requested ♡ needy–pathetic–whiney!caleb x overstimulated f!reader
cw : overstimulation, pussy drunk caleb, multiple orgasms, unprotected intercourse, creampíes, ovulation mention, both are at it like rabbits
a/n : I'm a strong believer of caleb seeing sex as something spiritual. that man would be drunk into your pussy forever if it's possible 🧘🏽♀️🫡
You don’t even remember how many times you’ve done it at this point.
You’re trembling under him, legs spread wide as your thighs twitch uncontrollably. Sweat glistens across your skin, the sheets soaked beneath your ass as your body writhes from the overstimulation. Caleb’s cock is still buried deep inside you, twitching, throbbing, refusing to soften even after he’s cum twice.
You’re not the only one suffering. No. Caleb’s worse.
Much, much worse.
He’s hunched over you, forehead pressed to your chest, lips parted in a string of pathetic little whimpers as he rocks his hips into you helplessly, like he physically can’t stop. His entire body is trembling, from his strong arms planted on either side of your head, to his thick thighs caging you in as they quake with every slow, shallow thrust.
“Baby—fuck, please—” he gasps, voice breaking. “I-I can’t—can’t take it anymore—”
“You’re still hard,” you breathe, voice raspy from crying out so much. “Still so thick, still so deep inside me, Caleb…”
He chokes on a moan, his hips stuttering. “You’re so warm, baby—shit—y’keep pulling me back in like that, I—” his voice turns into a whimper, high-pitched and desperate, “I’m gonna cum again—I can’t—please—!”
You cup his flushed, tear-streaked face with both hands, forcing him to look you in the eyes. His purple irises are glossy and unfocused, pupils blown wide as he pants open-mouthed, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.
“Caleb,” you coo softly, thumbing at his damp cheek, “you’re being so needy tonight…”
His bottom lip trembles, his hips involuntarily grinding into your soaked, overstimulated pussy as he cries out.
“I know,” he croaks, voice cracking as he hides his face in your neck. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I can’t stop—I need you, baby—I need to be inside you—need to feel you—need to hear you cry—fuck, please, pipsqueak, I’m losing my mind—”
Your core clenches around him at the sound of his wrecked voice. “Aw, poor thing,” you murmur, clenching around him on purpose, and he screams into your neck, entire body spasming as his hips jerk wildly.
His cock pulses inside you, twitching with another orgasm that never ends. His nails dig into the pillow next to your head as he sobs, tears dripping onto your skin.
You’re overstimulated. Raw. Shaking. But his cock doesn’t soften. If anything, it throbs harder.
“Oh my god, Caleb…” you whimper, gripping his waist with both hands. “You’re still hard? You’re… you’re fucking insatiable.”
He lets out a pathetic cry, thrusting slowly, helplessly, like an animal in heat.
“You were—were ovulating, right?” he whispers, delirious, “I just… wanted to make sure… your body was satisfied…”
You grab his jaw and kiss him—sloppy, rough, tongue and teeth, your body arching into his. He moans into your mouth, hips still rolling. Still. Still. The man’s dick is possessed.
“God, you’re a mess,” you pant, pulling away from the kiss to wipe his tears with your thumbs. “My big, strong colonel all needy and whimpering because my pussy feels too good?”
His breath hitches, and suddenly he’s bucking into you faster. His brain is melting. He’s so overstimulated, he can’t even form sentences anymore.
“Let go,” you whisper in his ear. “Just fall apart, baby. Be my desperate little mess.”
And he does. He shatters.
He cums again, harder than any time before, his whole body curling around yours like he’ll die if you let him go. His voice breaks on a sob, hips stuttering, mind gone. His legs finally give out and he collapses on top of you, cock twitching weakly inside your soaked cunt.
You stroke his back as he trembles in your arms, lips brushing his ear.
“You feel better now, colonel?”
He mumbles something that sounds like "I saw god" and you giggle, still clenching gently around his cock.
You feel him shudder. And just like that—he’s hard again.
this probably wasn’t the best idea. not when his fever hadn’t gone down — his temperature not dropping even after taking an absurd amount of pills prescribed by the doctor.
but there’s just something about him that’s so… captivating about him lying in bed — cheeks flushed with a shade of red, his hot, heavy breathing — the way he has to keep you close at all times even while he’s sick. it’s the way he needed you so badly that turned you on, even when he’s in this condition.
“you’re going to overexert yourself, caleb.” you said, running your hand over his chest. “you need to rest.”
“need you right now, pips’..” he breathed, breath coming out short with need. “can’t wait any longer..” and he was telling the truth. the proof was right there — the outline of his hard cock visible through his sweatpants.
“are you sure?” you asked, straddling his lap once he nodded. he gulped, watching you pull down the waistband of his sweatpants, freeing his absurdly large cock from his underwear. “you’re so needy, baby.” you said, your thumb swiping over his tip that was already leaking with pre-cum, eliciting a whimper from him.
holding yourself up on your knees, you placed his tip over your already dripping cunt, smearing his pre-cum on your entrance before sinking down on him. “fuck, pips’.. you’re so warm..” his hands automatically found their place on your hips as you bottomed out, tip kissing your cervix. “f—fuck, you’re so big, caleb.. always giving me a h—hard time.”
then when you placed both hands on his chest and started moving, bouncing on his cock, it just felt so good — especially when his body temperature was burning hot. sweat dripped down his forehead, wetting the pillow under him, hands anchored tightly on your hips. just the sight of him like this was enough to send you over the edge.
your mewls mixed with his grunts and needy whimpers, the absurdly obscene squelching noises and skin slapping being the loudest sound in the room. “oh my god, caleb—you feel s—so good—ah!” your thighs felt strained, legs too shaky to continue bouncing up and down his cock. so he did the thrusting for you, even while he’s sick. just where did this this guy get his ridiculous stamina from?
“caleb—ahh! i’m so close—so close, baby—“ your breath was uneven, voice filled with need as your legs gave out, your body collapsing forward on his chest. “‘m close too baby—gonna cum with you—“ he choked out in between groans.
“inside—inside me, caleb—! need you inside—nnh!”
you didn’t have to tell him twice before you felt that familiar warm liquid spilling inside of you right after.
bestfriend ؛ caleb secretly jerking off to your pretty voice
he’s sprawled on his bed, the sensual darkness of the room and the glow of his phone casting shadows as he scrolls to your name, his thumb hesitating before hitting call.
his other hand’s already in his sweatpants, gripping his already hard cock just thinking about you, he shouldn’t want this but badly does.
“hey!” you light voice crackling through the phone, and it hits him like a spark, his breath hitching, hand moving slow, stroking himself, his eyes fluttering shut.
“miss me already, caleb? It’s barely been a week.” your tone’s teasing, unaware of the effect you’re having, and he groans softly, low, trying to keep it quiet, his heart racing.
“fuck, yeah, i miss you,” he says, voice a little strained, his hand moving faster, the sound of your voice making him throb, his hips shifting on the bed.
“been thinkin’ about you, pipsqueak,” he adds, his breath obviously uneven as he strokes the thick of his tip, slowly shamelessly imagining your face.
you laugh softly, the sound sending a jolt through him, his grip tightening, groans muffled as he presses the phone closer to his ear.
“aw, caleb, you’re so sweet,” you say, and he can hear you moving, maybe settling on your couch, the faint rustle of fabric making him picture you, relaxed, unaware of how you’re unraveling him.
“what’s got you all acting like that? miss my pretty face or something?” he bites his lip, his hand moving faster, cock leaking, his breath hitching, a low, whiny groan slipping out before he can stop it.
“shit, you have no idea.” he mutters, almost a growl, his eyes squeezed shut, your voice painting vivid images in his mind.
“caleb, you okay?” you ask, his voice sounded wrong, too wrong. “you sound… weird. you good over there?”
“yeah, im—im fine.” his breathe hitched, his hand never stopping, the sound of your voice pushing him closer.
“just—keep talkin’ pipsqueak, please?” he says, his hips shifting more as his cock throbbed under his hand, your voice the only thing he needs right now.
he lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down, and you moan at the feeling of having him inside of you. he pushes forward a bit more, stretching you even more and you can feel yourself flutter around him.
“relax for me, baby, you're so tight” he says, his voice low, he slowly pulls out before starting to push back in, “fuck, you're squeezing my cock i can't even…fuck,” he's having trouble speaking, trouble keeping his words even.
you're both breathing heavy as he starts to set a pace. it's slow at first, because you need time to get used to the feeling of him. then his fingers find your clit, rubbing small circles, and your getting used to his size, he can feel you relax, can feel you open up for him and he's able to slip forward the last few inches so that he's completely buried inside of you.
“what, baby?” he asks, it's sort of rhetorical but you respond anyways.
“can't…s’too much,” you whimper. you both know that’s not true, but no matter how many times you have sex, it’s still a large adjustment to his size. “fuck, caleb, you’re so big…”
you fuel his ego, his cock throbs at the praise. he humors you, “you can take it.”
he pulls out slowly, making sure you feel every inch, every vein. when you let out a noise of disapproval at the boss of him he's smirking down at you and sliding back in.
