🚨 BREAKING NEWS: THE OUTSKIRTS MONSTER HAS ENTERED LINKON CITY! CITIZENS BEWARE! 🚨
Pairing: alpha werewolf!Valko x hunter!reader
MDNI, dubcon, alpha & his newfound mate, he’s just wild under the moon! basically I have no idea of his personality (I mean he just appears like a few hours ago.)
The warning from OTTO pings on the terminal, a distant, rhythmic blip that feels irrelevant. There’s no way a wanderer would climb all the way to a high-rise floor in the center of Linkon City. The deep forest outskirts are miles away, safely contained. We’re in the middle of a neon-lit grid, for fuck’s sake.
So why is someone standing on the balcony?
A rare Supermoon hang heavy outside, casting a cold glow through the floor to ceiling window. The plan is simple. Sit on the couch, let a mug of hot chamomile take the edge off a brutal shift, open the window to enjoy the cold night ajr and watch the sky until sleep takes over.
Then the light shifts. A massive shadow blocks the moonbeams, swallowing the room in darkness.
Years of basic Hunter experience kick in instantly. The air pressure change, a thickness that doesn't belong in your apartment. Adrenaline surges, a command to reach for the firearm on the counter, but the intruder's reflexes are way faster than you.
A heavy weight collides with your chest. The impact drives the air straight out of your lungs, slamming your back hard against the floorboards. Before your vision can clear, huge, solid hands pin your wrists to the floor.
Your breath hitches, eyes straining in the dim light to make sense of the 'monster' hovering above. The pale moonlight catches the edges of a mess of vibrant, short crimson hair, but it is the eyes that lock you in place—bright, predatory gold, glowing with a human intelligence. Yet, the sharp, triangular ears twitching on his head, the tail swishing back and forth and the low, vibrational rumble rattling in his chest say otherwise.
He bares his teeth, exposing his long, sharp canines just inches from your face.
"You..." His voice is a gravelly, low rasp, his chest rising and falling against yours. "You smell... different."
"The fuck—get off me!" You throw your weight to the side, trying to break away, but he doesn't even budge. He feels solid like rock, trapping you with effortless, terrifying strength.
With a low grunt, he drags your hands together, shifting his grip to lock both of your wrists above your head with a single palm. The sudden constraint force a sharp hiss past your teeth.
"Feisty," he murmurs, his gaze dropping, tracking the rapid rise and fall of your chest beneath your loose nightgown. The focus in his eyes narrows as he leans lower, his nose brushing the column of your neck, inhaling deeply. "On second thought... it’s intoxicating. What are you…?"
"I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking questions, you bastard," you spit back, your heart hammering against your ribs. Fighting the physical disadvantage is useless, but showing fear to a predator is worse. You’re trapped in a thin silk gown, completely unarmed.
He tilts his head, a dark, sharp grin pulling at the corner of his mouth as your defiance hits him. "You're not shaking. I like that. Let's see how long that bravado) lasts."
His grip tightens, his warm palm burning against your skin. Outside, the city lights flicker, completely unaware of what is happening on your living room floor.
With a sharp tug, he rips the neckline of your nightgown. The fabric tears with a harsh ripping sound, exposing your bare breasts to the cool air, the tip instantly pebbling under his gaze.
"Stop—" you gasp.
He ignores you. He leans down, slowly licking from the bottom of your mound to the tip. He pulls back with a soft, wet sound, lips smacking. You arch your back, the rough texture of his tongue sending a sharp jolt of heat straight through you.
"Stop? Sounds like you’re enjoying this," he growls low, his golden eyes dark.
"Fuck, I’m not—"
Before you can finish, his hand slaps your clothed cunt. You yelp, your hips jerking against his palm.
"Really? It’s wet down here," he laughs. He hooks his fingers into your underwear and pulls the damp silk aside, rubbing his long nails over your wet slit. He inhales the scent in his fingers deep and the air leaves as a shudder. "The scent comes from right here… fuck…"
He grins, pupils turn to vertical slit, then pins your hands tighter, and lowers his head to eat you without a single second of hesitation.
"Oh, fuck…!"
"What a nasty mouth. Up there and down here," he mutters against your skin, his tongue striking hard against your throbbing clit. "Both are—fuck—I can’t hold back…!"
