adding to your intense state of arousal.
Your moans had turns to sobs and then a sigh of relief when you felt him pulls his fingers out of you.
You felt his press a gentle kiss to your cheek before he realised his evol hold on you and lift himself up to sit back on his knees.
You opened your eyes to see him smirking down at you.
"Well, that's was a good warm up, huh?"
You almost choked. "Warm up?"
You watched as he hopped off the bed and began removing his clothes.
"Did you really think I was finished with you?" He snorted, bending to remove his black boxer briefs.
A snarky retort died on your tongue as you watched him stand back up, his thick erect cock now visible. His red tip leaked with pre-cum as he began to fist his cock slowly.
Climbing back on to the bed and hovering over you, you gasped when you felt the slick, hard member come to rest against your stomach.
"Originally, for your punishment, I was just going to work you into a frenzy and then not let you come." He told you non-chalantly as if discussing the weather. "But after you begged so beautifully, I decided to go with a bit of over stimulation instead." He admitted, reaching down to rub the weeping tip against your overworked clit.
You bit your lip.
'He's gonna kill me.' You whimpered internally.
"I hope you're ready."
You nodded your consent.
'He may kill me. But what a way to go' You thought.
Sliding the tip further down, it notched against your entrance. Bit by bit, he pushed further and further in, groaning with every millimetre.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, doing your best to keep still. Soon, the head of his cock breached your entrance, making you gasp.
"It's okay, baby." He said, wrapping his arms under your shoulders to hold you closer. "Just a bit more."
Thrust by thrust, he slowly sunk himself deeper, almost making you jump with every drag of the head over your g-spot.
Once he was buried completely to the hilt, he let out the breath he had been holding. Leaning down his lips tenderly met yours, his tongue gliding softly alongside your own.
Eventually, he pulled away, looking down into your eyes, seemingly searching for any hesitation. Realising there was no trace of hesitation in your face, he pulled your legs up, resting your knees against your chest and gave a quick, deep thrust.
"Oh...fuck." You hissed, screwing your eyes shut.
"Can't take Gēge's cock?" His words dripped with feigned sympathy. "Is it too much already for my little pipsqueak?"
You shook your head, too stubborn to admit just how much a simple thrust had affected you.
"If you say so..." And with that he began pounding brutally. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix with every thrust and stealing the breath from your lungs.
He was already big, but this angle made him feel impossibly large inside of you. You had to fight the urge to jerk away each time he bottomed out, the feeling blurring the lines between pleasure and pain.
The tip of his cock dragged deliciously over your g-spot eith each thrust, making the feet you had resting on his shoulders twitch violently.
"Didn't think this tight little pussy could handle it." He grunted, his eyes screwed shut tightly. "Takin' it so good for your Gēge."
You could feel the pleasure building, each sweet sting of his deep thrusts sending you careening even further toward the precipice.
"Caleb, I-I'm gonna..."
Quickly, his hand shot between your bodies to rub your clit.
"That's it, baby." He grunted between thrusts. "Take me with you."
With that, you were sent spiralling over the edge. Your thighs shook as your rode wave after wave. Caleb's thrust grew eratic at the feeling of you clamping down so tightly on his cock, his orgasm clearly not far behind your own.
With one, two, three more deep thrusts, he threw his head back, a choked groan escaping his lips as his hips stuttered. You felt his cock twitch and the quick spurts of warm come flood your body before his thrusts slowly died down.
His head fell forward to rest his forhead against yours, a dopey smirk on his face as he panted heavily, fighting for breath.
"Fuck, that was..." you trailed off as you continued panting from your climax.
Caleb let out a soft chuckle. "I agree." Slowly, he dropped your legs from his shoulders and slid his cock from you but continued holding on as if he were afraid to let you go.
As you lie with Caleb beside you, holding each other and basking in the afterglow, you couldn't help but wonder what this would mean for the two of you.
You had no idea what was going to happen next but you knew this was NOT the last time. Both of you were in too deep now for this to be over and as much as it should have worried you, you couldn't help the sly grin that spread across your face.
Good morning, class lol. Let's kick the analysis series off with Caleb's living room! This post will also explain the "unknown area" listed in the first post and then very briefly touch on the kitchen.
The Living Room:
Throughout the main story, Caleb's living room is depicted in various stages of decoration. The first depiction (left) is shown when the protagonist first enters his home. They give us a panning shot of it, so I've stitched the image together as per usual. This initial depiction is what I used for my floorplan sketch. But over the timeline of the story, we're shown various additions (right) to the decoration:
An apple pillow
An animal pelt rug
Additional books on the upper shelf
A lamp on the lower shelf
A large poster
A round table with a dish of apples
For this next part to make sense, I'd like to point out the following living room details because they're very important:
The couch style, cushion configuration, and the lap desk attachment
The layout of the far right corner (diagonal step, window and curtains, "coat rack thing", fireplace, bench/seat)
The "coat rack thing" and pile of packages in the foreground
The "Unknown Area":
In the "Captive Bird" portion of the Main Story, we get two scenes that occur in the "Unknown Area": scene #1 (when Caleb is treating the protagonist's wounds) and scene #2 (when Caleb and the protagonist argue). Based on what we can see in both scenes, I'm 99% confident that it's just the living room shown from different angles/perspectives.
Remember those important living room details? If we look closely at the background throughout scene #1, we can see some of those same details. This suggests that we're seeing the farthest side of the original living room depiction. Here are those details captured in still shots:
At the end of scene #1, when Caleb walks across the room, we can see the following additional features of the room:
Windows and a slanted portion of the wall to the right of the TV table
The TV table with a TV, a lamp, and a rubix cube
Windows to the left of the TV table
In scene #2 (if you pause and screenshot a billion times), we can see an almost 360 view of the area. In addition to the new details this scene reveals, it also shows common elements shown in scene #1 and the initial living room depiction. We start facing the windows from the farthest side of the living room depiction. Then, as we turn left, we see the diagonal wall, the TV table, and the windows on the other side.
As we continue turning left (images ordered 1-4 below), we can see a hallway, stairs, another fireplace, another room, and "two seat" side of the couch. The configuration of the cushions and the lap desk attachment directly match the living room depiction. We can even see the pile of packages.
(Images below have been brightened for maximum visibility)
Theorized Floorplan:
So, after all of that detective work and taking the above analysis into account, here is my theorized floorplan for the living room.
Bonus Detail:
As a bonus detail, when Caleb says "I'm about to leave. It'd be nice if we had a meal together", he's pulling the protaganist towards that "other room". Based on that clue and other supporting evidence I'll cover in the next post, it seems to suggest the "other room" is actually the kitchen. Buuuuut we'll cover all that soon!
summary - Driven by curiosity, you impulsively open Caleb's ajar bathroom door and find him, near-naked and captivating, polishing a gun. His intense gaze meets yours in the mirror, creating a moment of charged silence and unspoken questions.
pairing - Caleb!Yandere x Reader (Best friends!au)
(nsfw +18) - He is absolutely insane in this (they both are), inexperienced!reader!first time, male!receiving, female!receiving, vaginal raw shower sex, creampie, a lot of tears, gun play as in...literally, knife throwing, a lot of banter and tension, gravity and resonance evol usage, praise kink, nipple play, neck biting, pet names(sweetheart, baby, princess), a lot of dirty talk, he is very much bossy, possessive and sadistic as always. This is a little bit angst but sweet. He likes it rough.
w-20k - Got carried away with this one because I was too excited. I don't even care that it isn't like the original. I needed this.
Masterlist
The rhythmic drumming of the shower fills the opulent, cloud-kissed apartment. Skyhaven, a marvel of suspended architecture and technological prowess, hums with a quiet energy, a stark contrast to the sudden flutter in your chest. You're here, a visitor in Caleb's extraordinary world, drawn by a longing that has quietly bloomed over years of shared history. A mischievous impulse takes hold – a desire to catch him off guard, to inject a spark of playful surprise into his meticulously ordered life.
Your mind drifts back to the Chronorift Catastrophe of '34, a dark mark on the timeline that had unexpectedly woven your lives together. Orphaned in its wake, you and Caleb found solace and a surrogate family in Gran's warm, welcoming embrace.
The bond forged in those turbulent years was unlike any other, a tapestry woven with threads of shared sorrow, unwavering loyalty, and a silent understanding that transcended words. Caleb, always the stoic protector, and you, the fiery, independent spirit, found a strange equilibrium within Gran's chaotic, loving home. He was your brother in all but blood, your confidante, your rock.
That was fourteen years ago. Now, standing outside his bathroom door in Skyhaven, in his own domain, the air thick with steam and anticipation, you feel a subtle shift in the familiar dynamic. The playful surprise you intend feels laced with something else, a tremor of nervous excitement that you can't quite explain.
Drawn by an irresistible curiosity, you move closer. The door is slightly ajar, a teasing invitation that your impulsive nature can't resist. A frown furrows your brow. It's unusual for Caleb to leave anything to chance, especially a door. The scent of his sandalwood soap mingles with the humid air, further fueling your burgeoning anticipation.
Against your better judgment, against the silent warnings echoing in your head, you push the door open. The hinges sigh in protest, a sound that seems deafening in the otherwise silent apartment.
The scene that unfolds before you steals the breath from your lungs. Time seems to slow, each detail etching itself onto your memory with vivid clarity.
There he is. Caleb.
Towering and undeniably male, he stands bathed in the diffused light of the futuristic bathroom. Water droplets cling to his skin, catching the light like scattered diamonds, tracing the sculpted lines of his back. The muscles ripple with restrained power, a testament to years of rigorous training and the demanding life he leads as a Fleetspace Colonel. His dark hair, usually impeccably styled, is damp and tousled, falling across his forehead in a manner that is both boyish and utterly captivating.
A simple white towel is slung low around his hips, offering a tantalizing glimpse of the lean, powerful physique beneath. But it's not the near-nudity that truly stops you in your tracks.
Around his neck, nestled against the tanned skin of his throat, gleams a familiar piece of silver. Your silver Chan dog tag. The one you gave him the day he left for DAA, a small token of your affection and unwavering belief in him. He’s always worn it, a constant reminder of your shared past, a silent promise of enduring connection. The sight of it there, against his skin, sends a jolt of unexpected warmth through your veins.
Caleb is standing in front of a large, impeccably clean mirror, his reflection staring back at him with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. He's doing something with his hands, something that makes your heart pound in your chest.
Your gaze drops to his hands, and your breath hitches in your throat. He’s holding a gun. A large, black, undeniably lethal weapon. He is wiping it meticulously with a white towel, his movements precise and practiced.
As a hunter yourself, you’re no stranger to firearms. They are tools, instruments of protecting the city from wanderers, as familiar to you as your own gun you wield with deadly accuracy. You've seen Caleb handle weapons countless times, witnessed firsthand his skill and expertise. But seeing him here, in the sterile intimacy of his bathroom, polishing a gun with such focused intensity, feels… different. Disturbing, even. This isn’t the Caleb you know. Or perhaps it is, just a side of him you haven't been privy to before.
Your eyes travel back up, drawn to his reflection in the mirror. And then, they lock with his.
His eyes, that arresting shade of violet that has always held a strange power over you, are fixed on yours. There's a flicker of surprise, a fleeting shadow of something unreadable, before they settle into an unnervingly calm, assessing gaze.
Shit.
The silence stretches, thick and heavy with unspoken questions and burgeoning awareness. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, paralyzed by the intensity of his stare. Your mind races, desperately trying to formulate an explanation, a plausible excuse for your blatant intrusion.
He lowers the gun, placing it carefully on the pristine countertop. The sound is almost deafening in the otherwise silent room. He doesn't break eye contact.
“Were you planning on joining me?” His voice is low, a rumble that vibrates through the air, sending a fresh wave of heat washing over your skin.
There's a teasing lilt to his words, a hint of amusement that barely masks the underlying tension.
You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. "I... I just wanted to surprise you." The words sound weak, unconvincing even to your own ears.
A slow smile spreads across his face, transforming his features, softening the harsh lines of his jaw. "You succeeded." He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Though I must admit, I prefer your surprises to be a little less… intrusive."
You flush, your cheeks burning under his scrutiny. "I didn't mean to… to intrude. I just heard the shower, and..." You trail off, unable to articulate the jumble of thoughts and emotions swirling within you.
"And?" he prompts, his voice a husky whisper.
You take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. "And I thought I'd catch you off guard."
He chuckles, a low, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "You always were a noisy person, weren't you?"
He takes another step, and now you're close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, to smell the lingering scent of sandalwood and something else, something uniquely Caleb.
"Only when necessary," you retort, your voice regaining a touch of its usual fire. "Besides, you leave the door open. What did you expect?"
"Perhaps," he says, his gaze dropping to your lips, "I wanted to be caught."
Your heart leaps into your throat. "Caught doing what, exactly?"
The air crackles with a strange energy, a mixture of tension and something undeniably… charged. Before you can fully process the situation, he uses his gravity manipulation – a casual display of power that still sends shivers down your spine – to slam the door shut behind you with his mind alone. The click of the lock echoes in the suddenly confined space, a definitive sound that seals you both inside.
You jump, startled by the abruptness of it all. The sound reverberates through the apartment, amplifying the awareness of your isolation. Your heart pounds a little faster in your chest, a mixture of apprehension and a thrill you can’t quite explain.
“Just making sure no one else gets any ‘surprising’ ideas.” His eyes twinkle mischievously, the light glinting off the moisture in his now-drying hair. But beneath the playful glint, there’s an unmistakable intensity, a smoldering ember that catches your breath.
He runs a hand through his damp hair, that simple gesture somehow drawing attention to the sculpted lines of his shoulders and arms, unconsciously giving you a full view of his muscular physique. The water droplets cling to his skin, emphasizing the lean strength that's usually hidden beneath his uniform.
"You know," he begins, his voice a low drawl that seems to caress the air.
You frown, pulling yourself back from the brink of distraction. "In your apartment? Really?" You scoff, trying to inject a note of normalcy into the increasingly unusual situation. "You're a colonel, you know better than to leave your own home vulnerable. You wouldn’t let just anyone in like that… And besides," you shrug, gesturing vaguely, "you added my fingerprint to your automatic door lock, remember?"
He raises an eyebrow, a slow, deliberate movement that accentuates the sharp angles of his face. A smirk, knowing and undeniably attractive, plays on his lips.
"True," he concedes, his voice laced with amusement. "But you never know when someone might try to pull a fast one, even with biometric security." He backs away from you, moving with the effortless grace you’ve come to expect, and leans against the counter, his arms crossed casually over his chest. The posture is relaxed, almost nonchalant, but you sense the underlying alertness, the coiled energy that’s always present. "Besides," he adds, his gaze locking with yours, "I didn't expect you to be the one sneaking up on me."
You scowl, your carefully constructed composure starting to fray at the edges. "I didn't… I just wanted to give you a surprise visit. I didn't know you'd be polishing your toys," you nod pointedly at his gun, lying disassembled on the nearby counter. The metal gleams under the lamplight, a stark reminder of the dangerous world he now inhabits since you got together again.
He chuckles, the sound a warm rumble in his chest, and uncrossing his arms to pick up his gun again. He examines a piece with careful precision. "You should see your face when you make that scowl," he teases, his smirk widening. "It's quite... endearing." He polishes the gun absentmindedly, his movements fluid and practiced. "So, no sneaking around to steal my food or snoop through my stuff this time?"