“see? look at you, you're doing so good for me,” he says, and the praise goes straight to your clit, which he slowly starts to circle with his fingers again. he leans down, breath fanning out against your ear, “love the way you feel around me. this pretty pussy was made for me.”
i’m about to say something very, very wild and nobody should be surprised. no shame. i need this.
caleb likes when you jerk him off with your panties wrapped around his cock. you’d be laid flat on your back with him between your legs, looking up at his pathetic expression with so much adoration because he’s so infatuated with you.
he likes when you stop every time he’s about to come. loves when you temporarily soothe the ache deep inside of him with sweet kisses each time he leans down, seeking comfort in your embrace. his body would be weak with the need to finish, cheeks stained with pleasure fueled tears, and face flushed.
when you repeat that process for the final time, it’s only because he can’t hold it in anymore. it’s impossible. so he’ll curse and weep for you, his muscles tensing as he shoots his thick and hot load onto your pussy to watch it trail down your slit.
your panties? ruined.
then your fingers will gather his cum, using it to help you get your clit wetter than it already is. along with the mix of your slick, you create a sticky mess all over your cunt as he watches, breathless. hungry.
oh…he’ll beg you so desperately. he’ll cry forever to convince you to let him push it all inside of you with his sensitive dick.
and of course, you tell him he can. so long as he sucks his cum off your fingers and keeps your panties in his mouth when he fucks you.
thinking about sylus hovering over you while he’s fingering you oh my gosh
he‘s so much bigger than you, in every freaking sense. his broad shoulders block everything surrounding you, his back covers your torso so easily and his fingers – oh his fingers – pumping in and out of you in such a leisurely manner and yet with so much force.
he‘s smirking too, of course he is. he loves having you at his mercy and even more than that, he loves making you feel absolutely divine.
your body reacts to every drag of his fingers and he‘s drinking it up like he‘s absolutely starved. every now and then his thumb brushes against your swollen clit and you gasp, blood rushing in your ears.
„you take my fingers so well.“ he‘d praise, pressing gentle kisses to the soft and supple skin of your inner thighs in absolute contrast to his long and thick fingers pressing against your warm walls.
and he can always tell when you‘re close. your breath hitches, your thighs start to shake and you cling to him, grabbing for anything and everything that you can hold onto because it‘s just so much.
when he‘s feeling generous he gladly leans down and gingerly licks at your clit, easily sending you over the edge and sylus absolutely revels in the feeling of your walls constricting around his fingers, like they‘re trying to trap him.
when he‘s feeling a bit meaner he chooses to slow down again, coaxing lovely whimpers and whines out of your swollen lips. „not yet, kitten.“ he‘ll whisper and you‘ll have no choice but to take whatever he gives you, until he‘s had enough.
★pairing: xavier x fem!reader
★wc: 2.5k
★content: xavier takes care of you through ovulation pain and ovulation horny (horny only dealt with after the pain has passed). 18+ smut: breeding/ovulation kink, oral (f receiving), piv, multiple orgasms, creampie, possessive xavier. nicknames for reader: starlight, baby, love. nicknames for xavier: bunny, baby.
★a/n: this was a cathartic comfort piece that descended into pure smut. if I had a nickel for every time I wrote a fic for xavier that turned horny halfway through-
★masterlist
“Oh fuck,” you hiss, doubling over in pain as it shoots through your abdomen.
You don’t even have time to blink before Xavier is by your side, hand pressed over where you clutch at yourself.
“What’s wrong?” His words rush out, leaning down to try and catch your gaze. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I—” you break off with a hiss, leaning back over the moment you try and straighten yourself. “Fuck. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Your eyes flash up to his, wide-eyed and panicked as fear at the sudden pain flares to life.
“Xavier, I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, easing you back onto your sofa, helping you find a comfortable position—which results in you leaning almost all the way forward, bent over your knees, head between them. “It could be your appendix. Have you had issues with it before? I’ll call the hospital—”
“Wait,” you interrupt, reaching out to tug him back. He immediately sits beside you, holding your hand securely in his. “What day is it?”
When you look up at him, he’s blinking, head tilted in confusion.
“Tuesday?” he answers slowly, brows furrowing.
“No.” You shake your head with a little laugh, wincing as the pain pinches again. It’s less stabbing in this position, more cramping, and starting to feel familiar. “My cycle. Can you bring up your calendar?”
Xavier’s eyes widen in understanding, scrambling to pull his phone out of his pocket.
“I think it’s too early for your period,” he mumbles, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he taps on his screen to bring up the calendar. He's no stranger to your painful cramps, even if it's never hit you so suddenly with no bleeding before.
He scrolls through the calendar for his little reminder of the day your period starts, marked simply by your initials and a star emoji.
“No, not that.”
You point at the start of your last period, following down through the weeks to find yourself at about 14 days from it today.
“Okay,” you sigh in relief, leaning back on the couch.
“What?” Xavier looks at you, then back at today’s date, then up at you again. “I don’t understand.”
You laugh a little, endeared by his little pout when you do.
“Two weeks,” you explain, pointing at the date with your finger again. When he still looks confused, you lay it out simply, “I’m ovulating, Xavier. It’s ovulation pain.”
But he’s already tuning out the moment you say ovulating, cheeks slowly tinting a dark pink.
“Oh.”
His mouth opens, and closes. You press your free hand not clutching your abdomen to your mouth, stifling a giggle, but his pout deepens at the little sound that escapes you anyway.
For all the effort he put into tracking your PMS, your period itself, your mood changes and all your symptoms, he hadn’t thought to check when you were ovulating?
“No wonder I’ve been extra horny lately,” you mumble to yourself, and he coughs.
“I—” Clearing his throat, he looks back at you, and down to your hand on your stomach. You can see him focusing back in slowly, even though he’s still blushing. So fucking cute. “I didn’t know it hurt?”
“Sometimes.” You shrug, cupping his cheek when he frowns in concern up at you. He presses his palm to your hand, nuzzling into your touch with those big blue eyes. “Not always. But it tends to happen on the same side for me, so I usually recognize it. It just…took me by surprise this time.”
Xavier pulls your hand back from his cheek, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm. He kisses up your forefinger, then the middle, nipping playfully at the tip of your ring one, and you giggle.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, rubbing at the dull, pinching pain. You still didn’t dare to move much, not wanting to trigger another spike. “Can you get the heating pad?”
“Sure thing, love,” he murmurs sweetly, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before he’s off to the cupboard where you keep most of your arsenal of period supplies.
“Need anything else?” he calls as you hear him rifling through it.
“I don't think so,” you answer, watching as he comes back into the living room, plugging the heating pad into the outlet and switching it on before placing it on your tummy.
You sigh in relief when the heat slowly begins to sink in, relaxing back into the sofa.
“Thank you, bunny,” you whisper, lips meeting his in a kiss. And then another, slow and sweet, nose nuzzling against his.
He hums, kissing the tip of your nose, then buries his face in your neck. Xavier curls himself around you, rubbing gently at your stomach through the heating pad.
“Anything for you, my starlight.”
You’re both quiet for a while, sinking into each other, enjoying the shared body heat. Time drifts past, and you're lazy and content in each other's arms, the brief moment of pain passing while you snuggle your boyfriend.
He rests on top of you, head on your chest. Your hand rubs over his back, slipping under his hoodie and t-shirt to scratch lightly at his skin, and you smile as he makes soft noises of content. You're almost certain he's fallen asleep from the peaceful moment—you know you're about to doze off yourself.
Then he asks, softly, “Do you want me to…track it?”
“Hm?” you hum, half-asleep from the cozy cuddling.
“When you…ovulate.” His voice rasps a little when he says it. You think it’s unintentional, but it still sends a little shiver through you. His grip on you tightens when you do. “Do you want me to track it?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t already, honestly.”
Xavier shrugs, burying his face further against your neck. You card your fingers through his hair, and he hums happily.
“I…wasn’t sure if it was okay to pay attention to it.”
“You could’ve just asked me.” You sigh fondly, giving a little tug at the ends of his hair, and he jerks with a quiet grunt. “Silly bunny.”
You can feel him smile against your skin, right before he snuggles closer into you.
“So, is it…?”
“Yes, Xavier.” You press a kiss to the top of his head, smiling against his fluffy hair, almost golden in the late afternoon light that filters through your curtains. “You can track when I ovulate.”
He lets out a shuddering breath. “Okay.”
The tension is palpable as you both fall quiet again.
More time passes, and you feel more and more restless, panties damp just from the thought of him knowing what your body needed right now. You wiggle a little, testing to see if any pain lingered, and sigh in relief when you feel it’s gone completely, the moment long passed.
“Xavier,” you whine, nosing along the skin behind his ear. Your teeth graze along the sensitive lobe when he jerks forward with a little moan, holding you tighter as you bite down gently. Your voice is husky when you ask, “Does that turn you on? Knowing that I'm ovulating?”
He sighs shakily, gripping at your waist.
“Are you still in pain?”
You grin wickedly, even if he can't see it. “Nope. Not for a while.”
He breathes out in relief. “Okay. Good.”
You’re flat on your back in an instant, your sweet boyfriend gazing down at you with that familiar, darkening look.
Your thighs squeeze together, and his palms slide down, gently parting them.
“Oh, baby,” he sighs, eyeing the wet patch that had managed to seep through your comfortable, thin lounge shorts. “Already?”