He lets go of your wrists and quickly pulls down his pants, revealing his large, throbbing cock. The tip is big and red, slick with pre-cum. His hands grab your thighs, opening wide and rubs it against your wetness, coating himself in your watery arousal.
"Wait—no—that’s too—"
He pushes forward in one deep thrust, bottoming out completely. Your body arches violently as his tip reaches your cervix in one go.
"Shit, hah, where have you been all my life?" he grins, eyes glowing gold. "My mate. Finally found you."
He starts moving in a heavy, hard rhythm. Your folds move in and out around his massive cock, thrusting so deep and hard making it feel like he’s rearranging your insides.
"Uh… ahah…"
"That’s it. Don’t fight it. It’s yours," he snarls, driving harder. He hits your sensitive spot over and over, forcing cries from your throat. "Let go. Don’t hold it. Scream for me!"
Your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails scratching his skin as a sudden, intense climax shatters through you. You scream, your legs trembling from the intense release. The man roars, locking his hips against yours as he comes deep inside you, his chest heaving.
You both lie there for a minute, breathing heavily in the dark.
Slowly, his tension fades. He leans down and kisses you. It isn't rough, but surprisingly gentle and wet, a tender marking of your lips that catches you off guard.
Then he moves to your neck. His sharp teeth sink deep in between your neck and your shoulder, piercing the skin and leaving a heavy, throbbing red mark of his teeth to claim you as his.
"You—I’m going to kill you!!" you choke out, still want to move to grab the gun but your legs are still weak, shaking.
He pulls out and stands up, tossing his black shirt over your sticky body.
"Valko." He looks down at you one last time. "Remember my name. I’m going to come back, and when I do, I expect you to be more eager in spreading your legs than today."
He turns, jumps from the balcony, and disappears into the night.
I’m so excited! While this story will become ooc for sure but for now I’m going to let it out of my system 🍷✨
After The Mark (side short) - Next Chapter soon! ✨
synopsis: valko is in deep heat with the supermoon occurring, and he wants a solution that requires restraints, a collar, and you.
warnings: valko is in heat, sub!valko, good boy!valko, collar use, bondage, riding, overstimulation, biting, licking, scent marking, edging, knots, rutting, monsterfucking.
wc: 2,3k
a/n: i love him already, he's such a cutie. he deserves endless cuddles, BE NICE TO HIM! i want to devour him. I NEED HIM TO EAT ME OU– enjoy a pre-release celebration of our handsome wolf, valko!
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
He must be in heat. that’s the only way Valko can describe this feeling. The moon has been full for less than an hour, and he’s already twitching. Usually he can handle himself. But that’s not gonna work out well for him if all he can think about is you.
Your scent is delicious, beyond the scented lotions and perfume, he’s talking about your natural aroma, amplified by sweat and other smells your body emits. It draws him in. He can’t help but sniff the air every time you walk past him. His cock won’t stop twitching in his pants, tenting at the sight of you catching his gaze.
Valko wants to bite you. Valko wants to slather you with his saliva until you smell like him. He wants to rut his cock so deep inside you, cuddle you so close and keep you so warm with his hot body that you just have to call him a good boy.
“…ko,” He must be imagining you saying his name so nice and breathless.
“…alko.” There it is again, louder, your nails could drag down his back until he bleeds and he’d thank you.
“Valko!” He blinks, the mirage of a heated embrace disappearing from his perception to be replaced by your fingers snapping very close to his face. Such pretty fingers, he wants to lick—
“Yeah?” His voice is gruff and hoarse, almost like he’s keeping a whimper tight in his throat. His leg bounces as fast as his heart pounds his chest. You’re so pretty, with your pretty parted lips, and how your saliva keeps it just wet enough to shine in the warm lamp light. So plump for him to kiss and bite—
“As I was saying,” You pull your hand away, not hearing the small whine that leaves him from the lack of contact. “We need to make sure you’re comfortable for the next few hours. You said you can get agitated when there’s full moons, right?”
“Mmh.” Better a grunt than a moan. You brush it off assuming the effects of the celestial event are starting to mess with him internally.
Of course, you’re well aware that he’s got an extra pair of fluffy scratchable ears on the top of his head, an even fluffier tail protruding from the base of his spine, and sharper canines. You’re not ignorant.
What you don’t know is that he’s much more prone to getting heated in these hours. Especially in the presence of someone who his body, mind, and soul are attuned to completely. It’s you. You're that someone.