“Excuse you?” You exclaim, indignation flooding your voice. “I’m not… I just…”
He cuts you off, still chuckling. "Relax, I'm just messing with you," he says, his voice softening slightly. He sets the gun down with a soft clink and walks over to you, his movements fluid and predatory, like a panther stalking its prey. The space between you shrinks, the air growing thick with unspoken desires. "You're the only one I let get away with stealing my food, remember? It’s practically a tradition at this point."
“It’s not my fault that you always give me snacks…” you mumble, trying to deflect the intensity of his gaze. It's true, of course. He always has a stash of your favorite treats, and he never seems to mind when you help yourself.
"Because you always end up rummaging through my pantry anyway," he retorts, ruffling your hair playfully, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary. He steps back, creating a sliver of distance, and resumes polishing his gun, his expression turning thoughtful. "Speaking of snooping..."
You clear your throat, a nervous tic that betrays your guilt. Your eyes dart around the room, avoiding his piercing stare. “I didn’t do it again. I swear.”
He pauses in his task, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. The playful glint is gone, replaced by a sharp, assessing look. "You promise?" he asks, his tone laced with skepticism. He sets the gun down with a sigh and turns to face you fully, his arms crossed again, his body a wall between you and the door. "You swear on your favorite chocolate bar that you haven't been going through my stuff lately?"
You look at the bathroom ceiling, as if searching for answers in the mundane. "Oh, would you look at that? There’s some dust." You point vaguely upwards, hoping to distract and deflect.
The attempt is weak, even you know it. The dust is barely visible, and the pathetic maneuver only serves to confirm his suspicions. You’re caught, and you know it. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the telltale sign of your guilt.
He follows your gaze, his expression unreadable. "You're not distracting me that easily," he says, his voice low and even, a subtle rumble that vibrates through the humid air of the bathroom. It’s a statement, but also a dare. A challenge laid bare in the space between you.
He moves with a quiet grace that belies his muscular build, each step deliberate and measured. The tiles are cool beneath his bare feet as he closes the distance between you. “Look at me,” he commands, the request laced with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken.
You back away, a primal instinct taking over as you try to create distance, a buffer between his raw masculinity and the sudden vulnerability you feel. The cool, smooth surface of the door presses against your spine, the only barrier between you and escape. But escape from what, exactly? The question hangs in the air, thick and unspoken.
He stops in his tracks, respecting the boundary you've unconsciously set. A hint of amusement dances in his eyes, a flicker of knowing that sends a shiver down your spine. "Afraid I'll catch you in a lie?" he asks, his voice a soft challenge, a velvet-wrapped threat.
The air crackles with unspoken tension. He takes another step, closing the gap, his body almost pressing against yours. You’re trapped, caught between the solid, unyielding door and the magnetic pull of his presence.
Your throat tightens, and you swallow hard, the sound amplified in the confined space. Your gaze involuntarily drops, snagged by the sight of his damp chest, the water droplets clinging to the sculpted planes of his abs like tiny, glittering jewels. He’s fresh from the shower, his skin gleaming, radiating a heat that seems to seep into your own.
You try to look away, but it’s like staring at the sun – blinding, yet impossible to resist.
He notices your wandering gaze, the subtle widening of your eyes, the almost imperceptible intake of breath. A slow, knowing smirk curls his lips, a predator recognizing its prey. His voice drops to a low purr, a sound that resonates deep within you. "See something you like?" he asks, the words laced with playful arrogance.
His hand comes up, not to touch, but to stake his claim on the space around you, resting on the door beside your head, caging you in with the casual ease of someone who knows his power. His other hand reaches out, his touch feather-light as he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, to acknowledge the desire that’s simmering beneath the surface.
“Caleb…” you warn, the word a breathless whisper, a plea for him to stop, even though a part of you doesn’t want him to.
"Mhm?" He hums, a sound of pure amusement that vibrates against your skin. His finger remains tilted on your chin, holding you captive, his lips only inches away from yours. The air between you crackles with unspoken promises. His voice drops to a whisper, a seductive murmur that sends shivers down your spine. "You're the one who showed up unannounced in my shower..." He intentionally leans forward just a tiny bit more, testing your boundaries, pushing you to the edge.
You can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, smell the clean, fresh scent of soap mingled with his intoxicating natural musk.
Panic flares, a desperate need to break free from the intoxicating spell he’s weaving. You turn your head, the movement abrupt and jerky, right as his lips brush your cheek. It’s a near miss, a tantalizing tease that leaves you breathless and yearning.
He pulls back slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he notices your abrupt movement. "Missed by inches," he murmurs, his breath tickling your cheek, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps across your skin.
He leans away from the door, giving you some space, a sliver of freedom, but keeping his proximity close enough that his damp skin still radiates warmth, a constant reminder of the intimacy you just shared.
You turn to look at him, your heart pounding against your ribs, trying to regain some semblance of control.
“What are you doing?” you ask, the question barely audible, lost in the chaotic rhythm of your own breathing.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" He counters, his eyes searching yours with a mix of curiosity and something else, something that makes your stomach flip. He raises his hand again, this time tracing the curve of your jaw with his thumb, a slow, deliberate caress that ignites a fire within you. "I'm just making sure you're not going to keep avoiding eye contact with me." The statement is a challenge, an invitation to engage, to stop hiding behind your carefully constructed walls.
You blush, the heat rising in your cheeks, betraying your carefully constructed composure. “I’m not…avoiding you…and…can you unlock the door so I can get out?” you stammer, the words tumbling out in a rush, a desperate attempt to regain control of the situation.
He raises an eyebrow, a smirk still playing on his lips, enjoying your flustered state.
"Afraid of being alone with me?" he asks, the question laced with teasing mockery. But then, he relents, stepping aside and unlocking the door. "Here you go." He gestures towards the open door, a clear path to freedom, but he doesn't move away from it completely, keeping his body angled towards you, a silent promise of more.
You raise an eyebrow, mirroring his earlier expression, a spark of defiance flickering in your eyes. “That easy? I thought I will have to borrow your gun to shoot the lock.” The words are meant to be flippant, a way to deflect the intensity of the moment, but there’s also a grain of truth in them.
A laugh escapes him as he hears your joke, a deep, genuine sound that washes over you, easing the tension in your muscles. A real smile spreads across his face, transforming his features, making him look younger, more approachable. "You'd have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands," he says, still chuckling softly, the sound warm and intimate in the small space.
His gaze flickers to your lips briefly, a fleeting moment of undeniable desire, before returning to your eyes, his smile lingering, a silent invitation.
This time you smirk, a slow, confident curve of your lips. “In love with it too much?” you challenge, pushing his buttons, daring him to reveal more.
"Damn right," he grins, his shoulders relaxing, the tension finally easing from his body. He unconsciously adjusts the towel lower on his hips, unknowingly giving you a better view of his sculpted abs, the movement casual, yet undeniably provocative. "You almost had me there with the shooting the lock thing." He chuckles again, the sound warm and inviting. If you were desperate enough to, you would probably do it but he knew you were bluffing this time.
Before he can predict your move, you lunge forward, a reckless impulse taking over. You run to take his gun, a daring act of defiance.
But before you can even grasp the gun, Caleb swiftly lunges forward with surprising speed, his wet feet slipping slightly on the bathroom mat. He regains his balance with effortless grace, using his evol to steady himself.
He grabs your wrist just as your fingers brush against the cool metal of the gun, his grip firm but not painful. "Uh-uh," he chastises playfully, his voice a low rumble, a warning and an invitation all in one.
“I touched it,” you smirk, a triumphant glint in your eyes.
"You barely grazed it," He retorts, pulling his hand back slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. He watches your smirk, your unknowingly tempting body language, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath.
God, you’re killing him. He swallows hard, struggling to maintain control. "You know stealing's wrong, right?" He adds teasingly, the words a lighthearted attempt to break the tension, to mask the desire that's raging within him.
You glance at his gun on the counter beneath the white towel, the cold steel a stark contrast to the domesticity of the setting. Your fingers twitch, yearning to close around the familiar weight, to reclaim a sense of control in this tense dance you've been locked in. You try to reach it again, stretching but he anticipates your move with a speed that borders on preternatural. He shifts his weight, a subtle adjustment that places his body squarely between you and the gun.
"Nice try," he chuckles, the sound a low rumble that vibrates through the air. His eyes, usually guarded and watchful, are sparkling with amusement, a playful glint dancing in their depths. But beneath the surface, you catch a glimpse of something more intense, a smoldering heat that sends a shiver down your spine.
He keeps your wrist gently but firmly in his grasp, his fingers warm against your skin, preventing any further attempts. His touch is light, almost teasing, but the underlying strength is palpable. "You really want that thing?" he asks, his voice a husky whisper that seems to wrap around you.
You shrug, feigning indifference, though your heart is hammering against your ribs. "You're so protective of it. Might as well be your girlfriend." The words are laced with sarcasm, a desperate attempt to mask the turmoil swirling within you.
His lips twitch with suppressed laughter, the corners of his mouth lifting in a tantalizing curve. "Jealous?" he teases softly, his thumb unconsciously rubbing a slow circle against your wrist. The simple gesture sends a jolt of electricity through your veins, making it difficult to breathe. "Here," he says, surprising you by releasing your wrist and placing the gun within your easy reach.
"See if you can steal it." He challenges, his eyes dropping to your lips briefly, a fleeting moment that feels like a brand against your skin.
Your eyes glint with challenge, a spark igniting within you. It's not just about the gun; it's about the game, the chase, the intoxicating pull that exists between the two of you. "No cheating," you say, your voice low and husky, mirroring his own. "We can't use our evols."
"Deal," he whispers, a competitive edge creeping into his voice. He purposefully places the gun just slightly out of immediate reach, as if daring you to try. Then, he steps back, giving you space, ready for your move. His posture is relaxed, almost nonchalant, but his eyes are laser-focused on you, tracking every movement, every breath. They spark with excitement, the thrill of competition mixed with something else, something far more dangerous, that's becoming harder and harder to ignore.
With a swiftness that belies your earlier feigned indifference, you sidestep him, your body a blur of motion. You feint to the left, drawing his attention, then pivot sharply to the right, using the momentum to deliver a swift and precise kick with your elbow, sending the gun spinning into the air. You lunge forward, reaching out, your fingers closing around the cold, hard steel just as it begins to fall.
"-Shit," he curses under his breath, impressed despite himself. He moves to block your escape route, reacting purely on instinct, but in his haste, he ends up accidentally catching your waist in his arms.
The air rushes from your lungs as his hands wrap around you, pulling you against him. For a moment, time seems to stand still.
You're practically chest to chest, his rough breathing audible in your ear, mingling with your own ragged gasps. His heat radiates through your clothes, a tangible force that threatens to melt away your resolve. "You fucking cheated," he accuses, his voice a low growl against your skin.
“How? I said, no evols. Just our hands.” You fight to keep your voice steady, to project an air of nonchalance that you certainly don't feel.
"...Your foot," he mutters, his gaze flicking down to your feet before returning to your eyes, his expression a mixture of frustration and grudging admiration. His hands remain wrapped around your waist, his thumbs brushing against the curve of your hips. The contact is innocent enough, but the sensation is anything but.
He swallows hard, his mind suddenly filled with inappropriate images, a dangerous dream landscape of him kissing you like he always wanted to and cross that line for once. "Give it back," he demands, his voice strained, barely a whisper.
You smirk, a slow, deliberate curve of your lips that you know drives him crazy with annoyance and amusement. You reach behind you, intending to stash the gun out of reach, but of course, he anticipates your move. He uses his gravity evol, the familiar force field shimmering almost invisibly around you both.
As you try to place the gun behind you, Caleb's gravity evol kicks in, the subtle pressure intensifying, making it impossible for you to move the gun away from his reach. You're caught in his invisible web, your movements restricted, your will subtly bent to his. He leans in slightly, his breath warm against your temple, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your very core.
"Not so fast," he murmurs, the words a promise and a threat all rolled into one. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you a fraction closer, eliminating the already minuscule space between you.
“Uh…not fair,” you grit your teeth, the words forced out as you struggle against his evol, your muscles straining against the invisible force. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension coiled tight within him, mirroring the tension that's gripping you.
"All's fair in love and war," he murmurs, his face inches from yours. His eyes, dark and intense, flick down to your lips again, lingering there for a moment too long. The air crackles with unspoken desires, with the weight of years of suppressed longing. He reaches around you slowly, deliberately, his chest pressing against your back as he plucks the gun effortlessly from your hand with his other.
The contact sends a jolt of electricity through your body, igniting a fire that threatens to consume you both.
He chuckles, the sound a low, throaty rumble that sends shivers down your spine, the gun now back in his possession, safely out of your reach. "You touched it because you cheated with your foot," he argues, his arms still wrapped possessively around your waist, effectively trapping you against him.
He pulls you a little closer, as if testing the limits, his gravity evol making it increasingly difficult for you to step away, to create any semblance of distance.
“Caleb…stop it,” you hiss, desperately trying to regain control of the situation, of yourself. The proximity is intoxicating, too close, too dangerous.
"Stop what?" he asks innocently, even though his grip on your waist tightens slightly and his breath is warm against your ear, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps across your skin. He knows exactly what he's doing, and the smirk playing on his lips gives him away. "I'm just holding you so you don't try to steal my gun again." The lie hangs in the air between you, a fragile shield against the storm of emotions threatening to erupt.
You glare, fighting to maintain eye contact, but your gaze is drawn, almost against your will, to the silver dog tag chain nestled between his pecs, rising and falling with each breath. Your gift for him. A silent promise of safe return.
He feels your stare silver necklace glinting under the light, a tangible reminder of your connection. His mind wanders back to the day you gave it to him when he left for DAA, engraved with a little red apple and the words "When you come back". A lump forms in his throat, a wave of tenderness washing over him. His hands on your waist flex unconsciously, pulling you closer, as if wanting to erase the distance that has always separated you.
His eyes soften as he glances down at the dog tags, remembering the care and emotion behind your gift. The playful smirk fades from his lips as he realizes how close you are, your bodies almost melding together in the confined space.
He clears his throat nervously, the sound amplified by the sudden shift in atmosphere. "You giving me that glare because you lost, or..."
"I will get that gun," you hiss, your voice a low, determined rumble. The air crackles with your competitive spirit, a challenge laid bare.
A low laugh escapes him, his chest vibrating against your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Is that so?" He challenges softly, his grip on your waist loosening slightly, but not enough for you to escape easily. His eyes spark with a mix of amusement and something more intense, a hunger that makes your breath hitch in your throat. "You want it that bad? Come and get it."
"Caleb…I swear…" you start, a warning laced with a hint of exasperation. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, a dangerous warmth that threatens to melt your resolve.
"You swear what?" His lips quirk up in a teasing smirk as he senses your growing frustration. With deliberate slowness, he slips the gun behind his back, keeping it just out of your reach, a silent promise of the game to come. "You're welcome to try," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, sending another wave of shivers through you.
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to resonate with his own evol, the unique energy that surrounds him, a key to unlocking his defenses. The air hums with anticipation.