You bite your lip, and his hand comes up behind your head on the armrest, towering over you with all the carefully contained, hidden power you were so obsessed with.
“I told you I've been horny.” You can’t help but smirk at the way his flush darkens at that. “All I’ve been able to think about for days is you fucking me stupid.”
Xavier sucks in a breath, already tugging down your shorts and panties in one strong yank.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he nearly whines, lowering himself down your body, pressing sloppy kisses to your stomach when you nudge the now obsolete heating pad out of the way, switching it off. “I would’ve given it to you. I would’ve kept us home from work and fucked you all day and night until you were full of my cum. Until it—”
He cuts himself off, peering up at you uncertainly, his lips grazing against your hip bone.
“Say it,” you breathe, hips jerking up, nearly brushing your dripping pussy against his lips, and he licks his watering mouth at the near contact. “Please.”
“Fuck,” Xavier groans, sucking your wet folds into his mouth. He lets them go with an obscene pop just as quickly, and you whine. “I would’ve filled you until it took.”
“Yes,” you whimper, head tilting back with a moan of relief when his tongue descends on you, licking up your entrance and flicking across your clit with expert precision, learned from an intimate knowledge of your body alone. “Please.”
“That's what you want, isn't it?”
His words tease you as much as his mouth, the vibrations of his sinful promises just as mind numbingly good as his tongue thrusting into your tight, needy hole. He licks along your walls, and you tremble under him, feeling his moan deep inside you when you clench around his tongue.
“You want me to breed you until you’re all mine,” he gasps when he pulls back for air, "don’t you?”
You don't answer right away, lost in the pleasure, and squeak when he gently pinches your ass.
“Tell me, love,” he commands gently, soft voice dark as sin, and your thighs tremble. “Use your words.”
“Yes," you gasp, hips rolling up into his ravenous mouth. “Yes, Xavier, fuck.”
Your fingers tighten in his hair, and he moans, tongue licking back up to your clit to suck it into his mouth. He hums in content as he circles it with the tip, then rubs it with the flat of his tongue, back and forth.
“Yours,” you whimper, refusing to look away from how drunk he was on the taste of you, his lashes fluttering at your words. "I'm already yours.”
“Mine,” he pants, dark eyes meeting yours. He shakes his head from side to side, the flat of his tongue rubbing your clit at a pace that makes your toes curl, breathing heavily through his nose. His possessive words are slurred against your cunt, “You're all fucking mine.”
Your mouth falls open, higher pitched moans escaping you as your orgasm hits you hard and fast.
God, you loved coming at this time of month. It always came so much easier, and felt so much deeper, consuming, even without being filled.
But Xavier planned on making good of his promise.
He gives one more suck to your overstimulated clit, kissing it before leaning back on his heels. His thumbs hook into his sweatpants, tugging them down with his boxers, and you only have a moment to appreciate how hard and flushed his pretty, thick cock is before it’s disappearing into your folds.
“Too much?” He pants out, hips stilling a few inches inside your cunt when you let out a quiet cry.
“No,” you whimper, reaching out for him, nails digging into his muscular thigh. “More, Xavier. Need you to fuck me, need to be full of you.”
You lose any coherent thought as he slams into you to bottom out in one full stroke. And, oh, the filthy things that soft voice could say as he begins fucking you in earnest.
“—so beautiful, my love, god you’re so—hah, so wet. Taking me so well, your pussy’s sucking me in like she wants me to live inside you.”
The couch creaks with each powerful thrust, nearly scraping back against the floor, and you have just enough of a moment of clarity to feel bad for your neighbors. But then Xavier’s cock hits a spot inside you just right, and you don’t care anymore if they all hear you screaming his name to the heavens.
Just the passing thought of them knowing how good their quiet, sleepy neighbor fucks you is enough to make you clench around him, pulling a moan from his throat.
“Please,” you beg, legs hooking around his waist, and he tugs you closer until your hips are flush together, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each quick, shallow thrust. “Cum inside me Xavier, please, please, want you to fill me up.”
“I’ll fill you up,” he groans out, lifting your hips as he snaps his own into them. “You’ll be dripping with me for days, starlight. On the subway, in the office, everywhere we go you’ll still be stuffed with my cum—”
“Oh fuck I’m gonna cum!”
“Please,” Xavier whimpers, leaning forward to press kisses along your neck, sucking bruises into your skin. “Wanna breed you, fuck you again and again until you’re having my—”
“Xavier!” you cry out, seeing stars as white hot pleasure blooms through you when you come for the second time.
You can feel the pressure of his hand in yours, fingers curling tightly together as his cock pulses and floods you with hot spurts of his cum.
“Take it,” Xavier pants against your ear, moaning and mouthing at your skin. “Take it, fuck, need you to take it until I get you all knocked up for me.”
“Xav,” you whine, tugging at his hair when the overstimulation begins to kick in.
His thrusts slow, weak rolls of his hips to get every last rope of cum as deep into your pussy as it can be, before he collapses on top of you.
“Too—” he pauses, gasping for breath, and you soothe your hands down over his back, letting him sink his weight into you, until he was practically a weighted blanket. “Too much?”
“Mm, no,” you hum, nudging his chin up to admire his blissed out face. Your lips meet his in a lazy kiss, whining when just the simple act of affection has him twitching inside you again. “Just enough.”
He kisses you a few more times before pushing himself up, slowly pulling out of you. His fingers catch the glob of his cum that spills out, slowly pushing it back into your puffy, soaked cunt.
Xavier smirks in that dark, satisfied look as you watch the possessive action with a whine.
“Same time next month, starlight?” he asks breathlessly, cheeky in that endearing playfulness and too damn proud of himself.
You snort, gently swatting his shoulder.
“Yeah,” you sigh, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before he stands, his half-hard, cum-slicked dick still out as he moves to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth to clean you up. You're in for a full day of loving attention and cuddles now, and you smile. “See you then, baby.”
taglist: comment here if you want to be added! blank blogs will be blocked
⭐️Xavier fics @itsmysmut @santaluna @onigiriinthecorner
💖all fics: @frostbitten-cherry @asiatic-apple @heartyluv @floatinginaer @sweetcalebb @princessofenkanomiya @lazygelpen @deepspacebunnieblue @cherryartchaos @kireeen @stargirlygirl
Fresh out of the shower, the world’s tiniest towel clinging to his waist, water running down his body in rivets and… oh he’s so hard. The towel pokes out almost comically.
Of course he’s snapping pictures of the sight, arm extended all the way to his right as he snaps photos of his dripping wet torso, annoyingly small waist, and massive hard on. Each one getting sent right to you.
And you? You’re lying in bed, jaw hanging open as picture after picture comes in. You can’t even be mad at him for it. Hell you’re more upset at the fact that you’re alone in your bed in Linkon and he’s bricked up in the N109 Zone.
“Couldn’t stop thinking about you, kitten.”
You swear you can hear the seductive purr of his voice as you read the message. “Quit leaving me on read, say something. I see you viewing each one.” And you’re struggling to swallow the lump in your throat.
“You’re a devil, Sylus.” You shift uncomfortably, suddenly too hot, wearing too many layers, your body aches. “You must be pretty needy to be that hard.” You follow up quickly, contemplating how bad of an idea it would be to get out of bed and drive to his place.
Really? Answering the late night booty call of the leader of Onychinus. You’ve lost it… a long time ago. Your legs are swinging over the side of your bed as he types.
“Course I am. Always need for you, kitten.” You groan, rummaging for your overnight bag as he types something else. “Kept thinking about you in the shower with me.” You’re already drafting the message you’ll send Jenna in the morning. A headache… no, a migraine. Can’t come in.
“What was I doing to you in the shower?” You smiled as you grabbed the bag, you already had it packed just in case. You always kept it packed because Sylus’ schedule was so wishy washy that if you wanted him? You needed to be ready to drop everything at any given moment.
This went for more than just sex of course.
“Nothing, it was everything I was doing to you that got me so worked up.” Your knees nearly went weak, feeling like a newborn dear as you stumbled to your living room.
“Keep those thoughts to yourself, memorize them even. I’ll be there soon, you can demonstrate in person” your bike helmet in one hand, your bag slung over your shoulder, and your keys jingling as you left your apartment.
“Fuck, I love you so much. Drive safe, I’ll be waiting, kitten.” You couldn’t move fast enough at that point. Your entire body lit on fire as anticipation fuels your movement.
where, admittedly, you were a little nervous to try it, because you’ve seen the porn. it’s always two men using a woman for their pleasure only, where she is the side character, the object to be used.
but, it’s sylus and zayne so of course it’s the complete opposite.
it starts with them between your legs. they’re taking their time with you, both savoring everything you have to offer them. you’ve never had two men eating you out before but your legs are shaking in pleasure as they both tongue at your clit. zayne’s fingers are pumping in and out, curving to hit just the right spot while sylus sucks your clit into his mouth, the both of them working together to make your back arch off the bed, to pull the most lewd noises from you.
you don’t know where, or who, to grab, fingers alternating between sylus’ hair and zayne’s. they make you cum like that, both of them on their knees in front of where you’re spread out on the bed. the orgasm makes you see stars, you have to close your legs and push them both away because they’re greedy, and they keep licking into you even though you’re hyper sensitive.
eventually, it’s sylus who breaks first, needing to be inside of you. zayne obliges, moving to the other side of the bed so that sylus can flip you over pulling your ass in the air as he sinks in.