But he has to behave for your sake. He can’t be bad, he can’t be too rash and aggressive or he might scare you off. You might not like it. But he wants you so damn bad, he can’t even hide it anymore.
You’re rattling about restraints, something to tie him to incase he goes berserk.
Restraints. Belts. Muzzle. Chair. Tie him to a chair. He wants you to tie him to a chair.
He wants you to restrain him. He wants you to sit on his lap and feel how hard his cock is for you, feel it throb just below your cunt, grind his hips up to you still so retrained and held back that he has to beg you to ride him. He might as well ask for it.
“…unless that’s too extreme.” You mutter, expecting a response. Nothing. Did he zone out again? What’s going on with Valko to be so distracted? He wasn’t like this last month. “Look, I know the full moon can be a messy time for you, and now that it’s a supermoon it could be worse, but I’d prefer you to actually respond— oh.”
Valko is drooling. Valko’s eyes are glazed over. Valko is blushing beyond relief. And Valko is sporting a rock hard boner.
The silence that stretches between you would have been uncomfortable, it should have been. But you seem to enjoy the rough pants that escape his lips, how his hands are balled into fists to keep himself at bay. How the veins on his neck are far more prominent now.
You sink your teeth into your lower lip, hoping you won’t say anything foolish.
“Don’t laugh.” Valko grits, his fluffy ears drooping a little.
“I wasn’t going to.” You say, trying to ignore the fact that your lips are twitching into a smile.
You glance down from his agitated golden eyes to his neck, to his large muscular chest covered by the black tank you always find so attractive on him, to the taper of his waist, to the pulsing print of his cock bulging against his pants.
Now that you think of it, you two haven’t shared the bed recently. You’ve both been so busy with work that neither of you have had time for each other. And you’ve been very wound up these last few days.
“I think we should figure out what restraints will be good for you.” A purr follows your words as you rest your hands on his chest. Muscular, warm, huge chest that you love to sleep on. You’re making this much, much worse and you know it. You can hear it in the groan that rumbles in his chest.
“Oh, is it getting worse?” You play an aloof demeanour, reaching to caress the soft ears on his head, making sure to rub on that sensitive spot where his hair is its softest. A soft moan escapes Valko’s lips as his golden eyes flutter closed.
“Please…”
“What do you need me to do, my love?” Your lips ghost the shell of his fleshy ear, tongue peeking out to trace the shell. He shudders, head lowering to give you more access, hips rocking towards you so you can feel just what you need to do.
You don’t want that, though. He has to say it.
“I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”
A pained moan rushes right into your ear as he drops a part of his weight on you. Valko doesn’t want to say it but he also wants to say it. It doesn’t make sense. This heated state is driving him insane, and you’re giving him such a clear path to relief. But what he wants is different from what you usually do… will you agree?
With a shaky breath, Valko nuzzles the side of your neck, mustering the will to confess his desire. “You have to tell me no if you can’t do it.”
“I will.” You reassure him, stroking his soft hair. His arms wrap tight around you, grounding himself in your presence as the words unknot themselves to flow out.
“If you’re grossed out—“
“I won’t be grossed out, Val.” You softly say, rubbing circles into his lower back. “Nothing about you grosses me out. I trust you, so you need to trust that I’ll handle whatever you need and that I’ll tell you if I can’t. Outside of cannibalism, I'm not doing that.”
That makes him chuckle. “You’ll tell me the second you’re uncomfortable?”
“The millisecond.”
His next request comes out more sheepishly. “You’ll tell me I’m doing good?”
“I’ll put a poet to shame.”
“Pull my hair?”
“Put a collar on you too if you’re feeling feisty.”
A sigh of relief escapes Valko’s lips. Oh, he loves you. Finally, he pulls his face away from your neck to level your gaze with fresh determination on his face. “I want you to tie me to the chair, and ride the shit outta me.”
Ask and ye shall receive, as you hear them say.
It was easy to put Valko on a chair especially when he's drunk on your kisses, hungrily biting marks into your bare chest and stomach, gripping your hips so tight you’d think he’s terrified that you’ll run. It was easier to get soaked just from watching him strip for you— that, and having his fingers curl so good inside your cunt as he slurped and lapped at your clit.
The only ‘difficult’ part was restraining him to the chair, legs, arms, and torso roped tight, and that’s just because he’s antsy whenever the full moon happens.
But something about this supermoon has got him more riled up than usual. Why, you ask?