"Smart," he whispers approvingly, feeling your evol activate, a tangible connection forming between you. Normally, this would be a fair competition, a test of skill and power. But with his arms still wrapped around your waist, trapping you against him, he's enjoying this too much to let you win easily. Instead of resisting your gravity pull, he uses it to his advantage, subtly shifting his weight, drawing you even closer. "You feel that?"
"Just a bit," you grit your teeth, focusing on the task at hand. "I will have it." The heat of his body is a distraction, a tantalizing temptation that wars with your determination.
He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your neck, making the hairs stand on end.
"Is that a promise?" he teases, his grip on you tightening just enough to make it clear he's not going to let you have the gun easily.
He shifts slightly, using his own evol against you, pulling you even closer until you can feel the hard planes of his chest against your back.
"Caleb!" you exclaim, a mixture of annoyance and something akin to pleasure coloring your tone. You can feel your resolve crumbling under the weight of his nearness.
"Too slow," He laughs, feeling your gravity push against him half-heartedly. He realizes you're trying not to push too hard, afraid of hurting him. His smirk widens, a predatory gleam entering his eyes. "You're not trying hard enough," He taunts, "Here, I'll make it easier."
You bite back a retort, your mind racing, searching for a way to break free from his intoxicating hold.
He shifts his body slightly, giving you a small opening, a sliver of hope in your current predicament. But instead of making it easy for you to grab the gun, he uses the opportunity to lean in even closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear, his breath ghosting over your skin. "Come on," he whispers, his voice low and challenging, husky with desire. "Show me what you've got."
You shiver, despite yourself, and swallow hard. The nearness of him is intoxicating, a potent cocktail of danger and desire. You decide to move, channeling all your energy into a sudden burst of momentum.
"There," He whispers softly as you move, finally putting some real effort into your evol. His smirk widens, a glint of admiration in his eyes. You're fast, he'll give you that.
He sees an opening at your sudden move and takes it, his reflexes honed from years of training. He whirls around, mirroring your resonance pull, creating a vortex of energy between you.
"Hey!" The gun gets floated in the air above your head, spinning gently in the space between you. Since you were short, you couldn’t get it, your fingers grasping at empty air.
"Gotcha," he laughs triumphantly, watching the gun float effortlessly towards his hand from above. He catches it with ease, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He looks down at you, still floating about a foot off the ground, your arms stretching up to try and reach the gun, your brow furrowed in frustration.
"Caleb! It will not kill you if you give it to me," you plead, your voice tinged with a playful desperation.
He laughs heartily, his chest shaking with mirth. "And miss out on this?" He asks, gesturing to your futile struggle, his eyes sparkling with delight. "No way." He holds the gun just out of your reach, his arm extended high above you, a tantalizing prize. "Say please."
You pull a deep breath, steeling your resolve. You decide to use your other card, the one that always works, the one that exploits his soft spot. He always falls for that. Your eyes get sad, a well-practiced expression of vulnerability, and you pout, your lower lip trembling slightly. "You don't love me anymore," you say, your voice barely a whisper, laced with mock sorrow.
"Damn it," He mutters softly, his expression instantaneously softening, the playful gleam replaced with a flicker of guilt. He lowers the gun slightly, his eyes searching your face, his thumb caressing the cool metal. "You know that's not true," He says softly, his voice losing its competitive edge, replaced with a tender warmth. "Here," He lifts his chin towards the gun, floating it gently within your reach, surrendering to your carefully constructed emotional trap.
You lunge at it, your fingers wrapping tightly around the cool steel.
"Too easy," He laughs, a hint of exasperation in his voice, as you snatch the gun out of the air. He watches your serious expression, your pout gone, replaced with determined eyes, a triumphant glint shining in their depths.
He swallows tightly, mesmerized by your transformation. "You cheated," He accuses softly, his competitive nature re-igniting slightly. "Using those puppy eyes."
You smirk, a mischievous glint in your eyes, as you look at the big black weapon in your hand, savoring your victory.
He shakes his head in amused disbelief, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "I fall for that every time," he murmurs, watching you proudly display your prize, his gaze lingering on your face, admiring your cunning and determination. Caleb spreads his hands in mock surrender, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Congrats, you win this round."
You grin, feeling a surge of satisfaction course through you. "Yes."
The playful glint in Caleb's eyes is disarming, even as he playfully mocks, "Don't get too cocky," his voice a low rumble that vibrates against your skin. He takes a step back, a gentlemanly concession of space, yet the air crackles with unresolved tension. "You know I won't go easy on you next time." A pause hangs in the air, the silence amplifying the intimacy of the moment. His expression softens, a flicker of something deeper replacing the teasing. "You know what?"
"Mmm?" you hum, the sound a question and an invitation.
"You've gotten really good," Caleb says, the admiration in his voice a stark contrast to his earlier jesting. It’s an honest, unguarded compliment, a moment of genuine respect that makes your heart flutter. "I swear, in a few years, you'll probably be better than me." He chuckles softly, shaking his head as if marveling at the impossible. "Lucky for me, I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve."
A genuine smile blossoms across your face, warming your cheeks. "Do you think so?" you ask, the words barely a whisper, laced with a mixture of disbelief and hope. You know you were pretty good hunter but be better than him who is taller and stronger than you? That was a big compliment.
"Duh," he grins widely, that competitive spark reigniting in his eyes. He loves that you're humble, your lack of ego only fueling his desire to push you, to see how far you can go. "You're like a sponge. You learn something once, you got it. I swear, you're scary good." He laughs softly, a sound that always manages to send shivers down your spine. "Here," he says suddenly, reaching into a nearby basket.
Without warning, he throws a small dagger in your direction.
Years of training kick in, instinct taking over. You react without thinking, your hand shooting out, effortlessly catching the dagger mid-air. Simultaneously, you set the gun you had been holding down on the counter.
He whistles appreciatively, his brows raised in genuine surprise. "Damn, you're fast today." The playful teasing returns, but there's an undercurrent of something more, a respect for your skill that he can't quite hide. He moves closer, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. His voice drops lower, becoming a husky murmur that sends a shiver snaking down your spine. "And you caught it perfectly." He reaches out to take the dagger, his fingers purposefully brushing against yours in the handoff, a deliberate act of provocation.
A wave of awareness washes over you. You instinctively hide the dagger behind your back, the cool metal a reassuring weight in your hand. It's then that you realize you're backed against the bathroom counter, the cool tile a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Caleb.
He notices your realization, the triumphant smirk that spreads across his face a clear indication that he's exactly where he wants to be.
He takes another step closer, effectively trapping you. His voice drops to a teasing whisper, a low rumble that seems to vibrate through your very bones. "Cornered already?" He leans in slightly, his eyes never leaving yours, a captivating gaze that holds you captive. "You know, for someone who just won a gun off me, you seem pretty vulnerable right now."
"You always do this," you scoff, the word laced with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "Play and tease me."
"And you always fall for it," he retorts, his face just inches from yours. You can feel his warm breath on your skin, the scent of him filling your senses. "It's cute." He reaches behind you, his body pressing against yours, a blatant act of intimacy designed to fluster you. His fingers brush against your back as he reaches for the knife you're holding, the deliberate contact sending a jolt of electricity through you.
You tighten your grip on the dagger, a stubborn refusal to relinquish control. The game is on, and you're not about to back down.
He feels you tightening your grip, a smug smile tugging at his lips. He loves this, the push and pull, the battle of wills that always seems to erupt between you. "Let go of the knife," he whispers, his eyes locked in the knife reflected in the mirror behind you. He can feel your knuckles turning white as you refuse to loosen your grip. "Last chance."
"And if I say no?" you breathe, the words barely audible, laced with a mixture of defiance and apprehension. You can't stop this cat and mouse play, this dangerous dance that always leaves you breathless and wanting more.
He chuckles darkly, a low, predatory sound that sends shivers down your spine. His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, "Then I'll have to take it from you." His free hand comes up to rest on the counter beside your hips, caging you in, making it impossible to escape. "And trust me, you won't like how I do it."
You shiver involuntarily, a reaction to his words and the heat radiating from his body. Leaning back, his bare chest presses against yours, the solid muscle almost crushing you.
He feels your shiver, his smile widening mischievously. He straightens his arms, locking them beside your hips and pushing you further against the counter, intensifying the feeling of being trapped. "Last warning," he whispers, his voice low and commanding, sending a thrill of fear and excitement through you. "Open your hand."
"No…" you whisper, the single word a testament to your stubbornness.
He hears the defiance in your whisper, a surge of frustration and determination rising within him. Without another word, he uses his arm to press your hand against the counter, the knife still gripped tightly in your fist. With his other hand, he grabs your wrist, applying firm pressure. "Open. Your. Hand."
"You could easily cheat you know? Why are you adamant to take it directly from my hand?" you ask, your voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and defiance.
"Because I want to see how far you'll push me," he admits, his voice gruff, the honesty unexpected. He applies more pressure to your wrist, his other arm still pressing your hand flat against the counter. "Now open your damn hand before I break your wrist to get the knife out."
You gasp, the threat surprisingly intense.
Seeing your gasp, Caleb pauses, realizing the intensity in his words. He is a colonel in the military, used to commanding, never meaning to threaten you. His grip loosens slightly, but he doesn't release you entirely from the cage of his arms. A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans in closer, his voice lowering to a teasing murmur. "Gotcha."
"Did you just fucking threaten me?" you hiss, the anger bubbling to the surface.
He hears the anger in your hiss and feels a strange mix of amusement and unease. He leans in even closer, his lips barely an inch from yours. "Maybe," he whispers back, a challenge clear in his voice. "What are you gonna do about it?"
You glare, trying to mask the effect he has on you.
He holds your glare, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he tries to suppress a smile. He can feel the tension radiating off you, making him enjoy this power dynamic a little too much. He flexes his arm, pressing your hand flatter against the counter. "Last chance,"
"Don't use your Colonel voice on me!" you snap, the outburst a testament to his control over you.
He feels a jolt at your snap, the Colonel voice slipping out automatically. He blinks, breaking eye contact for a moment, the memory of his past life a sharp reminder of the man he used to be. When he looks back at you, his expression is softer, almost apologetic. "Fuck, I'm sorry," he murmurs, his grip on your wrist loosening completely, his regret palpable.
You breathe heavily, trying to regain your composure.
He sees the heavy breathing, taking it as a sign that he's getting to you, that the game is still in play. He decides to push his luck, leaning in closer until his forehead rests against yours. "Open your hand," he commands, his voice dropping lower, taking on that authoritative tone again. "Or I'll…"
"What? Restrain me?" you challenge, your voice laced with a mixture of fear and excitement.
"Mm, something like that," he murmurs, his eyes locked with yours. He can feel his hands itching to grab your arm and pin it behind your back, to take control completely. "You leave me no choice but to use force," he whispers, his fingers slowly inching back towards your wrist, as if testing the waters.
"Caleb…" you breathe, the word a warning and a plea.
"Too late," he whispers, his hands moving quickly. He wraps his arm around your wrist and pulls it behind your back, trapping it between your shoulder blades. He steps closer, caging you against the counter with his body, making escape impossible. "Open your hand," he orders, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.
"You goober!" you exclaim, the childish insult a desperate attempt to break the tension.
He chuckles at your insult, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Keep talking back and see what happens," he murmurs, his free hand coming up to rest on the counter beside your other arm, effectively trapping you. "One more chance to open your hand before things get... interesting."
“Interesting?” you breathe, the word catching in your throat, a strange heat blooming in your chest. It's a question, but also a confession. Suddenly, this confrontation, this tense standoff, feels…different. You don’t know why you're feeling this way. The adrenaline, maybe? Or the way his eyes are locked on yours, intense and unwavering. Whatever it is, it's undeniably a turn-on.
He notices the subtle shift in your breathing, the almost imperceptible tremor in your hands. He sees the way your eyes dilate, dark pools reflecting the fire that's beginning to flicker within you. He realizes that you’re not just angry or defiant anymore.
A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face, a predatory curve that sends a shiver down your spine. He leans in even closer, the heat of his body radiating against yours, his lips almost brushing against your ear.
"Are you enjoying this?" he murmurs, the question a low, seductive rumble.
“No…” you hiss, the denial weak, unconvincing even to your own ears. The fight seems to have drained from you, replaced by a strange, unsettling vulnerability.
He can hear the tremor in your voice, the subtle waver that betrays your true feelings. He feels the way your body is pressing against the cool countertop, trapped between his unyielding arms. He takes advantage of this newfound weakness, his body shifting slightly, a calculated maneuver that tightens his hold.
His arm around your wrist pulls your arm up higher between your shoulder blades, forcing you to arch your back, accentuating the curve of your breasts against your shirt. The position is undeniably compromising, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. "Last chance," he breathes, the words a promise and a threat.
“Last chance…” you mock, mimicking his deep voice with a forced bravado that doesn't quite reach your eyes. You glare at him, attempting to recapture the anger that fueled you just moments ago. But the heat in his gaze melts your resolve, leaving you feeling exposed and strangely thrilled.
He smirks at your mimicry, enjoying the playful banter, the dangerous game you’re both playing. "You're playing a dangerous game," he murmurs, his voice a silken caress that belies the steel beneath. His hand on the counter, the one not holding your wrist captive, slides closer to yours, inching its way toward your trembling fingers. His thumb brushes against the back of your hand, a light, fleeting touch that’s almost teasing, sending sparks of electricity through your veins. "I could make you open it," he says, the words hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.
“Guess what? With your evol?” you retort, trying to sound confident, but your voice cracks slightly, betraying your inner turmoil.It was a desperate attempt to regain control, to steer the conversation back to safer territory.
"Exactly," he whispers back, his breath warm against your skin. His thumb traces a small circle on the back of your hand, a deliberate, hypnotic motion that draws your attention, stealing your focus. Your hand twitches slightly at the sudden sensation, giving away your vulnerability, the way his touch affects you. He watches your reaction closely, savoring the moment, drawing power from your response. "Then again, I might use something other than my evol..." he adds, the words laced with a suggestive promise that makes your heart leap in your chest.
You gasp, the sound escaping your lips before you can stop it, and your eyes widen in surprise, searching his. Fear and anticipation war within you, a confusing mix of emotions that threatens to overwhelm you.
"What do you mean?" you ask, the question a breathless whisper, barely audible above the pounding of your heart.
His expression turns intense, a dark, smoldering gaze that holds you captive. It’s dangerous, predatory, and utterly thrilling.
He leans in closer, invading your personal space, until his lips are nearly touching yours, the heat of his breath a tangible presence against your skin. His voice drops to a husky whisper, a seductive murmur that sends shivers down your spine. "You really want to know?" he asks, intentionally blowing a small, warm breath across your lips, teasing you, testing your limits. "I could just..."
Your breath hitches in your throat, your lungs seizing as your body betrays you. The world around you seems to fade away, the sounds of the bathroom blurring into a distant hum. All that exists is him, the intoxicating scent of his skin, the heat of his gaze, the promise of something forbidden.
Your eyelashes flutter shut, surrendering to the moment, inviting him in.
He waits for a moment, relishing in the effect he's having on you, the power he holds over you. He feels the tremor that runs through your body, the rapid pulse at your throat. He knows he's won.
Then, without warning, he closes the distance between you, his lips claiming yours in a searing, electrifying kiss. His hand, the one that was tormenting your hand only moments ago, moves to tangle in your hair, gripping the strands possessively, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, demanding a response.