“sylus,” you moan, his cock spreading you open, and his pace is relentless as he fucks you from behind, his hips connecting hard with your ass on every single thrust. he's trying he very best to make sure you feel him deep inside of you.
“does it feel good, baby? does my cock feel good?” he asks, his voice husky with pleasure. you whimper in response nodding your head, arching your back more for him, knowing he loves the view of your ass like that.
you catch sight of zayne then, just as hard as sylus and almost on reflex, you open your mouth, waiting for him to get close enough to take him into your mouth, you feel like you're practically drooling for it. he comes to the edge of the bed, climbing up and kneeling in front of you, moaning softly as you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling around the head.
zayne’s cock is in your mouth, his fingers in your hair. he’s guiding you gently, helping you bob on him and sylus still pounding into you, your entire body is alight. it's as if the only thoughts in your head are the two men with you.
“good job, pretty girl,” sylus’ praise fills your ears, “that’s it, take his cock into your perfect little mouth,” he says, picking up his rhythm, his hips snapping quicker against you.
a muffled, “mmmf!” leaves your mouth, unable to talk around zayne’s dick.
you look up just enough to see zayne’s jaw go slack in pleasure, and whispered, “fuck,” leaving his mouth.
“she's doing so well,” he says, and you realize he's talking to sylus, who grunts in response. the idea that they’re having a conversation right now would be hilarious to you if you weren’t con the brink of another orgasm. you can only moan, sending vibrations up zayne’s cock, it pulls his attention to you, “aren’t you?” he says, looking down at you now, watching as you bob up and down on him, “you’re doing so well,” he moans deeply, “you love this, don’t you?”
“i think she does,” sylus answers for you, “can feel her getting tighter.” he pulls almost all the way out, slowly pushing back in so that you can feel every inch of him, a muffled whimper leaves your mouth. “are you gonna cum again, kitten?”
you’re fluttering around him when he suddenly pulls out, and you gasp at the sudden loss of him. “wouldn’t be fair if i didn’t share,” he says. you watch as he swaps with zayne, who quickly flips you onto your back, spreading your legs wide before he pushes inside of you with a groan.
in this new position, zayne brushes your clit with his pelvis on every thrust, and you can feel your toes curl at the sensation. then, sylus is next to you, he taps the tip of his cock against your lips a few times before he slowly lets you take him into your mouth.
“god, fuck,” zayne says through gritted teeth. you feel him throb inside of you, once, twice, three times and then the warmth of him spilling inside of you. that, plus the way zayne circles your clit with his thumb, pushes you over the edge. your second orgasm hits you just as hard as your first one, the scream you let out is muffled by sylus.
“you’re perfect,” zayne says, gently thrusting, working you both through your orgasms.
of course, when sylus cums in your mouth he’s praising you the entire time, “that’s it, beautiful, you did so good for us.”
and the aftercare is going to be gentle and wonderful. they’re going to take their time and make sure you’re okay after how intense things were, and if you all happen to go for another round in the shower…..
the kiss we silently swore never to talk about again...
summary: years ago, on your birthday, you & caleb shared a forbidden moment. it isn't until his birthday that all those hidden desires are finally indulged in.
★pairing: caleb x fem!reader
★wc: 3.5k
★content: fluff & smut. drunk first kiss & grinding in the memory, caleb panics, a tiny bit of angst. sloppy makeouts, spit kink, dry humping, coming in pants, desperate & subby caleb, overstimulation. caleb calls reader pipsqueak, baby, honey and love. reader calls caleb baby.
★a/n: I love that theory that the kiss they don't talk about happened when they were younger, and then I thought ooo I could do a parallel with this. it was supposed to be sweet and it turned smutty, but it's still sweet. I'll probably do a more intimate version of their first time once his card is out!
★masterlist ★read on ao3
You couldn't believe you had actually gotten Caleb to go along with your plan.
When you'd told him you needed a break from your college campus, and that you wanted to go out and get drunk in Skyhaven for your birthday, he was already nodding along on the video call.
"Alright, pipsqueak," he agreed with a grin. "I'll tag along and take care of you. Gotta make sure you're staying hydrated."
"No, no, no." You shook your head, grinning wickedly when he cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy. "You're going with me."
He arches an unimpressed eyebrow.
"Uhh, earth to pipsqueak, did you not hear what I just said? I am going—"
"Nooo," you interrupt, wagging your finger. "You're going drinking with me."
He'd sputtered, complained and argued all he wanted, but he had agreed to every one of your terms by the time you hung up the call.
And here you were, tipsy and laying back on the floor of his Aerospace Academy assigned studio apartment, watching the ceiling fan spin while you both giggled over something you can't quite remember.
You glance over at where Caleb's sprawled out beside you, smiling at the happy, hazy look in his eyes that surely matches your own. It was impossible to see him ever completely loosen up, and this was the best birthday gift you could've asked for.
Then your thoughts immediately take a different direction when he licks his lips.
They're too dry. You know because you'd jokingly held him down as you swiped your own chapstick across them countless times.
And you'd caught him running his thumb over his cracked bottom lip, tongue darting out across the lingering taste of you when he thought you weren't looking.
Your whole face feels too hot suddenly, blood rushing so fast through your ears that you can't even hear the idle sounds of Skyhaven late at night that drift up through the cracked window.
You wonder what it would be like to kiss someone.
To have their lips press to yours, all tentative and sweet. To know that liking them wasn't in vain, that hoping they felt the same way wasn't just a daydream you'd kept hidden for years. To see the adoration in their eyes when they pull back and caress your cheek.
Purple eyes with an orange sheen.
You wonder what it would be like to kiss Caleb.
"Caleb," you whine, watching the dopey smile grow on his face at your voice. "Am I too old to have never been kissed?"
Caleb's eyes widen, flashing to yours.
"I—" he blinks rapidly, and you giggle at the rare occasion of having caught him completely off guard. "What?"
"Kiss-ing," you draw out, tapping your lips with each letter you spell out for him, "k-i-s-s-i-n-g."
Caleb watches each tap with rapt attention, so captivated that his own lips slowly part. A bit of drool collects at the corner of them, and your vision goes hazy before he quickly looks away.
"Oh." He sounds breathless, clearing his throat to steady his voice. "Uh, I dunno, pipsqueak. I mean, I'm older than you and I've never kissed anyone. Is that weird?"
He gives a little laugh, but you hear the stiff edge to it, can see the uncertainty haunting the façade of his easy expression.
"Really?" you roll over onto you stomach, propping your chin onto your palms.
Your legs kick behind you, and he glances at you and away again.
After a stretch of awkward silence, he turns onto his side, meeting your gaze.
"I mean, yeah," he mutters, shrugging one shoulder. "Why would I?"
You look down at his never-been-kissed lips, feeling your blood rush to your head when he bites them.
Your eyes dart back down, watching his necklace brush against the floor from the angle he lays at.
"Sooo…you've never wanted to kiss anybody?" you ask, trying to seem casual, even as your fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt when he shifts closer.
"I didn't say that," Caleb mutters, and you go rigid.
"Oh."
You flop back onto your back, glaring up at the ceiling fan before he can notice how your brows have pinched, your mouth pressed into a firm line.
"Pips?" Caleb pokes at your cheek, and you pout, turning on your side away from him. "What's got you all frowny-faced?"
"Nothing," you bite out, crossing your arms over your chest.
"Uh-huuuh."
He pokes at your back, then your side, until his fingers are lightly tickling at your ribs. You giggle, kicking your feet out at him.
"Caleb, stooop," you whine, pushing back at him as he tries to tug you back over to face him.
"C'mon, pips," he teases, pinching your waist, and you squeak. "Why won't you look at me?"
Flipping over to smack him, you accuse with totally justified, totally sober and coherent anger, "I'm mad at you, dummy!"
He blinks, and you try and not melt at how cute he looks like this—drunk and flushed, with those big confused puppy dog eyes.
"Why?"
Instead of answering him directly, you ask, "Was it the girl in your chemistry class?"
"The—" Caleb blinks again, shifting back in surprise. "What?"
"That you wanted to kiss sooo badly." You frown, crossing your arms again. "The one who copied off your homework, and you were too nice to stop her. Or was it the guy who always tried to beat your track record?"
"Pips—"
"Or the cheerleader captain? Or is it somebody at university, huh? Are you sneaking around making googly eyes at the other pilots?"
"Oh, quit it." Caleb rolls his eyes, rubbing a hand over his forehead with an unamused huff. "I didn't want to kiss any of them. I don't want to."
"Then who?" You push yourself up, and he sits up to match your restless energy. He always rises to that familiar challenge in your eyes, pulling when you push. "Who exactly is just so damn special that you're still saving that kiss for them?"
Caleb's eyes flash, and he leans up and over you until his large frame is surrounding you completely.
"Maybe it's someone I like with a bratty mouth," he snaps, gently pinching your lips shut between calloused fingers.
Your wide eyes meet his blazing ones, and you both freeze.
His fingers loosen on your lips, and your lashes flutter.