You’ve been bouncing on the man’s cock for two hours.
You’re not complaining, you love every second of this. Your walls are fluttering around him as he slides in and out of you so easily, caught by you keeping his fat tip inside leaking all that sticky, hot precum before you drop into his lap again and again and again.
“Val— ooh, fuck!” Your praise has otherwise become mush, slurred moans of his name and whatever adulation could come to mind. Valko doesn’t mind since he isn't doing any better. If anything, he’s lost the need to think.
“S-So good,” His throat is torn from how loud he’s been, his hips jutting into you even with his thick, corded thighs roped down to the chair. His tail is slapping the floor, his fluffy ears are twitching. He can barely move, limbs strapped down and a collar wrapped around his neck at his own request. And he loves it.
He wants to cum so bad. But then he’d end up swelling so much that he’d be stuck for hours, just grinding and grinding and plugging his seed inside instead of feeling you slap down on him with each rise and fall of your full hips. He wouldn’t have your soft breasts bouncing in his face, or feel your hands scratch his undercut and pull his hair, or hear the hiccups in your voice or the ragged moans in his own.
Why make this pleasure so short-lived when he can prolong it?
His cock is leaking like a faucet, keeping him smooth and wet for you to use him as you please, pulsing with the desire to just release. His sacks are drawn up tight, literally clenching with enough cum to repopulate a country, and yet he still won’t give in.
Valko drags his tongue up your jaw all the way to your cheekbone. “ ‘m I fuckin’ you good?”
“Hah— mhm. Such a good boy.” You ramble into his lips as you kiss him, slipping your tongue inside to taste him as if he isn’t all that you can sense. “So big and thick and hot… so— Valko— so full ‘f you, want you deeper, you’re so good!”
You’re on orgasm number five by now, gripping onto Valko’s strong shoulders for dear life, back arched, tugging his hair like you want to rip his red locks off. It’s the supermoon, you tell yourself, it must be shooting his stamina through the roof.
It fucking has to be if he’s been rutting into you like a bullet train without cumming even once. His girth twitches with every rock of your plush hips, it leaks and weeps inside you every time you squeeze him hard enough to cut off his blood flow. It has to hurt, prolonging his climax for this long.
Valko likes it that way. He likes the hurt. He likes the way his body just responds to you so well, like you’re made for each other. You have to be.
Your knees are starting to ache. Your thighs are burning from the constant bouncing up and down his thick length but the feeling of him dragging through your walls with each vein pressing against your walls is too good. The overwhelming bump of his cockhead kissing your cervix may just tip you over the edge again. The fucking curve of his cock and the angle just lets him reach the sensitive nerves of your g-spot so good every damn time!
You love these fucking supermoons.
“Valko,” You hum, licking his lips then his chin and jaw, your breath heavy as you maintain your pace. Just a few more and you’ll be in pure bliss. But you need him there with you. “I’m close. I’m so close. Hnn, need you— cum with me.”
“You— oh, you sure?” He whimpers, nuzzling you as you lick the tears off his cheeks. “I’ll—“
“Knot me, mhm.” You nod, rubbing your nose into his cheek, inhaling his scent. This man’s frenzied behaviour has been rubbing off on you too much, not that there’s reason to complain. “You’re gonna swell up so fuckin’ thick, yeah?”
He nods. “Gonna plug all that cum in me, keep it warm inside while you grind ’n rut into me?”
“Yeah,” He affirms, his arms pulling against the restraints. Is this what you want? You want him to bond with you to that much of an intimate extent? You must truly love him. “ ’m gonna stay in you the whole night, snug inside. But I like when you ride me.” You can feel him pouting as he pecks your skin. So cute.
“Then you’ll be a good boy, right?” You coo, your hands cupping his face as you press your thumbs on his lower lip. “Cum with me, and stay inside all night.” You fight every urge to give in to the pleasure when he bites your fingers.
You suck his upper lip, letting your moans vibrate into his. “Can you do that for me?”
Valko’s a simple man. You ask for something and he’ll give it to you with a smile. Like he is now, canines bared, tongue lapping at your fingers before he attacks your lips with a bruising, hot kiss. He pulls away just for a second to mutter against your mouth, “I love you.”