A whimper escapes your lips, a small, involuntary sound of surrender, as your fingers loosen their grip on the knife. The metal clatters against the tile floor, the sound echoing in the sudden silence, a symbol of your defeat.
He hears the knife fall, the sound like a starting gun, and a satisfied growl rumbles in his chest, a primal sound of victory. The kiss intensifies, his tongue sliding against yours, tasting, exploring, staking his claim.
He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin, igniting a firestorm of sensation. His arm around your wrist tightens possessively, a steel band that keeps you trapped, at his mercy.
“Caleb…” you gasp, your voice breathy and weak, barely a whisper. The sound of his name on your lips feels like a betrayal, a confession of your desire.
"Shh," he murmurs against your neck, his teeth gently sinking into the flesh, a playful bite that sends shivers down your spine. His other hand slides down from the counter, around your hip, and grips your bottom possessively, pulling you closer, molding your body against his. "No more talking," he commands softly, the words a velvet promise laced with steel, before starting to lift you onto the counter, claiming you.
Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic drumbeat that threatens to drown out all other sounds. You can feel his strength as he lifts you, the way his muscles flex beneath his skin. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, clinging to him for support, surrendering to the moment.
He can feel your heart racing against his chest, mirroring his own frantic rhythm, as he lifts you onto the counter, stepping between your legs to keep you trapped, a willing prisoner in his embrace. His hands roam your body, touching and exploring in a way he's never allowed himself to before, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you both. He presses close, his growing erection evident against your core through the thin barrier of the towel, a tangible reminder of his desire.
“Caleb…” you whisper again, his name a plea, a prayer, a promise of what's to come.
He silences you with another kiss, this one more demanding and dominant than the last, a raw expression of his hunger. His tongue pushes into your mouth, claiming you completely, possessing you with every touch. His hands continue to roam, exploring the curves of your body, igniting a fire with every caress.
One hand slides up to cup your breast, squeezing gently through your shirt, teasing the sensitive nipple, while the other grips your thigh, pulling you even closer, erasing the remaining space between you, preparing you for the storm that's about to break.
You allow yourself to moan, the sweet, vulnerable sound catapulting straight to his core. You feel the immediate result of your surrender as his erection presses harder against your thigh. Instinct takes over, and you find yourself pulling him closer by the nape of his neck, your fingers tangling in the short hairs at his hairline. He's so tall, you have to lift your hips off the counter, practically bending him in half to maintain the fervent connection of your lips.
He groans into the kiss, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates against your own mouth as you pull him closer, bending him down to accommodate your smaller stature. The altered angle presses his hardness even more firmly against your center, igniting a fresh wave of heat that makes you moan again, a low, primal sound escaping your lips.
His hand, which had been tentatively resting on your waist, slides upwards, seeking the bare skin beneath your shirt. He pushes the fabric upwards, urgency lacing his touch, as his other hand squeezes your thigh, almost desperately.
You pant, your breath coming in ragged gasps, too overwhelmed by this sudden and dramatic turn of events to form a coherent thought. The world has narrowed down to the feel of his mouth on yours, the hard press of his body against yours, and the frantic rhythm of your accelerated heartbeats.
He breaks the kiss briefly, reluctantly, to trail his lips down the sensitive curve of your neck. He nuzzles his face between your breasts, his breath hot and damp against your skin, as he tries to push your shirt up further.
"Lift your arms," he growls, the command rough and edged with a desperate, unsatisfied desire. He needs to see you, touch you more, now. The burning need is consuming him.
You gulp, your throat suddenly dry, and obediently lift your arms, your movements slightly jerky and uncoordinated.
In one swift, decisive motion, he pulls your shirt over your head, casting it carelessly to the side. You stand exposed in just your bra, the cool air raising goosebumps on your skin, but the chill is quickly replaced by a searing heat as his eyes darken with undisguised desire as he looks you over. His gaze lingers on the curve of your breasts, the swell of your hips, before finally returning to meet your eyes. His hands, as if drawn by an invisible force, immediately go to your waist, his thumbs tracing the delicate line of your hip bones.
"Fuck," he mutters, the word a raw, reverent sound, as he leans down to place open-mouthed kisses between your breasts, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin.
You moan again, a longer, more drawn-out sound this time, as you arch your back instinctively, offering him more. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging to him as if he's the only thing anchoring you to reality.
"What's happening?" you manage to gasp out, the question barely audible.
"Shut up," he snaps, but there's no real heat or anger behind the words. He's too far gone, too lost in the feeling of your body against his lips, the taste of your skin, the intoxicating scent of you filling his senses.
His fingers, emboldened by his growing passion, hook into the bottom of your bra, and with surprising ease, he unhooks it. He pushes the material aside, revealing your bare breasts to his hungry gaze. He pauses for a moment, just to admire the sight, before his hands cup your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples.
“Caleb…please…” you say, your voice thick with a mixture of arousal and confusion. You reach up, your hands trembling slightly, and cup his face, your thumbs tracing the sharp angles of his cheekbones.
Caleb pauses, his intense gaze softening as you cup his face. He leans into your touch, a visible shudder running through him as he closes his eyes for a brief moment, savoring the feeling of your skin against his. "Please what?" he asks, his voice low and rough, the question laced with a raw vulnerability.
One hand comes up to cover yours on his cheek, his fingers interlacing with yours as he holds your hand against his skin, while the other gently squeezes your bare breast, thumbing the nipple in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
“Why are we…” you trail off, unable to articulate the jumble of thoughts and feelings swirling within you.
"Because," he answers simply, his voice husky with desire, leaning down to take one of your breasts into his mouth. He suckles gently at first, teasing and tantalizing, before his grip tightens and he begins to suckle more firmly, drawing a sharp intake of breath from you. His hand, the one not holding yours, slides down your side to your waistband, his fingers fumbling with the button of your jeans. "We're always supposed to," he murmurs around your breast, the words muffled but clear, his fingers finally succeeding in unbuttoning your jeans.
“Why?” you ask again, the question a desperate plea for understanding.
He looks up at you, his eyes intense and unwavering, as he unbuttons your jeans, his fingers hooking into the waistband.
"Because we're always supposed to be more than friends," he explains, his voice muffled against your breast. "Because every time I see you laughing with someone else, I get jealous. Because every time someone looks at you for too long, I want to punch them."
You swallow hard, your throat tightening with emotion. “That's why…you said you will never get a girlfriend?”
He nods against your chest, the movement small and hesitant, before standing up straight and pulling the rest of your clothes off, leaving you sitting bare before him. "I never wanted a girlfriend," he admits, his voice raw and honest, his eyes fixed on yours. "I never wanted anyone but you."
Your heart skips a beat, a wild, erratic rhythm taking over your chest. “Since when…? When we met or…”
He swallows hard, his eyes flickering down your body, lingering on the curve of your breasts and the swell of your hips, before meeting your gaze again. "Since we were kids," he says softly, the words barely audible above the frantic pounding of your heart.
He steps closer, closing the remaining distance between you, until he's standing between your legs. "Remember when we used to play hide and seek?" he asks, his fingers hooking around your thighs, his touch sending shivers up your spine.
You nod, a small, involuntary movement. “You always somehow found me.”
"Because I always looked for you," he explains, his thumbs rubbing the inside of your thighs, his gaze unwavering.
"Remember when you scraped your knee on that field trip, and I carried you home?" he asks softly, his eyes searching yours, as if looking for confirmation, or perhaps forgiveness. When you nod again, remembering the incident vividly, he continues, "Remember I told I will always be by your side?”
You nod again, feeling a lump forming in your throat. The memory is sharp and clear, the feeling of his arms around you, the concern etched on his face, as real now as it was then.
Caleb leans in closer, his voice dropping to almost a whisper as he continues, "That wasn't just something friends say. I meant it. Every promise, every joke shared, every bump and bruise I tended to - it was all me saying 'I'm in love with you' without actually saying it."
Your heart actually swells, filling your chest until it feels like it might burst. You struggle to breathe, the air caught in your throat, as the weight of his words settles upon you. This is it. This is the culmination of years of unspoken feelings, of hidden glances and secret longings.
He watched, his gaze intense and unwavering, as a kaleidoscope of emotions played across your face – surprise, disbelief, a hesitant joy that threatened to bloom into something more. He saw the question in your eyes, the silent plea for reassurance, and it fueled the courage that had been simmering within him for what felt like an eternity.
His own heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the years of longing he had so carefully concealed. Each stolen glance, each casual touch, each shared laugh had been etched onto his soul, fueling a secret fire that now threatened to consume him. He had built walls around his heart, fortifying it against the vulnerability of love, but you, with your infectious laughter and unwavering spirit, had chipped away at those defenses, brick by agonizing brick.
Slowly, deliberately, he reached for you, his hands trembling slightly as they spanned your waist. The touch was electric, a jolt that sent shivers down your spine and stole the breath from your lungs. With a strength born of years of suppressed desire, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The heat of your body pressed against him was intoxicating, a promise of connection that he could no longer deny himself.
"I'm in love with you," he said, the words finally free after years of restraint. There was no fanfare, no grand pronouncements, just a simple, honest declaration that resonated with the weight of his unspoken feelings. He watched, his breath suspended, as the words settled between you, waiting for your reaction, for the answer that would either shatter him or set him free.
Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, tilting his chin up so you could meet his gaze. The question hung in the air, unspoken but palpable. "That's why you wrote my name on that graffiti wall by the basketball court? As a wish, when we wrote our wishes?"
He continued to walk you further into the shower's embrace, feeling the slick tile beneath his bare feet. Without breaking eye contact, he used his evol to release the knot of the towel cinched around his hips. It fell to the wet floor, discarded like the pretense he had carried for so long.
The warm water pulsed against your skin, a comforting weight that seemed to ground you as the world tilted on its axis. Caleb cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones.
He looked at you, really looked at you, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that left you breathless. Unspoken words swirled within those depths, echoes of old wishes and long-held dreams.
"Yes," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin. "I wished for you every time."
He gently lowered you to the shower floor, the cool tile a startling contrast to the heat that radiated from his body. Kneeling before you, he took your hand in his, his touch reverent and tender. He brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against them.
"You don't have to say anything right now," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours, searching for a flicker of understanding, a sign of reciprocation. "Just…just let me love you for now, okay?"
You could only nod, the gesture small and uncertain, but enough.
His lips curved into a gentle smile, a smile that reached his eyes and banished the shadows that had haunted them for so long. He knew how rare it was for you to grant silence, how you usually filled every space with your vibrant energy and quick wit. Your quiet acquiescence was a gift, a fragile offering that he would cherish.
"Always wanted to know what your lips tasted like under the shower," he said softly, his voice laced with a playful desire that eased the tension in the air. He slid closer, his hips brushing against yours, tilting your chin with his fingers, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "Mind if I find out?"
A spark of your old self flickered in your eyes, a hint of the playful banter that defined your friendship. "Oh…now are you asking permission after you manhandled me?" You raised an eyebrow, a challenging glint in your gaze.
He laughed, a deep, husky sound that resonated through you. "Too late for that," he pointed out, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. His hands slid down to your behind, his fingers gently kneading the curves of your flesh. "Answer the question, smartass." He nuzzled your neck, the warm breath against your skin sending shivers dancing down your spine. "Can I kiss you under the shower?"
Another nod, this one more decisive, more eager. The anticipation was a tangible thing, a vibrating energy that hummed between you.
And then his lips were on yours, gentle at first, a tentative exploration of familiar territory. But the gentleness quickly gave way to a deeper hunger, a raw need that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long. His lips became demanding, coaxing your mouth open, inviting his tongue to slide in and taste you.
The warm water rained down on you both, a sensuous curtain that veiled you from the world, mixing with the heat of his kiss. He sighed into your mouth, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, his hands squeezing your backside possessively, drawing you closer, closer, until there was no space left between you. "Finally," he breathed against your lips.
In that single word, you heard the depth of his longing, the flicker of fear, the sting of jealousy, all woven together with the raw, undeniable thread of love. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a testament to the years of suppressed desire and unspoken emotions.
He finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as he caught his breath, his chest heaving. "I've imagined this so many times," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion, raw and vulnerable. "You, me, under the shower, finally together." He kissed you again, deeper this time, pouring all his pent-up feelings into the kiss, a desperate plea for reciprocation, a silent vow of devotion.
You smiled into the kiss, a genuine, heartfelt smile that radiated through every cell of your being. It was a smile born of relief, of joy, of the burgeoning realization that your own secret feelings were finally being mirrored back at you.
He smiled back, his eyes shining with a happiness that banished the shadows and revealed the man you had always known was hidden beneath the surface. He stood up, pulling you up with him, his hands roaming possessively over your wet body, lingering on the curve of your waist, the swell of your hips.
"Let me wash you," he said, his voice husky with desire, picking up the bottle of body wash and squeezing a generous amount onto a waiting loofah. "All over."
You giggled, the sound light and carefree, a stark contrast to the intensity of the moment. "So now you’re my sweet Caleb and not Colonel Caleb?"
He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, filling the small space with a comforting intimacy. "Only you get to see this side of me," he said softly, running the loofah gently over your shoulders, his touch careful and tender. "Colonel Caleb is for everyone else."
He leaned down to kiss your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin, his hands tracing slow, deliberate circles as he began to wash you.
You sighed and leaned against him, letting the warmth of his body and the gentle caress of the loofah soothe your senses.
The water continued to pulse around you, washing away the doubts and fears, leaving only the raw, undeniable connection that bound you together.
"You know you're making it really hard for me to just wash you instead of-" He paused, clearing his throat, his voice suddenly thick with desire. "You're killing me here," he murmured, nipping gently at your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin. His hands trailed down your sides, lingering just under your breasts, his fingers tracing the delicate curve. "Should I continue washing?"
"You already stripped me naked and dragged me into the shower," you pointed out, a playful challenge in your voice, a subtle invitation in your eyes.
He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through you. "Touché," he said, his hands finally moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs circling your hardening nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. "I guess I can skip the washing part." He pressed his hips against your backside, letting you feel his growing arousal, a tangible expression of the desire that consumed him.
You moaned, the sound muffled against his shoulder, feeling the hard length of him pressed against your ass.
"Fuck," he groaned, his hands tightening on your breasts as you wiggled against him, your movements only fueling the fire that burned between you. "You're driving me crazy." He spun you around, pinning you against the shower wall, his eyes blazing with a raw, primal need. "I need to taste you," he said hoarsely, dropping to his knees.
You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, as you looked down at him. He was tall enough that his face was eye level with your tummy, his gaze intense and unwavering.
Caleb pressed a quick kiss to your belly button before trailing his lips lower, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place. "I've thought about this moment even more than kissing you," he confessed, his breath hot against your core, sending shivers of anticipation through your body. "Want to eat you out until you're screaming my name."
You whimpered, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the promise of pleasure a tantalizing lure that threatened to shatter your carefully constructed composure.
He smirks up at you, loving the effect he's having. "Brace yourself, sweetheart," he warns playfully before diving in, his mouth covering your clit as his tongue flicks rapidly over the sensitive bud. He moans at your taste, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you.
“Caleb!”
He hums in satisfaction, the sound vibrating against your most sensitive spot. "Mmm, just like I imagined," he murmurs against you, not breaking his rhythm. He slides one hand up to your breast, teasing your nipple while the other grips your thigh, pulling it over his shoulder for better access.