He watches your eyes dilate, then looks down to where he gingerly brushes his fingers along the seam of your lips, his breath audibly hitching when they part for him.
Caleb's lids fall heavy over his darkening gaze. Your breath speeds up in your chest. He looks from your lips to your eyes, then back down to your lips again.
And when you glance down at his own mouth, you're both crashing into each other.
Your first kiss with your childhood friend, your best friend, was anything but the magical one you had just been daydreaming about.
This was sloppy and needy, all tongue and spit and teeth. Years of emotion you didn't know how to unpack began to unravel at the seams, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you as you fall back onto the floor.
Neither of you knew what you were doing, only that you were desperate for more. His hands grab at your waist, slipping down to your thighs briefly, and snapping back up when he realized what he was touching.
Then his arms are wrapping around you, corded muscles tightening to hold you close to him as you squirm from all the years of pent up tension.
Your lips meet his again and again, needy sounds filling the air. His own spit dribbles down your chin as Caleb licks into your mouth and moans against your tongue.
Your foot trails up his leg, wrapping around his calf, and he mindlessly grabs at it, hoisting it up until it was wrapping securely around his hip. The fabric of your skirt rides up, and you jolt when you feel the growing bulge in his jeans rub against the thin fabric of your dampening panties.
The sensation is brief, then harder, until you're rolling against each other in a delirious haze of desperation.
He's mumbling something incoherent into your lips, teeth sinking into the soft flesh until you feel it start to break, and you moan his name.
Caleb jerks back, eyes wide and pupils swallowing all the purple except for the thinnest ring around the edge. His chest heaves, kiss-swollen lips forming soundless words.
Lips swollen from your kisses.
You whine, reaching for him as he begins to panic, de-tangling himself from you.
"No," you beg, trying to tug him back as he gently pulls your grabbing hands away. "No no no—"
"Pips, you're—" his voice is ragged, and he sucks in a deep breath.
His eyes are wild, darting around at everything but you, even as he tugs your skirt back down around your waist. His cheeks blaze red when he steals another quick look at the ruined panties underneath, the soaked fabric with a lacy band, before he turns away in shame.
"You're drunk," he breathes, shaking his head sharply.
"I'm not—"
"I'm drunk." Caleb laughs, disbelief coating the sound, long fingers running through his hair until it's sticking up in all directions. "Shit. Fuck. This wasn't—this wasn't supposed to happen—"
Your body begins to defensively curl inwards, and you blink quickly to try and keep the sudden sting of tears at bay.
Caleb finally dares a glance back at you, going from flushed to shockingly pale in seconds.
"No, no, pipsqueak—"
"No, it's fine," you sniff, pushing yourself up and scooting back against the floor. "I get it. You…you didn't want it to be me. I get it."
"No, no no no," he keeps mumbling the word the entire time you're moving away, and suddenly Caleb's on his hands and knees, crawling after you with those big, sad puppy dog eyes. "No, pips, that's not what I meant—"
"It's fine, Caleb."
"It's not fine," he insists, resting the side of his cheek against the top of your knees. His eyes are wide and wet, begging for you to just look at him. "You heard what I said. Who I said. Who I…wanted."
His voice gets impossibly quiet, and Caleb's honest gaze begs for your attention.
But you're too fixated by the dark indentation your teeth had left in his lips, the shine on them that could've been your saliva or his.
"It's just not a good idea, pips," he whispers, and you flinch, followed by his own grimace. "Shit, no, that sounded bad. It's just because—"
He stops, shaking his head, palm covering his face.
"I can't think straight," he mumbles, peeking at you through his fingers. With a sigh, he drops his hand onto your knee, rubbing gentle circles into your skin. His voice is so gentle, so Caleb, but it still grates at your sensitive nerves right now. "I think we both just need to sleep this off. We'll talk about it later, okay?"
You sniff, still not meeting his eyes completely.
"No, we wont," you mumble, even as you let yourself be gently directed towards his bed.
He's silent as he helps you prepare for sleep, even as he moves to sleep on his little couch, opting for his long legs to cramp up on the furniture instead of cuddling with you. The tension radiates off him at your accusation—because he knows you're right.
"We'll never talk about it again."
But here you are, years later, in the same situation as before.
You're both sober this time. You're older, maybe wiser, and scarred from being torn apart before coming back together.
But the way Caleb looks at you has never changed. Like you hung the stars in the sky, like you were the moon the sun chased with every morning.
He doesn't shy away when you look at him just the same. He doesn't pull back now, doesn't keep his longing locked away when your thumb brushes his lips, collecting the residue of the candy you'd fed him.
You wanted today to be a special birthday for him. You wanted to give him everything he'd ever wanted.
"Remember when you kissed me?" you breathe, and his eyes flash in surprise at what you'd silently sworn to never speak of again, beautiful lashes fluttering at your exhale across his lips. "On my birthday?"
He laughs, a little quiet huff of air, and his shock melts to something knowing. Something you'd both always known, deep down.
"You kissed me," he accuses, all low and sultry in his teasing, and you shiver.
You smile, your thumb caressing the corner of his lips.
It didn't matter who had kissed who anymore, who pulled back from who. You'd still ended up where you both belonged.
Caleb gazes up at you, awestruck when your eyes darken.
"Then you knew I wanted it," you whisper, nose bumping against his. "So why did you stop?"
You lean in slowly, giving him a moment to pull away if he still wanted to, if he still needed time. He'd given you all the time in the world, after all. You'd happily wait for him, too.
But then Caleb's lips are on yours, and everything finally feels right.
He tastes like sour lemon candy, and you whine, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. He moans, fingers digging into your hips.
"Fuck me," he groans under his breath, and you laugh between the kisses that heat up between you.
"If you insist," you murmur, smirking into his mouth when his hips jerk up into yours.
The whimper that leaves his lips is quiet and needy, and you eagerly swallow it down.
"Don't tease me like that, baby," Caleb rasps, and your own hips roll in his lap at that low huskiness to his voice.
His hands tighten on your hips, stilling you. You pause, wondering if you'd taken it too far.
But then he's directing you, pulling your legs around to straddle him completely. He guides you into a deeper roll, and you both moan.
You sink down onto him with slow grinds, the hem of your dress hiding just how quickly your panties were getting wet. In the rosy haze of growing pleasure, you wonder how long it'll take to soak that erection he's been sporting since you walked in the room.
"Didn't even try and hide how hard you were when I came in," you whisper into your languid, sensual kissing. "Did you?"
Caleb's hand slips down, cupping your ass easily in his rough palm and long fingers. You moan when he squeezes it, followed by a squeak of surprise at his gentle, experimental smack to it.
"You can't talk like that, pips," he pants, head tilting back against the couch. His voice is that delicious shade of darkness when he adds, "God, you can't make those sounds either. I won't last long if you do."
His eyes are hazy as he watches you lean down, kissing along the elegant slope of his neck. You stop at the harsh bobbing of his Adam's apple when he gulps, and your teeth graze along it, humming at the moan you feel vibrate there.
"I've thought about that kiss for years," Caleb gasps, hand sliding up your back to keep you pressed to him. His hips lazily roll up into yours, his eyes rolling back into his head when he suddenly bucks up once. "Every time I—"
He cuts himself off, biting at his already swollen lips with a blush.
You smile, devious in your intent, and his mouth falls open when your hidden possessive streak unfolds.
"Every time you—" you leave your question hanging, letting the way you begin to bounce in his lap be the answer.
"You—" Caleb chokes, gripping your hips.
His eyes glue to the motion of your hips flexing under your dress, ass coming up and smacking back down against the strength of his large thighs. You feel him twitch through his jeans, and you moan along with him.
"F-fuck," he groans, mouth hanging open, the tip of his tongue falling out.
You lean forward, collecting the saliva in your mouth. Realizing what you're doing, Caleb tilts his head up and sticks his tongue out, eyes wide and dilated.
You let your spit pool onto his tongue, and he takes it eagerly, swallowing it down with a whine and a thrust of his hips.
"I've thought about it, too," you breathe, and his lidded eyes flicker between your face and where you're shamelessly humping him. "Every single time. Even when I'm not trying to. But when I'm touching myself—"
"Oh fuck—"
"And I'm trying to come, all I can think about is how warm you were and your spit in my mouth—"
"B-baby," Caleb stutters, his head lolling to the side, unfocused eyes fluttering and rolling back in his head with each dry slap and grind of your hips against his. "Please, please—"
"I always think of kissing you when I'm coming—"
"Coming," Caleb gasps, and you think he's just mindlessly repeating you until you notice how rigid he's gotten, completely still and flushed bright red as he moans, "oh, fuck, I'm coming—"
And you can feel it, the sticky warmth flooding into the front of his jeans, seeping into you as you gasp. You grind down against his throbbing cock underneath the stifling fabric, wishing you were taking every drop of his cum instead, not letting a bit of it go to waste.
Caleb whines, crying out softly as you roll your hips, and you swallow every pretty sound with hot kisses until your clothed clit catches on his ruined jeans just right.
"Oh fuck, there—" you gasp, lips messily attached to his. You feel the tears of pleasure and overstimulation streaming down his face as he bucks up into you still. "Caleb, Caleb—"
"Come," he begs, and your eyes meet his. Your hips falter at the unadulterated affection there before you speed up, breath hitching when you feel yourself being to crest over into mind-numbing pleasure. "Come for me, honey, please come for me love please—"
Your eyes pinch shut, and you cry out for him when the orgasm hits you all at once, all your limbs seizing up as you convulse in his lap.