“I know, baby.” You huff, smiling into the kiss as you scratch his fluffy ears. Valko’s hips rut up faster and you can feel his cock swell at the base, almost ready to be plugged into you. Oh, he is so going to eat his cum out of you once he’s soft. “Now be good and cum with me.”
how do i get a submissive werewolf to mark me? just edge him until he does!!
wc: 1,441
content: f!reader, reader and valko are both switches? nicknames like puppy, good boy. praising and degrading, fang play, blood, biting, marking, mention of knotting, mention of exhibitionism, he has his ears and tail k, hybrid?? edging, unedited (soz i wrote FAST)
the forest surrounding your village had been riddled with werewolves for as long as you’d been alive. your parents and the elders have always warned you away from them, saying that those who go into the woods at night are either never seen again or are found mangled and half-eaten.
you’d hear the snarls and snaps of their jaws some nights, wondering if they were fighting over a deer or someone stupid enough to wander in there. normally, if it were the latter, you’d hear screams you could never unhear.
werewolves were volatile, possessive, and predatory- they were said to be the most dominant creatures on the earth. so why had this werewolf been submitting to you for months now?
you’re sitting on his lap, his thick cock pressed against your belly leaking pre and staining your thin slip. he’d long since ripped off your pajamas, the fabric somewhere shredded on the ground.
your hand pumps him slowly, torturing him with the pace. he knew better than to do that- how many times had you gotten onto him about ruining your outfits?! you weren't made of money, and your parents were starting to catch on to your clothes all having strange stitching holding them together!
“did i tell you to stop?” you chastise him, your free hand reaching up to grab his fluffy ear, pulling his head back.
valko whines and looks up at you with golden eyes, eyebrows pulling together. “it feels too good, i got distracted-”
“hm.” you drop the hand that was pumping him. “fine. since you can’t handle two things at once, you’ll lose your privileges."
“no, please.” he begs, head going back to where you wanted it in the crook of your neck.
his rough tongue licked up and down the column of your neck, lapping at it.
you hum happily, hand instinctively going back to stroking him, faster than before. “good boyy, see, you know how to listen after all.”
he nods and whimpers, tongue kitten licking the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. the exact spot you’d been begging him to bite for weeks.
maybe if you play your cards right this time, he would finally do it?
“such a sweet puppy, aren't you?” you ask, voice low in the way he likes it. you tighten your fingers at his tip, watching as he leaks out and stains your fingers.
though you didn’t have much experience with human men, you knew enough to know that werewolves had much larger cocks. you hadn’t even let him fuck you yet due to the sheer size of him- you were sure it would break you.
valko’s fluffy tail wags at your praise. “uh huhh, i’ve been so good. waited for you, haven’t touched myself in a week- mmh!” he shudders when you slide a finger over his slit.
you nod in approval, scratching behind one of his ears. he leans into the scratching, an eye closing in pleasure.
“i’ve almost got you trained then, haven’t i? such a strong creature tamed by a human.” you huff out a laugh, hand moving faster as you try to get him close. “how pathetic. what if the rest of your pack saw you like this?”
valko growled, the sound low and barely there. he knew better than to truly defy you, keeping his annoyance to a minimum. his tongue continued to lick, the roughness scratching at your skin like sandpaper.
you took his silence as an answer, and his panting as a sign that he was close. close enough for you to try once again.
“wanna cum?”
valko nodded and tried to look up at you from his position at your neck, golden eyes glowing slightly and pleading with yours. “please?”
you shivered at his voice. despite his physical submission to you, his voice always reminded you that he was a dangerous predator. it was deep, not at all like the airy and whiny voices of submissive human men you’d encountered.
maybe that’s why you were so fond of him- knowing that if he truly wanted to, he could kill you. but he won’t, because you’ve got him trained like he’s no more than a stray.
you halt your hand on his cock once more, making him whine and arch his back. “mark me and i’ll let you cum.” you purr into his fuzzy ear, biting down on the peak of it.
valko rears back, his face contorting from the blissed out state it was just in to the tense scowl he normally wears when he’s not with you.