You almost come from the sight. This sweet powerful man who was always with you through the years was actually kneeling in front of you and eating your pussy. It was a fantasy you'd nurtured in secret, a forbidden bloom in the garden of your mind.
You never tried to imagine it, respecting your friendship and bond with him but you always wondered what if….
Now, here it was, a vibrant, tangible reality. The contrast between the gruff exterior he often projected and the exquisite tenderness of his current ministrations was almost too much to bear.
He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust and something more profound. "You have no idea how many nights I've jerked off thinking about this," he admits, his voice muffled against your thigh. The raw honesty in his confession both shocks and thrills you.
To know you've occupied his thoughts in such a primal way, to realize the depth of his desire… it ignites a fire within you, hotter than anything you've ever known. He dives back in, his tongue working faster, more insistently.
You moan as you grab his hair. The feel of his thick, dark hair between your fingers is intoxicating. You tug gently, urging him closer, desperate for more. The sensations are building, swirling, threatening to consume you.
He growls possessively, the sound rumbling against your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. He stands up abruptly, lifting you so that your legs wrap around his waist. "Need to be inside you," he declares, his voice firm with need. "Now." The urgency in his tone is electrifying. You feel your own desire mirroring his, a desperate hunger that can only be sated by the joining of your bodies.
You bite your lip. The anticipation is almost unbearable. You've waited so long for this moment, dreamed of it countless times even if it’s wrong. To finally be here, on the precipice of intimacy with Caleb, is both terrifying and exhilarating.
He takes your silence as agreement.
"Damn," he mutters, positioning himself at your entrance. He looks at you, making sure this is okay. He's big - almost too big - and he doesn't want to hurt you. The genuine concern on his face softens his rugged smooth features, making him look vulnerable and utterly irresistible. He captures your mouth again, pushing just the tip inside you. The sensation is foreign, intense, and undeniably arousing. You gasp softly against his lips.
“Wait…” you push his muscular chest to stop him. The small barrier of your hands against his powerful frame feels almost comical.
The heat radiating from his body is overwhelming, and the throbbing pressure where he's joined you is making it difficult to think.
He pauses, holding his breath as he waits for you to speak. "What's wrong?" He asks softly, his arms tightening around you. He can feel how tight you are around just the tip, and he's worried it's going to hurt too much. His concern is palpable, a wave of tenderness washing over you.
You swallow and decide to be honest, "It's gonna bleed." The words hang in the air, heavy with the unspoken truth. You watch his expression carefully, bracing yourself for his reaction.
He freezes, his eyes widening slightly as he processes what you've said. "Are you—?" He starts, then stops, his voice barely a whisper. "Are you a virgin?" He asks gently, his brow furrowing with concern and something else—tenderness. The realization washes over him, transforming his gaze from one of pure lust to one of profound respect and awe.
“Yes..” you whisper. The admission feels strangely liberating. It's a vulnerability you've kept hidden for so long, a secret you're now entrusting to him.
Caleb's breath catches as he realizes the enormity of the moment. He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes soft with emotion. "Hey," he murmurs, "we don't have to do this right now. As much as I want you, I don't want it to hurt you." The sincerity in his voice is disarming. He's willing to sacrifice his own desire for your comfort, a testament to the depth of his feelings.
You shake your head. “No. I want you too. We can’t just…stop..” The words tumble out, fueled by a mixture of nerves and longing.
You don't want to back down now. You've come too far, waited too long. The fear is still there, but it's overshadowed by the overwhelming desire to experience this with him.
He can see the determination in your eyes, mirroring his own desire. He kisses you gently, trying to prepare himself for the pain he knows you might feel. "Alright," he whispers against your lips, "but if it hurts too much, we stop, okay?" The promise is both reassuring and arousing. He's putting your needs first, but his own yearning is still evident in the intensity of his gaze.
You nod. The agreement seals the pact. You're ready.
With extreme care, he slowly pushes in further, feeling you tense around him. "Jesus," he hisses, "you're so tight. Relax, sweetheart." He keeps kissing you, trying to distract you from the invasion of his size.
The pressure is building, a burning sensation that makes you want to both pull away and lean in closer. "Here comes the part that might sting..."
You tense. Every muscle in your body is coiled tight, bracing for the inevitable pain.
He pauses, giving you a moment to breathe.
“Just a bit more," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. With infinite gentleness, he pushes forward, feeling the barrier give way. You inhale sharply, and he freezes, holding himself still inside you. "You okay?" His voice is laced with concern.
“It’s worse than my period,” you wheeze.
The comparison is clumsy, but it's the closest analogy you can come up with in the moment.
His heart clenches at your words, knowing he's the cause of your pain. He stays perfectly still, letting you get used to his size and the discomfort. "Shh, baby," he whispers, peppering your face with soft kisses. "Just breathe through it." He's a fortress of strength and tenderness, holding you close and offering silent support.
You nod and breathe deeply. You focus on the rhythm of your breath, trying to find a center of calm amidst the storm of sensations.
After what feels like an eternity, he feels your body start to relax slightly. He takes this as his cue to begin moving slowly, careful not to cause you too much discomfort. "Tell me if it's too much," he pants, his forehead dripping with sweat from the effort of holding back. The vulnerability he shows in this moment, the raw emotion etched on his face, is more intoxicating than any physical sensation.
The sight of him struggling, fighting against the raw desire that threatened to consume him, ignited a spark within you. A mischievous glint entered your eyes, a silent dare. You wouldn't cower, wouldn't appear weak or intimidated. Instead, you dug your heels into his, a subtle yet deliberate act, pulling him closer, inch by tantalizing inch. The whisper that escaped your lips was a single word, a plea, a demand: "More."
That single syllable, laced with innocent longing and burgeoning desire, seemed to shatter the last vestiges of his restraint. His grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging possessively into the soft flesh. The controlled movements he had so painstakingly maintained became less precise, more urgent, fueled by a primal need.
"Fuck," he growled, the sound raw and guttural, a stark contrast to the playful banter you usually shared. "You feel so good... better than I imagined." He paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. "But baby, I'm really deep like this... too deep?"
A moan escaped your lips, your body humming with a newfound awareness. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious ache that spread from your core to the tips of your fingers. In that moment, words seemed inadequate, clumsy tools to express the intensity of what you were feeling. All you could manage was a simple, almost childlike description: "Like stick."
The unexpected crudeness, delivered with your characteristic naiveté, drew a smile from him, a genuine curve of his lips that momentarily softened the intensity in his eyes. Even as he fought to control his own spiraling pleasure, he understood. He knew you wanted him buried deep inside you, wanted to feel the fullness of his presence.
"Too stuck, you mean?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin. He began to move, slowly at first, thrusting his hips in a circular motion, deliberately pressing against your sensitive walls, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from you.
"No…" you choked out, a nervous laugh bubbling up from your chest. "You're so hard that it feels like I have a stick in my pussy." The words were clumsy, unrefined, yet perfectly captured the unfamiliar sensation that had taken hold of you.
His head snapped back, and a deep, unrestrained laugh erupted from his chest, a sound you had never heard before. It was a sexy, guttural sound that resonated through your body, sending shivers down your spine.
Despite your innocence, your blunt phrasing had only served to harden him even more inside you. "Only you," he said, his voice thick with amusement and desire, "could make me laugh while I'm fucking you senseless..." He leaned down, pressing a series of slow, deliberate kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through you.
A smile bloomed on your face, and a soft moan escaped your lips, a testament to the exquisite sensations flooding your senses.
He continued to move, his body finding a rhythm that seemed to please you both. His thrusts grew deeper, more assured, each one pushing you closer to the edge. "God, you're amazing," he murmured, his voice strained with effort. "Your pussy is so tight and wet... it's like a perfect glove." He leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue mimicking the motion of his hips, driving you wild.
"Mmm," you hummed, lost in the intoxicating sensation of his mouth on yours, his body pressed against yours.
Seeing you so consumed by pleasure emboldened him, and he quickened his pace slightly, his movements becoming more insistent. He could feel your body beginning to relax, opening up to him, surrendering to the raw, untamed desire that coursed through you both. "You like how I fill you up, don't you?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Is my big cock hitting that sweet spot?"
Your eyes rolled back in your head, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his voice. It was a voice you had never heard before, seductive and possessive. You had known him for years, talked to him countless times, but this voice, this side of him, was completely new.
He could see the surprise in your eyes, the flicker of recognition as his deep, husky voice washed over you. He knew this voice was reserved only for the intimacy of this moment, a secret language spoken only between lovers. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you even closer as he thrust deeper, pushing you closer to the edge of oblivion. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice laced with a hint of possessiveness.
You slowly obeyed, your eyelids fluttering open, revealing the hazy depths of your desire. You met his gaze, your breath coming in ragged gasps.
He held your gaze, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart pound in your chest. "That's it," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "I love seeing you like this—flushed, breathless, and taking my cock so beautifully." He shifted his angle slightly, finding that elusive spot that made you gasp aloud, a strangled sound of pure pleasure.
"Caleb…" you moaned, his name a breathless plea on your lips. "Please!"
Hearing his name spoken with such raw desire seemed to snap something inside him. In that moment, you were no longer his innocent best friend, the girl he had protected and cherished for years. You were a woman, a sexy, wanton creature beneath him, begging for more.
"Please what, baby?" he ground out, his hips bucking against yours, hitting that sweet spot again and again. "Do you want it harder?"
You bit your lip, a nervous habit that had always plagued you. Seeing that small, vulnerable gesture seemed to ignite a fire within him.
"...Fuck, don't bite that lip like that. Never hurt yourself," he growled, his voice laced with a protective ferocity. He caught your plump bottom lip between his own teeth, gently tugging before capturing your mouth in a deep, consuming kiss. Without warning, he abandoned all pretense of control and began pounding into you harder, each thrust precise and powerful, driving you closer to the brink. "That what you wanted?" he asked, his voice a low rumble against your lips, knowing full well that it was.
You whimpered, your head lolling down against his shoulder. "Like that. Yes…"
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, his control finally slipping away as your whimpers drove him wild. "You feel so damn good I could come already..." He pinned your hands above your head, changing the angle completely, granting him deeper access. His eyes darkened with unrestrained desire as he slammed into you, finding that perfect spot that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body.
"Oh fuck, Caleb!" You screamed his name as you came, your body arching off the wall, exposing the delicate curve of your throat.
Seeing your neck bared and hearing his name spill from your lips in a scream of pure ecstasy made his body taut with anticipation. He plunged into you even harder, chasing your orgasm with his own.
"Damn," he muttered, watching your body writhe beneath him, your muscles clenching and releasing in a symphony of pleasure.
Your neck was arched back, your breasts thrust out, a vision of pure, unadulterated beauty.
Releasing your wrists, he used the advantage of your exposed neck, curling his hand around your throat, holding his fingers against your jaw.
"Fuck…."
He used his other hand to pull one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you up completely, granting him deeper access. He wrapped his fingers around your throat, his touch surprisingly gentle as he tilted your head back further, exposing you to his intense gaze.
He continued to thrust into you brutally, each stroke a testament to his raw, untamed desire. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice hoarse with passion.
You sobbed as you looked at him, another orgasm building within you, threatening to overwhelm you completely.
Seeing the tears in your eyes, the raw vulnerability etched on your face, pushed him over the edge. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as he came with a guttural groan, his body convulsing with the force of his release.
His hot, thick seed filled you up, throbbing inside you as his hips jerked erratically.
"Fuck...fuck…fuck," he chanted, his fingers tightening slightly around your throat, a primal expression of possession.
As his breathing slowly returned to normal, he inhaled the familiar scent of apples, a fragrance he had come to associate with you, now mixed with the intoxicating aroma of sweat and mingled pleasure. It was a scent that suddenly felt incredibly intimate, comforting, and achingly familiar.
He nuzzled his face into your neck, gently kissing away the beads of perspiration.
"Baby... you're crying," he murmured, his voice laced with concern.
You choked out a teary laugh. "Yes."
He wiped the tears away with his thumb, his fingers loosening their hold on your throat.
"Was it too much?" he asked softly, his purple eyes searching your tear-streaked face, seeking reassurance. He could feel you still trembling beneath him, your body wracked with aftershocks and lingering sobs.
You swallowed, trying to find the words to articulate the complex emotions swirling within you. "You're so intense…."
"Too intense?" he asked carefully, pulling back slightly, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. His gaze dropped to your neck, and he saw the faint marks left by his fingers. He realized his handprint was slightly visible, a stark reminder of the intensity of their encounter. He also remembered your throaty screams, the way your legs had been wrapped tightly around his waist.
"Answer me," he said hoarsely. "Truthfully."
"I mean…it surprised me…"
He nodded slowly, understanding your shock. "I know I got a bit... carried away," he admitted, his thumb gently rubbing the faint mark on your neck. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
His voice was laced with genuine concern, the intense lust from earlier replaced with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.
You shook your head, your eyes meeting his. "I loved it."
He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "You did?" he asks, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Because fuck, baby, you looked so beautiful like that... tears and all." He leans down and kisses you gently, his hand cupping your face.
The shower roars around you, a steamy cocoon isolating you both from the world. The water sluices over your skin, washing away the remnants of your earlier despair, replaced now by a heady mix of fear and exhilaration.
“So you admit that you’re a sadist?” you laugh, the sound a little breathless, a little shaky. You try to inject some lightness into the moment, to diffuse the raw tension that crackles between you. But the words hang in the humid air, heavy with unspoken desires.
He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through your chest, his fingers tightening around your face possessively.
"Guilty as charged," he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and moist against your skin. "You bring out the worst in me, you know that?" He pulls back slightly, his purple eyes glinting mischievously, reflecting the overhead light. “You like being manhandled?”
You blush, the heat rising in your cheeks, prickling your skin. "What kind of question is that?" you stammer, your mind struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire intensity of his words and actions. The way he looks at you, like you're the only thing in the universe, is both terrifying and intoxicating.
He smirks, clearly enjoying your reaction, the curve of his lips predatory and enticing.
"It's a simple question, baby. Do you like it when I get rough with you?" He shifts slightly, making sure you can feel him, still hard and throbbing, deep inside you.
"Because I can do it again if you want." The air crackles with unspoken promises, with the threat of exquisite pain and pleasure intertwined.
“Round two?” Your eyes widen, mirroring a mixture of disbelief and undeniable anticipation. The thought of surrendering to his dominance, of relinquishing control, both scares and excites you in equal measure.
"Or three," he says with a smirk, lifting his hips slightly to remind you of his persistent presence within you. "I can keep going all night, you know. And judging by how your pussy just tightened around me..." He runs his nose along yours teasingly, the scent of soap and arousal filling your senses. "You want more." He knows you. He sees through your carefully constructed facade of defiance straight to the yearning core of your desire.
“Shit…you little-“ you start to retort, but the words die in your throat, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his presence.
"Fucking genius?" He offers, interrupting you, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Yeah, I know." He captures your lips again, swallowing your curses as he starts moving his hips again, slowly, deliberately, drawing out the exquisite torment. "Now shut up and let me manhandle you some more," he growls against your lips, the possessive command igniting a fire deep within you.
You growl in his mouth, a primal sound of frustrated desire. You want to fight him, to resist, but your body betrays you, arching instinctively into his touch.