"Oh fuck there, there it is," Caleb grunts, grabbing at your trembling thighs under your dress, moaning when he feels your slick that had dripped down them. "You're coming, you're actually coming—"
Your pussy flutters and tightens in your soaked panties, and you moan, wondering what it would have felt like if you had had the foresight to tug his cock out of his pants, if your precious Caleb had filled you up before you came around him.
Next time, you think in a haze, giggling breathlessly when you realize there was an endless number of next times now.
Caleb's lips meet yours, and you meet each kiss as they slow into something lazy and content. He keeps leaning closer and closer to you, his hand cupping the back of your head, protecting you when you both end up weakly tumbling to the ground, and you laugh.
Your eyes are warm and shining with joy when you look up at him, pulling him down for another kiss, and another, because they were all yours now. Every kiss, every moment.
It was the same messy meeting of tongue and spit and teeth from that unspoken moment years ago, except this time, he wouldn't pull away.
"When do we get to do that again?" you gasp, and he laughs too, bright and happy and maybe, finally at some semblance of peace.
"Whenever you want it," Caleb hums, pulling back to kiss the tip of your nose, then your cheekbone, your eyelashes, all the way up to your temple and back down to your lips again.
"Well," you start, grinning as your loop your arms around his neck. He smiles down at you in befuddled admiration, like he couldn't believe you were really here. "You're the birthday boy."
There's a subtle shift in his eyes, suddenly shining with vulnerability when he asks, "But you want it?"
"Oh," you whisper, brushing at the leftover tears that cling to his long lashes. You kiss them when his eyes shut, your nose nuzzling against his.
Dummy, you think fondly. Worried you didn't want any more when you just had the best orgasm of your life, just from dry humping his lap.
When you'd been dreaming of doing this for years. When you would've been happy if all he wanted was just a kiss.
But his post-nut shyness was sweet, even if coupled with that deep-rooted fear that when he closed his eyes, you'd disappear. And your heart was too full of love not to reassure him.
So you banished the shadows that haunted the corners of his mind with another gentle kiss, pressing all your love for him into it.
"Of course I want it, Caleb," you murmur, smiling up at him. "You're all I've ever wanted."
He sighs, his lips meeting yours in another kiss. This one is unhurried, an intimate promise between you.
"Happy birthday, baby," you whisper, and he smiles.
summary: Caleb has always been your dearest friend, and so much more. Your world continues to revolve around his memory when you lose him, until he comes home to you.
★pairing: Caleb x Reader/MC
★wc: 5.2k
★content warning: fluff in flashbacks, nostalgia, longing, angst, grief/mourning (Caleb's temporary death), tension when he returns, emotional hurt/comfort. alcohol consumption. heavy use of pipsqueak/pips, Caleb calls Reader baby & honey one (1) time each.
★a/n: I feel like Ribs by Lorde is going to be my most played song this year because of Caleb & writing this fic. Been working on this one for a while! This song is just so Caleb-coded to me, it embodies all that painful nostalgia I love about him, and I wanted this fic to reflect that feeling <3
masterlist ★ read on ao3
It all replays. Effortlessly, in a never-ending loop each time you close your eyes. Every touch, every glance. As tangible as ever until you open your eyes again.
"Pips?"
You blink a few times, rapidly, before looking towards him. For a moment, your mind swims, blurring the familiar image before you.
"Yeah?"
Your voice sounds distant to your own ears, and you shake your head. You blink a few more times, until he becomes clear before you.
Tall, broad-shouldered. Face faintly freckled, framing the glow of those lilac and orange rose eyes. His warm, easy smile.
Caleb, you want to sigh in relief, and have no idea why.
His strong brows are furrowed as he leans forward to get a better look at you, trying to catch your eyes as you shift them away again.
"Sorry," you mumble quickly, giving another sharp shake of your head.
You smile, weakly at first, then stronger when your eyes meet his again. There's always a familiar rush of comfort when your gazes meet. Even when you just feel his eyes on you, it brings a certain kind of peace.
"Spaced out a bit," you add.
"A bit?"
He laughs, but it's worried, his head tilting to the side as he scans you from head to toe. As if there will be some secret revealed in the twitch of your fingers, in how quickly your weight shifts from one foot to the other.
Caleb would be the one to pick up on the slightest tell. Unraveling your darkest fears, so hidden even from yourself, just from the shift of your eyes or the bite of your lip.
"You were headin' all the way to the moon with that stare," he jokes, easing off that sweet, albeit overbearing concern when you smile at him again.
Still, there's comfort in how he hovers over you, in how his worry wraps around you and squeezes just tight enough to be pleasant. Familiar.
"Yeah—sorry," you mutter again, glancing around you.
The pounding of the bass is what hits you first, a sensation of the blaring music felt deep in your chest. You blink a few times more times, disoriented, swaying on your feet only for Caleb to step into your side, steadying you.
"Pipsqueak?"
Your drawn to his voice like a magnet, squinting at his face in the low light of the…bar?
Looking around again, your mind pulls together all the pieces to set the scene. Yeah, the bar—a popular one among students in Skyhaven, near enough to the Aerospace Academy's dorms that fledgling pilots could drown the sorrows of their finals or celebrate acing their flights.
Tonight, it was the latter—though you highly doubted it was ever anything else for Caleb. You were visiting for the weekend, a break from your own studies, and enthusiastically agreed to the night out for the both of you when his friends stopped by his room to ask.
God, where had your mind been?
"Have you been drinking too much?"
Caleb's eyes narrow down at the half-finished beer in your hands (was it your first or second?), and you automatically bring it to your chest, half-expecting him to snatch the affronting alcohol away. The drink in his own hands is barely sipped at by comparison.
"Nooo," you draw out petulantly, and his narrowed gaze turns to you.
You stick your tongue out at him, biting it in a growing smile when his own lips twitch upwards at your behavior.
"Alright, alright," he huffs, even as the suspicion doesn't completely leave his keen eyes—keener in everything they see when it came to you. "Just don't forget to bring me with you next time."
You return his smile, even if something buried deep within you aches at what he says.
"Bring you where?"
Caleb's hand lands softly on your head, the warmth from his palm seeping into your scalp when he ruffles your hair.
"The moon," he says with a grin, easing you and grounding you to both him and the moment. There's an infuriating, beloved sparkle of mischief in his eyes when he adds, "Duh."
"Aren't you supposed to be a real, certified Deepspace pilot soon?" you shoot back instead of focusing on that faint ache. You focus instead on his shining gaze directed at you, how he's fully attentive to every word you say, until that ache fades away. "You should be the one taking me to the moon."
He snorts, eyes crinkling with mirth.
Somebody shuffles past behind him, and he's forced to step closer to you. The heat of his body permeates into your own, and he leans down further to try and meet your wandering eyes.
"Why do you think I became a pilot in the first place?" he asks, tilting his head further down.
The magnetism of his gaze pulls your attention from the words you'd engraved on that metal around his neck.
"To be a big hotshot?" Your nose wrinkles up at him when he grins teasingly from baiting out your familiar snark. "That's what everybody else seems to think. Ooh, Caleb, he's so cool! Look at him coming off the plane, taking his helmet off, I'm gonna swoooon—"
"Oh, quiet, you," Caleb swiftly interrupts you, reaching up to gently pinch your nose. You smack at his hand, and he gives it a shake before letting go.
The pounding music increases in volume, and he shifts, his head tilting to the side so that his cheek brushes against yours. You freeze at the casual contact, and heat up when you feel his breath against your ear.
"Besides, why would I care what they think?"
Caleb's breath is warm, but his words are warmer, heating up your entire body from the inside out. You feel your cheeks get hot, and you can't help but wonder if he can feel it radiating off you, his own cheek still grazing against yours.
What would it feel like, you wonder idly, to have his lips there too? To have them press down, soft, then firm, to feel his breath turn to panting? What would he sound like if you—
You suck in a deep breath, smacking weakly at his chest, even as he doesn't budge in his proximity to you.
"You don't?" you mumble, a hint of petulance creeping into your attempt at teasing, even if you feel your heart race in time with the pulsing music.
Because you know how they all look at him. You know how they gaze longingly, how they admire him from afar or as close as they dare to get.
Even now, you can feel the attention that circulates him, grounding him as the center of gravity in the room, with all the little stars and planets stuck in his orbit.
You lean in closer, daring to get as close to the sun as you can without burning.
In a flash, you see the fingers coming to pinch you again, and you swiftly dodge it, wavering back and forth. He sets his drink down on the table closest to you, and reaches both hands towards your face to catch you.
When he does, you pout up at him, your lips further pushed out when he squeezes your cheeks in.
"Ca-leeeeb," you whine, putting down your own drink and pinching his cheek to mimic his actions, and he lets go of you with an easy laugh.
"I only care if you think I'm cool, pips," Caleb answers, his eyes warm and kind while he shakes his head at your huff of disbelief.
As if it was the most obvious thing in the world—maybe it was, to him. Maybe he didn't notice everybody else in the room as drawn to him as you.