He grins, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, a delicious threat. "Like that?" he asks, his voice low and husky, vibrating with barely suppressed passion. "You're so fucking adorable when you're trying to be aggressive." He uses his gravity evol to lift you even higher up against the tiled wall, your legs wrapping around his waist, affording him even deeper access.
By this point, you're both completely drenched under the relentless shower spray, the water plastering your hair to your face and tracing rivulets down your heated skin.
“Hey!” you exclaim, a weak protest.
He laughs, a deep rumbling sound that echoes in the small space. "You're adorable and you know it." He starts thrusting harder, his hips slapping against yours loudly, the rhythm primal and insistent. "Now be a good girl and hold on," he commands, his hands gripping your ass tightly as he fucks you hard against the wall, claiming you with every powerful stroke.
“Shit…shit…shit,” you curse and moan, the words a litany of surrender. You try to bite back the sounds escaping your lips, but the pleasure is too intense, the sensation of him filling you too overwhelming.
He swallows your cries with his mouth, one hand sliding up to cover your breast possessively, his thumb teasing your nipple.
"Damn right," he hisses, watching your body bounce between the wall and his hips, his eyes dark and intense with lust. "Take my dick like a good girl," he growls out, his purple eyes darkening with desire.
You gasp, your muscles clenching involuntarily around him, a desperate plea for release.
He tosses his head back with a groan, feeling your walls tighten around his cock, the sensation almost unbearable. "Fuck, just like that," he praises breathlessly, squeezing your breast harder, eliciting another gasp from you. The steam from the shower fogs up the air around you, creating a hazy, sensual atmosphere, droplets of water mingling with your sweat, clinging to your skin like tiny jewels.
He leans in your ear, breathing heavily, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “You know what I would love to see?”
“What?” you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse with passion.
"My gun down your throat. The one you so desperately wanted to take," he whispers, the words a shocking contrast to the sensual intensity that had been building between you.
You choke, your muscles clenching again, this time not from pleasure, but from a sudden, sharp wave of fear and confusion.
What the fuck? The abrupt shift in tone leaves you reeling, your mind struggling to reconcile the brutal image he paints with the raw intimacy you've been sharing.
He smiles at your reaction, a cruel, knowing curve of his lips, his hips slowing down as he continues speaking into your ear, his voice low and dangerous. "You tried to steal from me and now I want to see your mouth stuffed full of something I own." He bites your earlobe, his tongue piercing digging into your skin, a small stab of pain that sends a jolt through you.
“You wouldn’t…” you hiss, the words a mix of disbelief and challenge.
"Try me," he laughs darkly, the sound sending a shiver of apprehension down your spine. "I might actually enjoy watching you choke on my gun." He pulls back slightly to look at your face, his purple eyes serious, devoid of any trace of the playful amusement from before. "You have such a smart mouth. I bet it'd look perfect wrapped around my gun." He tightens his hips again slowly, deliberately, the movement both a punishment and a promise.
“You’re serious?” You are speechless, the air knocked out of your lungs.
As a hunter, you held a gun everyday but use it for pleasure like this? Was he insane?
The thought is jarring, disturbing, completely at odds with your understanding of the world.
"Deadly serious," he states firmly, his gaze unwavering. "I own you now, remember? Your mouth is mine to use however I want."
He leans back and uses his evol to grab the gun from the counter as it floated in his waiting hand, holding it up so you can see it. The metal glints menacingly under the shower spray, reflecting the sharp angles of his face. "Open up."
“Caleb…” you gasp, shocked, the name a plea, a desperate attempt to reach the man you thought you knew.
"Now," he orders, his voice firm and commanding, brooking no argument. He presses the cold metal against your bottom lip, silently urging you to open your mouth, the contact sending a shiver of revulsion and a strange, twisted kind of excitement through you.
His eyes blaze with possessiveness and triumph as he looks at your shocked expression, the power he wields over you palpable. "Be a good girl and open your mouth for me," he demands softly, the words laced with a dangerous undertone.
You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to breathe. Slowly, hesitantly, you open your mouth, a silent act of surrender.
He slides the gun into your mouth slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving yours, watching your reaction with an almost clinical detachment. "Good girl," he praises, his voice low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "Now suck it like you would my cock." He watches as you tentatively wrap your lips around the metal, your eyes wide with shock and arousal, the conflicting emotions warring within you.
You taste the cold metal, the lingering smell of gun powder filling your nostrils as you suck the barrel, a strange, forbidden pleasure tingling on your tongue.
He can feel your warm breath on the gun as you suck on it, his fingers tightening around the handle possessively, the weight of the weapon heavy in his hand. "Deeper," he growls, pushing the gun further into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, the metallic taste intensifying.
You whimper, a small, involuntary sound of distress and submission.
The cool metal of the gun barrel presses against your lips, a stark contrast to the heat that’s been building between you and Caleb for what feels like an eternity.
He pulls it out slowly, deliberately, the silver glinting in the dim bathroom light. A thin string of saliva stretches from your parted lips to the cold steel, a fragile connection in this moment of raw, untamed desire.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice a low, husky rumble that sends shivers down your spine. His eyes, usually a vibrant, playful purple, are now dark pools of lust, focused solely on you, on the way your body reacts to his every move. He slides the gun back in, a slow, agonizing tease that makes your breath catch in your throat. Each inch is a deliberate act, mimicking the possessive thrusts of his hips from just moments before, etching the memory of his forceful claim onto your very being.
The sensation is shocking, forbidden, and undeniably arousing. You try to fight it, to pull away, but his grip is firm, his control absolute. He dictates the pace, the depth, the intensity of this bizarre, sensual dance.
Your head spins, the world tilting on its axis as the pleasure and the danger intertwine, creating a potent cocktail that threatens to overwhelm your senses.
Soon, your eyes roll back in your head, the fight draining out of you as you surrender to the intoxicating wave of sensation. You’re lost in the moment, the boundaries between right and wrong blurring beyond recognition.
“Mmh,” he hums, watching your body go lax, your mouth open and accepting around the gun. A possessive triumph flickers in his eyes, a primal satisfaction at your complete submission. “You like getting mouth-fucked by my gun?” he growls softly, his voice rough with barely contained desire.
He pushes it deeper again, hitting your throat harder this time, a deliberate act that makes you gag slightly, but the discomfort only adds to the intensity of the experience. The sound of wet, sloppy sucking fills the small bathroom, amplifying the intimacy, the transgression.
You can’t help it. You moan, a low, guttural sound that escapes from the back of your throat, a testament to the pleasure he’s inflicting, to the control he wields.
He feels your moan vibrate around the gun, the sound resonating through his body, igniting a fire that threatens to consume him.
“Fuck,” he groans, the sound ripped from his chest, raw and desperate. He pulls the gun out and sets it aside on the shower bench, the sound of metal against tile echoing in the sudden silence.
His other hand, calloused and strong, grips your throat tightly, not painfully, but firmly, possessively, reminding you who’s in charge. He slams his mouth against yours, kissing you roughly, desperately, his tongue invading your mouth in a blatant act of ownership. “You’re mine,” he hisses against your lips, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.
You sob, a small, involuntary sound of surrender, as the overwhelming rush of sensation finally breaks you. You come, hard and fast, the orgasm tearing through you with a force that leaves you shaking, gasping for breath. Harder than before, more intense, more complete.
He swallows your cries, muffling the sounds of your climax, claiming them as his own.
Your body convulses, your nails digging into his back as you cling to him, the only anchor in this sea of overwhelming sensation. He feels your release cover his thighs again, hot and slick against his skin, his eyes darkening with a mixture of possessiveness and raw, primal hunger.
He lifts you up suddenly, wrapping your legs around his waist again, your bodies molding together as one. He pulls out and enters you roughly, a forceful invasion that makes you scream loudly, the sound echoing off the tiled walls.
His fingers dig into your bottom, gripping you tightly as he lifts you up and down on his length, fucking you hard and fast against the shower wall. The sound of slapping skin mingles with your screams, creating a cacophony of pleasure and pain, of dominance and surrender. His eyes, burning with possessiveness and hunger, seem to pierce through you, stripping you bare, exposing your innermost desires. “Who owns this pussy?”
You sob, the words torn from your throat, a desperate plea for release, for validation. “You, Caleb. You.”
He slams into you harder, deeper, rewarding your submission with a low groan that vibrates against your skin. “Goddamn right I do,” he growls, biting your neck possessively, leaving a trail of burning kisses in his wake.
His hips piston relentlessly, driving you closer and closer to the edge. The shower wall steams up around you both, droplets of water mingling with your sweat and his saliva, marking your skin with the evidence of his claim.
You can’t hold out, the next orgasm building inside you, a tidal wave of sensation threatening to engulf you.
As if sensing your approaching climax, he reaches down and presses his thumb against your clit, circling it mercilessly, increasing the pressure, pushing you closer to the breaking point. “Come for me again, princess,” he demands harshly, his voice rough and possessive. “Show me who this pussy belongs to.”
The sweet pet name, spoken in this moment of intense passion, is a final surrender, a complete and utter relinquishing of control. It makes you come again, almost absurdly, the force of the orgasm even more intense than before.
He groans deeply as he feels your pussy clench around him, milking his cock with each pulse of your orgasm. “Fucking hell,” he growls, his hips moving faster and more erratically, his control slipping as he teeters on the edge of his own release. “That’s it, princess. Come all over my cock.”
“Caleb!”
He hilts himself inside you with a final, brutal thrust, biting down on your shoulder to stifle his own cries as his orgasm crashes through him, a cataclysmic explosion of sensation.
“Mine,” he snarls possessively, flooding your pussy with his hot, thick release. His cock twitches inside you, prolonging your shared climax, holding you captive in this moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.
“Holy shit!” You wheeze, gasping for breath as the last tremors of your orgasm subside.
Panting heavily, Caleb leans his forehead against yours, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Holy shit is right,” he chuckles weakly, his cock still buried deep inside you, a tangible reminder of the connection you share. He squeezes your ass playfully, his earlier intensity melting into post-coital affection. “You alright there, princess?”
You are left panting, your mind still reeling from the intensity of what just happened, struggling to process the sheer force of his dominance, the depths of your own surrender.
He can see the dazed expression in your eyes, a testament to the power of the encounter. He nuzzles his face against yours, inhaling your scent deeply, savoring the taste of your skin. “Baby, you okay?” he asks softly, his fingers splaying out on your backside possessively, assuring himself that you’re still there, still his.
You nod weakly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasms. “I think I broke my sweet Caleb.”
He lets out a low, satisfied laugh, his body still entwined with yours, his cock throbbing inside you. “You didn’t break me, princess. But damn, you wore me out.” He gently kisses your lips, his hands moving to support your weight as he slowly lowers you down, his cock finally slipping out of you, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed.
“Oh god…” you gasp and wobble, feeling his cum leaking out of you, a visible reminder of his possession.
Seeing the look on your face, a mixture of shock and arousal, he grins mischievously.
He reaches down and scoops some of his semen off your inner thighs, bringing his fingers up to your mouth. “Open up, princess,” he commands softly, his eyes locked with yours, daring you to resist. “Taste what you do to me.”
You don’t glare this time, the fight gone out of you, replaced by a strange mixture of exhaustion and a lingering desire. You melt and open your mouth, too weak to fight or argue, surrendering once again to his will.
He gently pushes his fingers between your lips, letting you taste his salty, musky release. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip as he pulls his fingers out, leaving a glistening sheen on your skin. He helps you steady yourself against the shower wall, his hands roaming possessively over your curves, claiming you as his own.
“I can’t believe you fucked my mouth with your gun.”
He chuckles darkly, turning off the shower and wrapping you in a plush towel, his movements gentle despite the raw intensity of the encounter you just shared. “I can’t believe you let me,” he retorts, his voice still laced with amusement and satisfaction. He picks you up bridal style, carrying you out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, his eyes never leaving yours.
“You were forcing me, you know?” You hiss, trying to regain some semblance of control, to remind him that there are boundaries, even between you.
He lays you down on the bed, a smirk tugging at his lips as he towels you off more aggressively than necessary, his eyes burning with a possessive fire. “Forcing you? Baby, you sucked that gun like it was your favorite fucking lollipop.” He leans in close, his voice low and teasing, his breath ghosting against your skin.
You swallow, not knowing what to say, caught between outrage and a shameful surge of arousal.
He notices your reaction, the flicker of desire in your eyes, and his smirk grows wider. “Did you like it that much?” he asks, his eyes shining with curiosity and something darker, something that both excites and terrifies you. Before you can respond, he gently spreads your legs and crawls between them, his face hovering just above your pussy, his breath hot against your most sensitive flesh. “Let’s find out.”
“How?” You breathe.
He inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering closed as he savors your scent. When he opens them, they lock onto yours with an intent gaze. Slowly, deliberately, he leans down and presses his mouth to your pussy, parting your lips with his tongue and dragging it through your folds.
“Oh shit!” The words are a ragged expulsion of air, a surrender to the intense sensations that are already threatening to overwhelm you.
He grins against you, the vibrations sending a shock of pleasure through you. “That good, huh?” He does it again, this time flicking his tongue over your clit, watching your face contort with pleasure. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open and exposing you fully to his mouth.
“Caleb…” Your voice is a dazed whisper, barely audible above the roaring in your ears. Your eyes, wide and unfocused, lock on his. You search for something, anything, in his gaze – a hint of mercy, perhaps, or maybe just a sign that he’s feeling this as intensely as you are.
"What baby? Want me to stop?" His voice is a rough whisper against your wetness, knowing full well that you don't want him to stop. He circles your clit with his tongue again, maintaining eye contact as he does so. "Does my tongue feel good right here?"
You moan, a low, guttural sound that comes from the depths of your soul. Your hands, trembling, reach up to grip his hair, your fingers tangling in the dark strands, pulling him closer. “Caleb…fuck…”
He chuckles darkly, the vibrations against your sensitive nub making your hips buck up. He sucks your clit into his mouth, applying gentle pressure as he flicks his tongue back and forth. His fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you even wider as he devours you hungrily.
Your eyes roll back in your head, your vision blurring at the edges. You feel yourself losing control, spiraling down into a vortex of pure sensation.
"Fucking hell, you taste amazing," Caleb growls, releasing your clit momentarily. He dives back in, this time plunging his tongue deep inside your pussy, mimicking the motion of a cock. He curls it upwards, seeking that special spot to make you see stars.
You come without warning, a sudden, overwhelming surge of pleasure that shatters your control completely.
You scream out loud as a intense orgasm rips through your body, making your legs shake uncontrollably. Caleb holds onto your hips, keeping you place as he continues to lick and suck on your pussy, prolonging your climax. Your eyes flutter open, finding his intense gaze locked onto yours.
"I love watching you fall apart on my tongue," Caleb says roughly, giving your clit one last lick before standing up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His pupils are dilated with desire, his breathing heavy.
You lick your lips, still tasting him on them, and your gaze lowers to his body. He is very much naked after the shower you just had, his skin flushed and damp, his muscles tense with barely suppressed energy.
Caleb follows your gaze and smirks, his hand reaching down to wrap around his thick, hard cock. He gives it a slow, languid stroke, his thumb swirling over the sensitive head. "You want this, don't you?" he asks, his voice a deep, seductive rumble.
You whimper, a small, involuntary sound of need that betrays your every thought. You lay in the bed, still with your legs spread and boneless, completely at his mercy.
He watches you, his eyes darkening. The way your legs are spread, the way your body is boneless and sated - it makes his blood boil, fuels the possessive hunger that claws at his insides. He wraps his hand tighter around his length, pumping slowly. "You look like you've been properly fucked," he comments softly, almost to himself, voice laced with dark satisfaction.
You choke a laugh, a weak, breathless sound that still manages to convey a hint of playful defiance. “And who was the one who did that?”
He groans, his eyes fluttering closed briefly as he continues to slow jerk himself off. You’re teasing him, laughing softly even though you’re clearly wrecked from their fucking. "Shut up," he mutters, his voice strained.
You find yourself watching. Each stroke is deliberate, a slow, sensual dance of hand against flesh. You see the flexing of his muscles, the tightening of his jaw, and the way his breath hitches with each movement. It's a raw, uninhibited display, and you find yourself captivated by the sheer intensity of it.
He opens his eyes, finding you watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. The way you're looking at him, like you're enjoying the show - fuck, it's hot. He picks up the pace, his hand moving faster over his length. "You like watching me touch myself?" he asks roughly.
You swallow, the word catching in your throat. "Yes," you whisper, the admission a release, a surrender to the moment.
A low groan escapes his lips as he hears your admission. He strokes himself faster, his grip tightening. "Do you want to watch me come?" he asks, his voice strained with desire. "Or do you want something else?" He looks at you, his eyes filled with lust and a hint of challenge.
"More..." you breathe, the word a plea, a promise.
His breathing grows heavier as he continues to stroke himself, his free hand balling into a fist at his side. "More what?" he growls, his eyes locked onto yours. "You want me to do something else?" He swirls his thumb over the sensitive head, his hand pausing briefly.
A moan escapes your lips, involuntary, a testament to the power he holds over you. You nod, unable to speak, your body trembling with need.
A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth, a predatory curve that sends a thrill of excitement through you. He releases his length, leaving it throbbing, glistening, a beacon of raw desire. He comes closer to the bed, stopping at the edge,” Come here, baby.”
You obey, your body moving without conscious thought. You close your legs, knees digging into the mattress, and crawl towards him, drawn by an irresistible force.
As you crawl closer, Caleb reaches out, his large hands grasping your wrists gently. He pulls you the last bit, until you're kneeling right before him. His cock juts out, a pulsing testament to his desire, inches from your face. “I think you want a taste," he murmurs, stroking his shaft slowly.
You lick your lips, the anticipation building to a fever pitch. You nod, looking up at him with a mixture of lust and adoration. He's offering you a gift, a privilege, and you're ready to receive it.
Caleb's breath hitches as he watches you lick your lips. He guides his thick head to your mouth, painting your lips with his pre-cum. "Open up for me, sweetheart," he orders softly, his voice thick with desire. He wants to feel your warm, wet mouth enveloping him, to lose himself in the sensation of your touch.
You open your lips, a silent invitation, and he doesn't hesitate.
"Fuck," he whispers, the word an expletive and a prayer as you take him in. He pushes himself deeper inch by inch until he hits the back of your throat. Your gag reflex tries to kick in, but he keeps a firm but gentle grasp on the back of your head, holding you steady. "You're such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice laced with praise, the words a reward for your devotion.
Your eyes roll back in your head, lost in the sensation, the praise igniting a fire within you. You want to please him, to give him everything he desires.
Seeing your reaction, Caleb groans deeply, his hips beginning to move slowly. "That's it, baby. Take my cock so well," he praises, his voice husky with lust. He gently thrusts deeper, giving you time to adjust to his size, to the overwhelming sensation of his presence.
You moan, a muffled sound against his flesh, and almost choke, tears welling up in your eyes. You struggle to breathe, forcing air through your nose, trying to maintain control, to continue pleasing him.
Caleb's grip on your head tightens slightly, but he remains gentle, feeling your struggle. "Shh, baby, take a breath," he coos softly, slowly pulling back to give you a moment of respite. He watches as you gasp for air, tears streaming down your cheeks, your face flushed and contorted with effort,” Look at me.” he whispers.
You look up at him, your eyes pleading, vulnerable.
His heart melts at the sight of you looking up at him with those tear-stained cheeks. His pace remains slow and rhythmic, careful not to hurt you. Not this time. "You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth," he whispers, wiping away a tear with his thumb.
You whimper, a small, involuntary sound of pleasure, loving that he's so tender with you, so aware of your limits.
"My sweet girl..." he breathes out, continuing those careful thrusts. One hand stays on your head while the other gently strokes your cheek, offering comfort and reassurance. “You're doing so good, taking me so deep..." He watches you struggle, feeling both guilt and intense pleasure knowing it's him causing those sweet tears, that look of blissful torment on your face.
You try to open your mouth wider for him, a silent offering, a desperate attempt to give him everything he wants.
"God, yes... just like that," he encourages, his voice growing thicker as he feels himself nearing his limit. "Your mouth is heaven, sweetheart. So warm, so tight... I'm so fucking close." He bites his lip, trying to hold back, wanting to prolong this moment.
You moan around him, a garbled sound of pleasure and desperation, reaching up to cup his balls, your fingers gently stroking, teasing, adding fuel to the fire.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he curses under his breath, a tremor running through his powerful thighs, the muscles bunching and releasing under your touch. "Stop, stop," he warns you gently, the words a breathy plea, yet his hands, those strong hands that could crush bone stay firmly on your head, contradictory to his words. "You'll make me come if you keep doing that..." His breathing grows raspier.
You ignored him, or perhaps, he knew you would. The thrill of control, of pushing him closer and closer to the brink, was a heady aphrodisiac. Deeper, faster, you swallowed, your hand a firm, possessive grip on his heavy sac, the weight of his impending release heavy in your palm.
"Holy shit," he mutters, hips jerking forward slightly. He's trying hard not to face-fuck you, his self-control surprisingly good. "Your mouth..." He swallows hard, watching you take him deep. "Your hand..." He tenses again as you gently massage his balls.
You broke the rhythm, just for a moment, lifting your head, your gaze locking with his. The moan that escaped your lips was a primal sound, born of pure, unadulterated lust.
His face contorts with pleasure when you look up at him, your usual innocent eyes were filled with desire and hunger, and he finally loses control. "Fuck, I'm coming," he grits out, hands gripping your head tightly as he begins to pump his hips, face screwed up in ecstasy.
Your eyes roll back, the world fading away as the first taste of his release flooded your mouth. He was fire, molten and consuming, and you welcomed the burn.
He lets out a guttural groan as he releases into your mouth, his hot seed spilling out as you swallow around him. He holds you there, not allowing you to pull back as he continues to shudder and come, his body trembling above you. "Damn..." The word was a ragged whisper, a testament to the intensity of what had just transpired.
Seeing him undone, vulnerable, weak in the aftermath of his climax, fueled a deep, primal satisfaction within you. He was a god brought to his knees, and you were the force that had felled him.
Caleb's knees nearly buckle as the last waves of his orgasm course through him. Slowly, he pulls back, his cock slipping from your lips with a soft pop. He stares down at you, chest heaving, a look of stunned awe on his flushed face. "Holy shit," he repeated, the words a hushed prayer.
You swallowed, relishing the lingering taste of him, and licked the last remnants from your lips. The act was deliberately provocative, a silent dare. Your voice was hoarse, raw from the intensity of the moment. "How was that? Better than when you made me choke on your gun?" You grinned, a flash of teeth in the dim light, the question laced with a playful defiance.
A low chuckle rumbles in Caleb's chest as he listens to your hoarse voice and teasing words. His eyes light up with amusement and something darker, more primal. He reaches down, gently lifting your chin with his thumb and index finger. "Mmm, definitely better." He murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.
Your grin widened, emboldened by his response.
Caleb's gaze drops to your lips, still glistening with his release. Without a word, he leans down, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue delves in, tasting himself on your lips and tongue. He pulls back after a moment, breathing heavily.
The words, the ones you had choked back in the shower, the ones that had been burning in your throat, finally escaped. "I love you..." The declaration hung in the air, fragile and vulnerable.
His heart skips a beat, emotions playing across his features - surprise, fear, love. "Fuck... don't you dare say things like that," he whispers, but there's no venom in his tone. Instead, he pulls you closer, forehead resting against yours, the contact grounding him.
You giggled, the sound light and airy in the otherwise heavy atmosphere. "Well... you told me to take my time."
A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, crinkling the skin around his eyes. "You did take your time," he admitted, his voice softer now. He sat back against the headboard, pulling you into his lap, his arms wrapping tightly around you, holding you close. "Too much time." He paused, his heart pounding in his chest, a frantic drumbeat against your back.
You snuggled into his neck, inhaling his scent, the familiar aroma a comfort and a challenge. "You love me, so it's only right to love you back."
Caleb's arms tighten around you, his breath hitching slightly at your words. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, his voice barely above a whisper. "You know I do. More than anything." He pauses, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back, a silent language of affection.
"Mmm," you murmured, content in his embrace.
Caleb tilts his head, watching your smiling face intently. A playful smirk tugs at his lips as he squeezes you gently in his lap. "Was that an'mmm' of agreement or an'mmm' of trouble?" His eyebrow arches teasingly, clear amusement sparkling in his eyes.
You rested your forehead against his, peering up at him through your lashes. "Definitely agreement."
A warmth spreads across his face at your answer, his eyes softening as they lock onto yours. His hand moves to gently rest on your cheek, thumb stroking across your skin. "Smartass," he whispers, but the word comes out fondly.
You nuzzled his hand, pressing a kiss into his palm. You had missed this, these quiet, tender moments, the feeling of being safe and cherished in his arms.
He watches you nuzzle into his palm, his expression unguarded. His other hand comes up to cup your jaw possessively. "God, you're like a damn cat," he murmurs, his voice lower, almost tender again. He missed these small, unguarded moments with you too, the feeling of your warmth against him, the trust that flowed between you.
You giggled, the sound fading into silence as you settled back into his embrace. "What now?" The question hung in the air, a hesitant inquiry about the future, about where this fragile connection would lead.
Caleb's thumb continues to stroke your cheek, his eyes searching yours. "What do you want to do now?" he asks softly, giving you a small smile. He shifts slightly, making sure you're comfortable in his lap. "We could just stay like this for a while, or... we could talk."
"Or...you can bring me some snacks?" You countered, the playful request a deliberate attempt to lighten the mood, to avoid the weight of serious conversation.
Chuckles softly, the vibrations rumbling against your back. "Always so demanding, aren't you?" He kisses your shoulder gently before setting you back on the bed. "Fine, I'll get you some snacks. But only if you promise to stay right there and look pretty for me."
“How pretty?” You teased, batting your eyelashes as you watched him pull his boxers on.
Rolling his eyes playfully, Caleb ran a deliberately slow, appreciative gaze over you, from head to toe, lingering on the curve of your breasts, the swell of your hips.
"Prettier than a sunrise, dummy. Now sit tight before you ruin my carpet with your gorgeous self sprawled out naked."
You laughed, a genuine, uninhibited sound that filled the room. "You think I would lay on the carpet?"
"With your lazy ass?" He teases, shaking his head as he turns towards the kitchen. "Knowing you, you'd probably decide the carpet is more comfortable than this king-sized bed." His voice carries a warm, affectionate tone that betrays his playful joking.
"Bring my favorite! Apple flavored!" You called out after him, the request laced with a sweet anticipation.
His low chuckle was the only response, a soft rumble that faded as he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you alone with the lingering scent of sex and the quiet hum of contentment.
I feel like with Calebs obsessiveness and Xaviers possessiveness it would be disastrous if they ever met. I fully believe they'd have more beef than Caleb vs Zayne, so here's a funny little one-shot.
"So, pipsqueak, want to get that couples discount?" Caleb winked at you. "I hear they're doing two desserts for the price of one for loving couples."
You laughed at Caleb's antics but you couldn't turn down such a good deal on dessert. "Sounds like a plan...darling."
"Well, in that case, my dear..." He said, offering his elbow. "lead the way."
Laughing, you dragged Caleb out of your apartment, stopping abruptly a few steps into the hallway when you saw Xavier.
"Xavier." You dropped Calebs arm and bounced over to Xavier, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. "Thank you so much for today, I saw you handed in those files for me. Captain Jenna would have had my head on a stick if it wasn't for you."
"It's no trouble." Xavier replied, hugging you back, leaving an arm around your waist after you dropped your arms from his neck.
"Caleb, come." You waved him over. "There's someone I want you to meet."
You felt Xaviers arm about your waist stiffen. Looking up at the blonde, you noticed his eyes giving Caleb a quick once-over.
Leaving Xaviers side, you walked over to Caleb and wrapped your arms around his.
"Xavier, this is my brother, Caleb. He's in town for the night." You introduced him.
Xavier looked Caleb up and down once more.
"Adoptive." Caleb quickly added, removing your hand from his arm to intertwine it with his own. "We're not actually related, but have been best friends since you were seven."
"Oh, adopted. That explains a lot." Xavier muttered. "I was just thinking about how someone clearly inherited all the good looks." He gave you a cheeky smile, making you blush.
Clearing your throat, you continued. "Caleb, this is Xavier, he's my partner back at the Association." You tell Caleb.
Caleb looked down his nose at Xavier despite the only two inch difference between their heights. "Well, that explains why she keep coming back injured after your patrols together."
"Caleb." You scowled and muttered, embarrassed. "I told you, I don't need anyone protecting me."
"She's a big girl, I trust in her abilities to handle herself." Xavier shrugged with a smirk at Calebs chastised face.
"So, what are you up to, Xavier?" You ask quickly, trying to change the subject.
"Going for a walk." He replied simply.
"People usually go outside for that, not in hallways." Calebs hand squeezed yours tighter.
Xavier ignored him, looking at you. "I was also coming to see if you had eaten."
"We were just heading out to get dinner together, actually." Caleb answered for you. "Does he usually drops by to check if you've eaten?" Caleb asked, glancing down at you.
"Yes." Xavier said quietly. "We have dinner together most nights."
"Xavier and I usually go and get takeaway. Its become our little ritual." You reached out and tapped Xavier's arm fondly while looking at Caleb whose eyes suddenly darkened.
"Can't cook, Xander? Here, I was thinking cooking was a basic life skill." Caleb, tilted his head and murmured. "I used to cook for her every night, she always loved my meals."
Xavier rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. "That's funny. I can't remember her ever mentioning a single one of them. I would think I would have heard of these amazing meals before now if they were as spectacular as you claim."
You could hear Calebs jaw click shut. This had gone far enough.
"Well, we better get going if we still want to get those seats."
"Yes, we plan on making use of those couples deals, aren't we?" Caleb smiled down at you, looking slightly forced.
"Well, I hope you both enjoy it." Xavier smiled between you and Caleb before settling on you. "Be sure to make the most of your only night with your...brother. I'll see you tomorrow night."
As Xavier continued his walk, you heard a crunching sound and looked to Caleb to see his jaw working furiously as he ground his teeth.
Prologue: As your brother, Caleb always took great pride in the fact that he was always the first to notice the little things when it came to you. When you were hurt, when you were sick, when you were lying or keeping a secret. What will Caleb do when he notices just how much his precious little adopted sister has grown? Can he fight the filthy, rotten feelings threatening to ruin all he holds dear?
(Caleb x Reader, no use of 'Y/N, AFAB reader, size difference.)