"So?"
You stiffen, whipping your head away.
"So what?"
"Soooo," he drawls, picking his drink back up as he ducks his face into your view again, grinning, "Do you think I look cool? Coming off the plane with my helmet off—what did you say again? I'm gonna swoon, he's sooo handsome—"
"I didn't say that—"
"You thought it—"
"Did not!"
You wack at his chest, frustrated huffs turning into a steady stream of giggles as he wraps his hand around your wrist, tugging you towards him. You stumble towards him in the same moment he steps back to make room for you, crashing into somebody right as they try to skirt past behind him.
Caleb is pushed back forward, colliding into you, and you hiss at the suddenly unpleasant sensation of warm beer spilling all over you.
"Oh, shit."
Caleb's moving in an instant, setting down his glass—from nearly full to more than half-empty in a split second—and grabbing at a pile of napkins nearby.
There's mumbled apologies from whichever drunk classmate bumped into him, but it only earns a rare glare from your golden boy, instead of a charming smile and quick joke to defuse the tension.
"Sorry, pips, I'm so sorry—" he mumbles under his breath when his attention quickly rivets back to you, dabbing gently at your shirt.
But the napkins are not helping, and the layer of beer on your shirt is already soaked through and starting to make the cloth stick to your skin.
And it really sticks.
Caleb seems to notice at the same moment as you. He turns swiftly, backing you towards the corner, away from the eyes always glued to his every action.
Leaning over you, he uses his large frame to hide you from view, quickly unzipping his jacket and helping your arms through the sleeves.
"I'm so, so sorry," he's still rushing the apologies with every breath, zipping up the jacket all the way to your neck.
He rolls the cuffs of the sleeves up to your wrists, brows pinched with concern, face flushed down to his neck.
"Caleb," you urge softly, pulling his panicked gaze up to your eyes. His stiff shoulders relax slightly, just from the familiarity of your eyes looking back at him. "It's fine. People are drunk. I'm probably drunk. It happens."
He still frowns.
"It shouldn't," he mutters, before his hand finds yours, fingers easily falling into place around yours as he tugs you after him. "C'mon, let's get you home."
"What about—"
You stop, your mind suddenly feeling fuzzy again.
You get the uncanny feeling of being trapped in static, like an old-fashioned TV that sometimes sits in an antique shop window, playing the same image on repeat. It doesn't help that you swear this same song blasting in every corner of the bar has been looping on repeat for hours at this point.
Shaking your head, you blame it on the alcohol, focusing instead on the warm weight of Caleb's palm in yours, his fingers giving you a squeeze whenever he looks back at you.
"What about Gideon?" you finally manage once Caleb gets you through the doors, and you suck in a large lungful of cool, crisp Skyhaven air. "Your friends?"
"They'll be fine," he brushes off with a shake of his head, fixing the collar of his jacket on you when it sticks up from the sudden gust of wind. "Gideon's a big boy, he can handle himself. Promise."
"You should still let them know you're leaving," you insist, frowning.
With a sigh, Caleb fishes his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. It's an older pair, you recognize the worn hems, and how it's become way too tight across the butt, accentuating how round his—
You clear your throat, glancing away. Needed to take him shopping for some new clothes, the dork. What was he wearing worn out jeans for?
"Shopping?" Caleb says as he sends a text and slips his phone back away, and you start.
Had you said that out loud?
Oh no did you talk about his butt out loud too?
God, how drunk were you?
Caleb frowns at you, pressing his hands against your cheeks before he's suddenly leaning in. Your breath stutters through parted lips, eyes wide as you watch his own close as his forehead touches yours.
"You're too hot," he hums, completely innocent in his concern, unaware of how you now feel even hotter. Unbearably so. "How much did you have to drink again? I swear I was keeping track…"
He's mumbling to himself now, ignoring how flustered you're getting as he turns, crouching in front of you.
"What—"
"C'mon." He reaches his hand back to give a pat to your leg, and you jerk forward with a squeak when his fingers squeeze gently on your thigh. "Hop on."
Hop—
You clear your throat, pushing the sudden barrage of mental images from your mind as you drape yourself over his back, letting him lift you in a piggy back ride back home.
There's a few stopping points along the way.
Five minutes into the walk, and he's setting you down on a bench at your complaints that your feet are being pinched by your boots. He gently tugs the laces loose, pulling each one off. They hang from his fingers while he lets you climb back on his back.
Five more minutes later, your cheek is pressed against his as you start whining for—
"Ice cream?" Caleb repeats, a little laugh in the question. "Pips, it's 1 am."
"Soooo?" You pout, nuzzling your cheek against his, failing to hide a smile into his neck when you feel his breath hitch in his throat. "I want some."
He pivots easily, taking you in the other direction.
Caleb sets you back down, this time on the curb while he gets a frozen bar of your favorite flavor from the 24 hour convenience store. He sits next to you, rambling about zero-gravity tests and flight maneuvers as you happily devour your ice cream.
His mouth opens automatically when you place the last bite in his mouth, lips closing around the stick to pull it off with his tongue.
He doesn't seem to notice the tips of your fingers caught in his mouth, even as your gaze is glued to the sight of them popping out, a little shinier and warmer than before.
You clear your throat, averting your gaze when you feel him look at you.
"You don't even like ice cream," you grumble.
"Nope," he answers in his teasing, sing-song tone, shifting for you to climb back onto his back. "But I sure do like you, pips!"
Caleb laughs when you groan and bury your face back into his neck, like he thinks what he said was the most casual thing in the world.
Which maybe it was.
Or maybe it wasn't.
Your head spins, and you don't say anything else until he's gently setting you on your feet outside his dorm room.
"God, you really are drunk," he sighs softly when you stumble through the door, his arm easily hooking around your waist. His voice is even more hushed when he gently directs you towards the bathroom, his palm on your lower back big and warm, "Gotta get you out of that sticky shirt, honey."
His back leans against the other side of the door when you take a quick shower, still rambling about whatever came to mind, and asking every now and then if you're doing okay.
You emerge from the tiny bathroom with a cloud of steam, clean and happy in one of his old t-shirts. It's one of your favorites of his, tucked away in the side of his top drawer just for your visits.
"Remember the first time you got drunk?" Caleb asks when he tucks you into his bed, only for you to kick the sheets free and tug him in with you. He laughs, easily slipping in beside you in his own favorite, comfy pajamas.
"Mhm," you hum. "I was sixteen—"
"You were fifteen—"
"—and it was at Francesca's house down the street—"
"—it was Luke's house, and I had to carry you for three blocks—"
"—for a sleepover—"
"—it was a house party, pipsqueak—"
"—I'm talking!" You bark at his constant interruptions to correct you, and he bursts out laughing.
You curl up into his side, giggling along with him. Whenever there's a lull in your laughter, with barely enough time to catch your breath, one of you starts up again.
You hold each other tight with each wave of giggles, until your ribs start to burn and your cheeks ache.
When the moment of silence finally comes, Caleb inhales slowly.
"I watched you dance down an entire street before you almost fell, and I had to carry you the rest of the way home," he whispers. It sounds reverent, as if the memory will disappear the moment he speaks it out loud.
You glance up at Caleb, admiring the faraway look in his eyes he got whenever he was hypnotized by nostalgia. It seemed to be happening more often, the older you both got—him remembering you, even when you were right in front of him.
"You were spinning around that flickering streetlight down on West Cedar Street when you almost tripped over your own feet." He laughs softly, and you smile at the memory. You were drunk and young and happy, and Caleb never strayed from your side. "And you were laughing so much I thought you'd wake the whole neighborhood."
"Did not," you mumble, resting across his chest, your body jostled by his laughter.
"Did too," he stubbornly insists, even when you pout up at him. "It was even worse when we got home. Had to shush your little giggles alllll the way up to bed before we got caught."
You roll your eyes, smacking him lightly in the chest.
"How come you never forget anything, Caleb?" you whine.
He falls quiet, and you peer up at him curiously.
There's a different look in his eyes now, even farther away, but it shutters off when he catches you looking.
"How could I forget?" he asks, smiling down at you with a tenderness that makes your heart race in these quiet moments—too intimate for what you said you were to each other, and also not enough. Never enough. "How could I ever forget anything about you?"
Caleb squeezes you tighter, and you feel that static in your mind again. It makes your vision hazy, your head heavy, and sets your heart racing with fear.
"I'm scared, Caleb," you whisper, fingers curling tighter into his shirt.
He shifts underneath you, the gentle strength of his arms tugging you closer. You adjust on top of him until you can listen to the steady beat of his heart, until it settles your own heartbeat.
"Of what?" he asks quietly, fingertips tapping an idle pattern against the base of your spine.
It's comforting, and your eyes begin to droop.
"Of…" you yawn, turning to bury your face further against his chest. Your fingers curl around the chain of his necklace, warm from his body heat. "Of getting older."
Of getting older without you, echoes in your mind.
Which doesn't make sense. When you get older, so does he. That's just the way it goes.
But the words dance around your mind, flashing in your eyelids every time your eyes blink shut again. They get heavier, harder to open, and you hold onto him tighter.
No, you think distantly. Not yet. Please.
You don't know why you think it. He'll be here in the morning when you wake up.
Caleb will give you that dopey, sleepy smile, tug gently at your cheek until you're awake and shoving him away. You'll pester him about what he's going to make you for breakfast, and he'll tease you that you better get up because you snooze, you lose, pipsqueak, it'll all be gone by the time you get up. But he lets you sleep in a bit longer anyway.
"There's nothin' to be scared of, pips," Caleb's hushed voice brings you back to him in that moment, and your racing heart begins to calm. "I'm gettin' older, too. Hear how creaky my knees are gettin'?"
He bumps his knees against yours, and you scoff, kicking him back until your legs tangle together as he laughs.
You want to stay up. You want to keep laughing, until you're sore in the ribs again. Until you feel him nestled between them, always.
"I'm right here with you, baby."
Your stomach flips. It feels off-script, somehow, but you're not complaining.
With a yawn, you finally allow your eyes to close. "Every step?"
Lips brush against your forehead, and you calm.
"Every step."
You poke him in the chest, fighting one more wave of sleep like it was anesthesia—pointless and painful to resist.
"Chapped lips," you mumble, brows furrowing. "Need to get you more chapstick…and jeans, you dork…"
His laughter rumbling through his chest is the last thing you hear.
When you wake, it's with the absence of him.
You sleep again, for just one more glimpse.
You don't like going out for drinks anymore.
You do it, because they ask you to. Your coworkers look for the smile on your face when it's been gone for months, when they should know better than to think you'll ever be happy again, with half of you gone.
And when you stumble home, it's alone.
No stopping for 1 am ice cream, shoes carried for you as you're carried the whole way. There's no dancing down Cedar Street, twirling around the flicker of a streetlight, knowing who's following a few steps behind and laughing along with you.
These aren't the streets of your old neighborhood. You couldn't bear the thought of ever walking them again, even as familiar sidewalk chalk art and cracks in the pavement flicker through your mind as you trace your steps back to your apartment.
It always replays in your mind, sleeping or waking. Sometimes you could hardly tell the difference between those dreams and reality.
You still hear his voice, teasing you with every little thing you do. Even with the weight of the words that had been a gift to him, a promise between you, now dangling around your neck.
He should be here, you think with each beat of your heart, with every staggering step. Your hand sways out from your side, fingers grasping at empty air each time you waver. He should always be here.
It feels like driving through a tunnel, the lights flashing above you with every image of a memory as your mind rewinds back through time. You remember every promise broken, every fear come to realization.
I'm right here with you. You can't remember if that was dream, or memory. Or both. Every step.
Either way, it's a lie. A cruel reminder.
In just a few years, you'll be older than Caleb ever was.
You slowly crouch to the ground, arms brought around your knees. The gate to your apartment complex is in sight, a distance easily crossed, even when your steps falter.
But your chin rests on your knees, tears swimming in your vision. Muscles heavy and slack, no desire to get up and go to it. Because this may be your house, but it isn't home.
Strong arms, gentle embrace. Sure, steady, always open and waiting for you to return to them. Constant. Inevitable.
Gone.
Wiped from an existence that should have always revolved around him.
You could never go home again.
By some miracle, it all comes back to you.
He comes back to you.
When your dreams do become reality, it takes a while to accept it as so. To differentiate sleeping from waking, to fully realize he was once again in not just one, but both.
But it's hard. Fuck, it's so hard. Your breath still catches in your chest, impossibly tight each time your beloved ghost stands before you.
His name still sticks to the roof of your mouth when you see him, sometimes. Your tongue heavy with the syllables you'd laughed, and cried, and called, and whispered; in times of joy and times of grief.
Grief, you think the word over, turning it to inspect in your mind as you walk those old streets. Searching for a forgotten, familiar glimpse of him in every place where you grew up. Seeking another memory in every corner, every old favorite haunt.
Your name is still on the top of the wall of wishes—untouched by human fingers, only weathered by time.
You retrace your footsteps down that repaved street, only to find they've replaced the light bulb in the lamppost.
Down at the abandoned park, the old chains creak under the brush of your fingertips when you sink into the worn plastic seat of the swing.
You haven't answered his messages today, ignoring every phone call, and you wonder how long it'll take him to find you.
Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take that long at all.
"Hey," he calls, even if you feel his presence before you hear him. "I've been textin' you for hours. What are you doing all the way out here?"
You don't answer, your feet kicking at the ground you couldn't reach as a kid, when he used to use his Evol to push you higher and higher.
He's still talking, but he sounds far away, as trapped in your memories as he used to be.
"Hey." His voice is still gentle, but more insistent when he kneels before you.
His gloved thumb and forefinger find your chin to tilt your face towards him, and you realize he's still wearing that damned uniform. Fresh out of the fresh hell of his job that tries to keep him locked away from you, and here he is, running back home to you.
"Pips, you're worrying me here. Talk to me."
When you meet his gaze, his breath is sucked into his chest at whatever look is in your eyes.
Eyelashes fluttering, he whispers with a crack in his voice, "Please?"
The déjà vu hits you then. You remember the two of you, just like this once before. Your reason for being upset then seems so petty, so inconsequential now.
"I don't recognize you sometimes," you whisper, voice shaking. Your heart breaks when you see the hurt flash in his eyes before he blinks, quickly covering it up. "Or—or maybe I do. Maybe that's what scares me. That you look like my Caleb. You are still my Caleb."
You sniff, eyes watering, and Caleb strokes his thumb under your eyes to collect the fallen tears, the leather cool against your skin.
God, how desperately you wanted to go back in time.
Back to when things were so simple, when all you had to worry about was homework and what Caleb was making for dinner. When the only thing that could hurt either of you was falling off the swings, and you never had to be scared because Caleb always kept a few band aids of your favorite color in his pockets.
You miss riding your bicycles to the train tracks so you could watch the chemtrails the planes left across the spring's sunset sky. You miss hot summer nights when you curled up on the floor of his bedroom with the windows wide open, sharing the same pillow and blanket.
You miss the winters when he'd share one glove with you when you forgot yours, your bare hands linked together as you walked home after school. You miss having sleepovers with your best friend whenever you wanted, surrounded by a pile of plushies and laughing until your stomachs hurt, over some stupid joke you'd forget in weeks.
You miss stale beer staining your shirt and the warmth of his jacket around you, you miss piggy back rides and 1 am convenience store ice cream and sharing beds and laughing and you miss him.
Most of all, you miss the days when you believed that nothing could ever take him from your side.
"You're still my Caleb," you whisper again, and his eyes flash back up to yours, wide and unable to hide all the hope he tries to keep hidden from you. "But I see all the pieces of you they tried to take away."
He laughs dryly, looking away again.
"It doesn't fit right, does it?" he mumbles, moving to stroke his thumb over the back of your hand now. His head tilts, staring numbly at your hand in his. You realize belatedly that it's his right one. "All those broken little pieces."
Whatever broken part of your own soul calls out to what's broken in him.
"Hey," you whisper, nudging your knee against his. You remember being a ghost in the street, drunk and stumbling home all alone. "What would you do if I told you I felt that same way about myself?"
Caleb stiffens instantly. His brows pinch together, looking in pain at just the mere idea of that.
"I'd tell you you're wrong." Slowly, his fingers shift, until his pinkie twines around yours. Looking back up at you from his knees, adoring and supplicant, he whispers under his breath, "You're the best of the best."
How could he be so sure of your place, you think, and not his place in your heart? His spot by your side?
You reach for him, desperately, your hands knocking the military hat right off his head. Your fingers drag through his hair as you pull him closer, until he's resting against your chest, holding him close to your heart.
"You think so little of yourself," you whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and feeling the breath that shudders out of his chest against your own. "But I adore you."
Your fingers gently scrape at his scalp, your lips pressing to his temple.
"I always have."
You're both quiet for a moment. Enjoying the once overlooked, beautiful simplicity of just breathing together.
When Caleb eventually pulls back, it's with a smile.
But it's tight, the corners of his eyes not crinkling in their usual mirth.
Typical Caleb, overthinking even your heart on your sleeve, waiting for him to take what's always been his.
"But you got a big, wide world out there now." His hand comes towards your face, hesitant, then caressing your cheek when you lean into it. "Don'tcha, pips?"
You wouldn't know. Your world had ended when they took him from you.
But you just hum. With a forced casual shrug, you take his hand from your cheek.
You gently tug his glove off, fingers sliding up along his longer ones. Callouses from the lives you'd fought for rub together before they intertwine.
"Maybe," you admit with an utter lack of conviction. Its stark in comparison to the devotion that shines in your gaze up at him, and you see the hard edges that had encapsulated him softening. "But you're all I need."
Your head finds its place on Caleb's shoulder, and his slow sigh of relief ruffles your hair, followed by the light brush of lips there. His fingers tighten in your grip, and yours squeeze in response.
Until it hurts. Until he can feel it.
Until nothing could keep you apart again.
Then it loosens. Not to pull back, never to pull back. But it mellows out to something comfortable.
Not quite content, not yet. But close.
Knowing that someday, hopefully, you didn't have to hold on so tight just to hold each other at all.
Somehow, you know that he hears it this time, in the soft silence that falls between you.
baratheonpilled
izzy806
titsay
snowghoul
pixelskylines
turnnoffyourmind
andulkaphoto
dailybridgerton