Every time he would swear that he was done, that it was the last time, you would do something that sent him spiralling out of control, his morals left in tatters.
He swore he would stop at merely admiring you from afar...but he didn't.
He swore he would stop after the pair of stolen knickers... but he didn't.
He swore he would stop after the feel of your luscious ass against him just once...but he didn't.
He swore he would stop after one glimpse of your pussy.... now he couldn't stop!
He was doomed and he knew it. He had promised himself to not blemish your purity in anyway but the way you had teased him tonight had snapped something inside of him.
Just like he knew you better than anyone else, you also knew him better than anyone else. And you knew exactly what would make him tick.
'It's not my fault this time.' He tells himself. 'She started it.'
He wasn't a complete monster, he felt immense guilt when you fled his presence the previous night to lock yourself in the bathroom. Giving you the space you clearly needed, he left, intending to come back an hour later to apologise when he heard those beautiful sounds. You were pleasuring yourself. Knowing that he had such an effect was incredible and pushed him further in madness. Solidifying his twisted reasoning.
A shrill ring of the landline telephone breaks him out of his internal monologue.
Grandma rises to her feet as quickly as she can before her hunched figure makes its way to the kitchen to answer the call.
He half-heartedly listens to Grandma talking quietly on the phone but most of his focus remains on you, curled up on the wingback chair. He can't help but smirk, seeing your gaze steadfastly focused on the floor in front of you, as if you're trying to look anywhere but him.
Grandma returns some minutes later, her handbag clutched in her hand.
"Where are you off to at this time of night?" He asks, Caleb's curiosity getting the better of him.
"Poor Mr Lee has had a fall." She shakes her head sadly. "Mrs Lee has asked me to accompany her to the hospital."
"Oh." Caleb hears you say simply.
Looking over, he notices you nervously fidgeting with the hem of your skirt.
'She seems scared...' He thinks to himself. 'Good.'
"I can drive you and Mrs Lee to the hospital." You quickly offer. Caleb can tell your only offering to get out of being left alone with him.
"Oh, sweetheart, thank you, but I'll be okay." Grandma says, already halfway out the front door. "You two don't stay up too late, okay?" And with that the front door clicks shut.
A deafening silence falls over the room. He decides to let you linger in it a little longer.
He watches as your eyes flick between the stairs and him, calculating.
"You never could outrun me, Pipsqueak." He chuckles. "But your more than welcome to try."
That seemed to be all the invitation you needed. You were on your feet in a flash and taking the stairs two at a time. Even though he knew he would get so much more enjoyment out of letting you think you had outrun him, only for him to catch you and shatter your hopes, he couldn't wait.
The second your feet touched that landing, he had you pinned up against his bedroom door, his lean chest pressed up against your back.
"Come." He says, opening the bedroom door and pushing you into his room. "I thinks it's time we had a little chat."
Sitting down on his bed, he pulls your struggling form onto his lap. His arms coming around to circle yours and pin them to your side.
Patiently, he waits for you to stop struggling and squirming. "Are you done."
You nod petulantly, realising you are no match for his strength.
Taking a deep breath, he begins.
"You always knew the most hurtful thing you could do to me is shut me out." He whispers in your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder. "I gave you the chance to talk to me like the adult you are, Mèimei. But instead you not only chose to give me the silent treatment but you teased me just to rub salt in the wound."
"I didn't...it..it was an...."
"Bup-bup-bup." He silences you. "Let me speak first."
"'Kay."
"Is this all because I didn't have time to give my girl the orgasm she deserved?" When he doesn't receive a response, he continues. "I did have plans to return the favour, kitten, if you'd had just been patient."
"Caleb...I..." You try to defend yourself. "I swear, I didn't flash you on purpose."
"But the silent treatment was intentional, wasn't it?"
You stay silent but he feels your head nodding against his in agreement.
"You know..." He begins, his fingertips from the arm that isn't holding your arms to side begins to slowly traces patterns on your upper thigh. "even as children, you were an absolute brat when you never got your way."
"No, I wasn't." You huff indignantly.
"Yes, you were." He continues. "Grandma could never see it, so she would never do anything about it. But I think your more than overdue for a lesson, wouldn't you agree?"
Caleb feels you stiffen but pays it no mind as he removes you from his lap and rises to his feet. He towers over you, your wide eyes stare back as you wait to see what he will do next. He decides to take a second to let you stew in your panic before turning you around and pushing you face first onto the bed. Your feet still planted on the floor beside it, tried to push back.
"Stop struggling." He grunts as he drapes himself over your back, his semi-erect dick against your ass and his lips against your ear. "Because we both know this excites you just as much as it does me."
He heard you sigh before your body went limp. He knew he was right, and clearly so did you.
"I have years worth of grievances to work out with you, Pipsqueak." He growled, one hand pinning your arms to the bed as the other trailed up your leg, under the hem of your dress. "And this won't be over until I've ensured you've paid your debt for every...single...one."
His hand rubbed across the globes of your ass, stopping every so often to squeeze a handful of the flesh.
He knew it was wrong, but he could no longer bring himself to feel guilt about sullying you. Because, he realised, as you pushed your ass wantonly against his wandering hand, he couldn't bruise you because you were already rotten. You were just as rotten as he was.
'Dear Diary...or however the hell your supposed to begin these stupid things.
I feel absolutely ridiculous and unsure of what to say.
I confided in Thomas earlier today that I'd hit a bit of a rut and haven't been able to complete any art pieces for the past week. His grand idea was to give me this stupid empty book and 'write my feelings and thoughts'. How the hell this is going to help me, I have no idea. That's usually what painting is for.
This feels like a counselling session where I'm supposed to find my own answers. Maybe I should just pay for a damn shrink and have them do the heavy lifting?
Anyways, the rut I currently find myself in is not due to a lack of effort, I'm painting constantly. Or at least I am attempting to.
No, the hurdle I find myself stuck on, I suppose, is the simple fact that the colours no longer hold the same vibrancy they once did.
I'll paint for hours just to have, what in my eyes, seems like nothing more than a bleak and desolate wasteland. Thomas seems happy with the pieces but I can't, in good conscience, sell what doesn't bring warmth to my own soul. I know they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but my eyes see no such thing in my own creations anymore.
I've only completed one piece recently that I can bear to look at. In fact, I've been staring at it for nearly the past hour.
But just as I get lost in its beauty, it simultaneously crushes my soul.
It's her eye as she stared off into the waves.
The way the waves crashing onto the sand, reflected in her eye, brings a warmth to my soul that I so desperately need.
Yet, they way she gazes at the sea, with no memories of how much it once meant to the both of us, is haunting.
Her eyes, as beautiful and vibrant as they are...they are empty.
There's no traces of me in them anymore and I can't bear it.
She sees me, but it's like she can't see all of me in the way she once did.
Even when I bring up that day on the beach, all those years ago, I receive nothing more than a blank stare, her eyes squinting in confusion. The promise she once made, completely forgotten.
That young girls eyes, so full of joy, wonder and kindness have been replaced...I have been replaced.
The memory of that young Lemurian whose life she saved that day...is gone.
The vows we made to each other, throughout our lifetimes...there's no trace of them anymore.
All she can see is the snobby painter she is paid to protect and the occasional friend/confidant she finds in me when she needs me.
I've tried to my best to come to terms with this and be what she needs in this lifetime but I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt.
Over the centuries, she took me pieces of me everytime we parted ways but I can't find those pieces in her gaze.
Where are they?
And more importantly....Where is she?'
Note: I'm still working on tagging people who joined the taglist but the user names just don't seem to be popping. Please bear with me 💜
Prologue: As Colonel, a riding crop is part of the uniform but when Caleb sees you admiring his recently purchased swagger stick things quickly become heated.
💜 My first attempt at a full-blown s3x scene, so please let me know what you think. 💜
P.S: Consider this an extra warning, there is A LOT of mentions of female ejaculation in this....like A ALOT! This is pure filth! You have been warned.
Notes: Female Reader, No use of 'Y/N, porn with feelings.
TW: Pseudo-incest, Use of riding crop, D/s tones, Possessive Caleb, Inappropriate use of a riding crop, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, humiliation, use of 'Gēge', Inappropriate use of evol, dacryphilia, clit spanking, overstimulation, squirting
You could hear the sound your breathing starting to come in fast, shallow pants.
'Was this guy fucking serious?' You thought to yourself in disbelief.
"Unless you don't want to come tonight..." He said, starting to pull away the handle of the crop.
You hand shot out to grasp it and with a gulp you slowly pull it back to rest against your pussy once more.
"That's my big, brave girl." He cooed. "Show Gēge how desperate you are."
Slowly, your moved your hips back and forth, unable to stop the moan that tumbled out.
Your clit was extra sensitive from the beating it had received and the long, leather covered shaft was nudging at that perfect spot. As you grew more confident, your hips began to rock quicker and press down harder. You could feel your orgasm approaching almost embarrassingly quickly.
"Ah, Caleb, fuck!" You moaned breathlessly, as the coil that had formed in your lower abdomen snapped, making your legs shake as you continued to grind against the stiff implement.
Eventually, you began to slow you pace, your orgasm making you even more sensitive to the point where it was becoming too much.
You felt the crop being pulled away and heard it land on the table. You looked up to see Caleb looking back down at you, an absolutely feral look in his eyes, as he ripped off his gloves and discarded them next to the cane.
Next thing you know, you were roughly pushed onto your back on the floor. Calebs hand coming up behind your head just in time to stop it from smacking on the ground.
"Again." He growled into your neck. "I need to hear you come with my name on your lips again."
His fingers quickly found you clit and began rubbing furiously, his teeth latching onto your neck so hard, straddling the line between pain and pleasure.
Bringing his fingers under your clitoral hood to find that incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves, he pushed his fingers against it just hard enough to make you want to scream.
Caleb growled and groaned into your throat as another orgasm washed over you but he didn't let up.
"Caleb, I..."
"Trust me." He said, keeping your body pinned beneath his much larger frame as he continued quickly rubbing back and forth.
Tears began to streak down your cheeks and a sob broke out. It was too much. You couldn't take it. Your toes had begun to curl and your back arched so far you thought you would snap it half. A cold, heavy sensation settled in the pit of your stomach when suddenly you felt something break.
"That's it, take what I give you."
Your sob turned into a silent scream as your whole body began to shake and spurts of warm liquid covered your ass.
"I told you." Caleb began to chuckle in your ear, his fingers still rubbing you through these new sensations. "I knew it! I knew you'd be a squirter."
His fingers eventually fell from your clit and you lay in the puddle on the dining room floor, twitching, as tears continued to stream down your face.
"Ready for more?" He smiled, sitting back on his heels to take in your dishevelled state.
You shake your head through the sobs and pants and rise to you hands and knees to crawl away.
"Oh, no, you don't." You heard Caleb say, feeling his hand latch around your ankle and drag you back across the now wet hardwood floor. "I promised you all the orgasms you could handle, kitten. The fact that your still concious means I haven't fulfilled my end of the deal."
He flips you over onto your stomach and spreads your thighs but your too weak to put up a fight.
"Now that I've got you right where I want you, you won't be going anywhere." He informed you, two fingers slowly pressing against the entrance of your pussy.
Letting out a small moan, you slowly push back against his fingers, feeling them slide into you.
"See, little one?" You could hear the smirk in his voice as he began to pump his fingers in and out. "You don't want me to stop, either."
What begins as slow and steady suddenly changes when his fingers hit that spongy g-spot on your front wall. Before you can even register what is happening, his fingers inside you hook and rub fast against your g-spot as his thumb finds your overly sensitive clit.
"No...no..." You whine pathetically, as that new, cold and heavy sensation settled in the pit of your stomach once more.
"Yes...yes...yes" He whined back, mocking you as his fingers continued their relentless pace.
You felt his legs come to rest on your extended ones, pinning you to the floor before you could even think of trying to get away.
Your eyes rolled back and you succumbed to the feeling, knowing it was useless to fight against it.
Caleb let out a long groan. "Fuck! Yes!" He growled victoriously as you convulsed, wave after wave of warm liquid squirting out of you.
Soon, his fingers slowed to a halt and you feel his clothed chest against your naked back.
"Still awake?" A voiced murmured in your ear and you couldn't stop the small laugh that escaped.
"Hmmm, am I even alive?" You groan, making Caleb let out a hearty chuckle.
"Oh, I'm going to make sure you feel very alive." He responds, leaning back, his legs still sitting on yours and keeping you trapped.
Unable to find the energy to lift your head, you hear a rustle of fabric and the sound of a zipper. As exhausted as you are, you can't help but bite your lip in excitement.
"Sweetheart." His voice returns to your ear in a gentle whisper as you feel the blunt head of his cock rub between your folds. "I just need to make sure..."
"Yes, Caleb, please." You cut him off. "I want you."
Pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, you feel the head of his cock push in. You gasp and let out a little whimper. He's big! Bigger than you imagined.
"Just breath, baby." He whispers, rocking slowly back and forth, the head of his cock getting deeper on each thrust until...
"Mmmm." You both moan in unison and the head of his cock fully breaches you.
"That's it, baby, you took it so well." He says, peppering kisses on your cheek as you slowly thrusts deeper until he bottoms out.
You groan and dig your nails into the floor. You're so full that it's nearly painful.
Agonisingly slowly, he pulls out. Just as your lulled into a false sense of security, his hips snap forward harshly, knocking the air out of your lungs.
He chuckles darkly from behind you, his rhythm starting to increase in both speed and force.
You moan, unable to move but just lie there and take his cock.
"So tight." He hisses through clenched teeth. "So hot and wet. Fuck! You're perfect. The perfect little fuck, aren't you?"
"Caleb." You whine as the head of his cock strikes that sweet spot over and over again that has your eyes rolling back.
"Taking your Gēge's cock like you were built for it." His hips slap against your ass, the lewd sounds echo around the room.
His arms snakes around you hip, his fingers finding your clit, making you jolt.
"I feel it..." He groans, panting desperately as he snaps his cock into you at a furious pace. "I feel you clenching. Gonna milk me dry, yeah?"
Unable to speak, you nod dumbly, you're body jolting with his thrusts.
Your abdomen begins to clench as you feel those tell-tale waves spreading, suddenly crashing into you and drowning you
"That's it, take me there with you." You feel his whole body shudder and his cock twitch before you feel a gush of warmth spill inside of you.
Suddenly, you're pushed further against the floor as his body weight falls on top of you.
"I'm not crushing you, am I?" He pants into you ear with a slight, breathless laugh.
"No." You mumble back, lacking the energy to speak any louder.
His arms come to wrap around you and the two of you moan as his cock slips out of your warmth.
You feel his come leak out of your pussy, dirpping over your clit and to the floor.
You feel Caleb slowly sit up, taking his weight off of you and you groan at the loss of contact.
"I don't have the energy to get up." You whine.
"Well, luckily for you, you don't have to walk." And with that, Caleb flips you onto your back and scoops you up into his arms, bridal style.
"Where are we going?" You're head flops uselessly against his chest, you have no energy to even lift it.
"We...are going for a bath." He tells you with a kiss to the top of your head. "And then we are going for another round."
Shocked that he has anything more left in the tank, you look up at him.
"Remember, baby, so long as you're still concious means I haven't fulfilled my end of the deal." He chuckles with a wink. "And I pride myself in being a man of my word."
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