“you know i can’t mark you, it wouldn’t be safe.”
he tries to back up, but you keep an iron grip on the base of his cock, holding him still. “marking me is the only way to keep me safe- how stupid are you? your packmates are going to find out about this eventually, do you think they’ll let me live?”
valko doesn’t look convinced. he scoffs and shakes his head. “marking you brings attention to you, right now no one knows you exist. they won’t be happy that i chose a human as my mate, either.”
you raise an eyebrow at his defiance. “hm. fine.” you stand and brush your slip off. “if you can’t have a human as your mate, you shouldn’t have one as your fuck buddy then either, should y- hey!”
you yelp as valko grabs your wrists and yanks you back down onto his lap. he puts your hand back on his cock, wrapping your fingers around it as he strokes himself over you.
his voice comes out gravely and rough against your skin. “fine. if i mark you, you understand that i have to knot you also?”
you swallow hard and think about it. if you thought his dick would be too big for you, how hard would the knot be to take..?
you clench around nothing at the idea, wetness already seeping through your thin panties. the answer was a no-brainer.
“deal.”
no sooner than the word left your mouth did valko bite down on the juncture between neck and shoulder. the pain was excruciating, causing you to scream and writhe on his lap.
snarls and howls sounded in the background, no doubt in response to your screaming. normally, you’d be terrified, because having a whole pack hunting you would lead to your death, but you weren’t worried.
they couldn’t hurt you, not with valko’s mark on you. the bite left your head fuzzy and your body tingling.
valko was licking your wound over with care, a sound like purring emanating from him. after he deemed it properly cared for, he looked your face over to make sure you were okay.
“don’t pass out on me, puppy.” he teases, hand cradling the back of your head as he smiles.
he’s still moving your hand in time with his on his cock, albeit slower than before.
your eyes zero in on his teeth- more specifically his fangs that are coated in your blood from the bond mark.
without even thinking, you lean forward and lick his fangs, tasting your own metallic blood.
a strangled moan left valko when you did this, unintentionally sending him over the edge. his hips bucked up into the hands you both had around him, cum spurting out in thick streams, landing on both of your chests.
how were you supposed to know that werewolves had sensitive fangs?
once his high wore down, you heard loud footsteps approaching and panicked. “should we go? what if-”
valko hummed and nuzzled his nose into the mark he left on you. “no, no no, i still have to knot you, remember? now who’s the one that doesn’t listen.” he teases.
you glare at him. if your mind wasn’t so fuzzy, you’d put him back in his place. maaaybe you could let him be in charge for once…
“you’re not gonna take me somewhere nicer to fuck me?”
valko looks around in confusion. “what’s wrong with this?”
you raise an eyebrow at him and tap your hand on the hard dirt you. “uh, maybe that it’s hard and, i don’t know, the forest floor?”
valko shrugged and maneuvered you onto your back, crawling over you and pushing one sode of your slip up. “it won’t hurt.” he kisses between your breasts.
“what about when your pack shows up? you’re going to let them see me naked?”
valko rubs his thick tip against your soaked panties, tilting his head. “let them watch. it’s customary for packmates to watch each other mate.” his golden eyes meet yours and he smirks slightly. “you’ll get the full experience.”
a/n: THIS IS MY MAN THIS IS MY MAIN IDCCCC also im prepared for him to be crazy ooc when his content drops lolz. ive never written anything like this before so if i missed tagging smth PLS let me know so i can add it!!
thick moon divider from @uzmacchiato , thin moon divider from @cyberangel-graphics
rating: explicit/nsfw
category: f/m, caleb/reader, reader-insert
tags: childhood friends to lovers, pseudocest, mutual pining, domesticity, playfight, sexual tension, homecoming, suppressed!caleb, yearning!caleb, submissive top!caleb, insecure!caleb, forced proximity, forbidden/risky, “be quiet, granny will hear us”, making out, dryhumping, p in v, mirror sex, backshots, leg hooking, aftercare, i think that's it?
wordcount: 15.9k
PREVIEW : “wait, what the hell?!” you gasped, your hands flying up in a knee-jerk reaction to push him back, but caleb's hands immediately shot forward to pin you back down against the couch. “see?” caleb murmured, leaning down closer, his hot breath fanning across your cheeks, smelling faintly of the mint gum he'd been chewing. “you couldn't even move before i did this. you can't even defend yourself, you silly girl. that means you still need me to protect you.”
SYNOPSIS : what was supposed to be a casual homecoming quickly devolves into a suffocating game of unspoken jealousy and long-awaited confessions where every shared glance and tight space threatens to collapse the boundaries of your childhood friendship. trapped between the ticking clock of his limited sixty-day leave and the terrifyingly possessive reality of how much he’s missed you, will the tension eventually snap?
caleb is coming back this summer.
the heat of early june in the province always carried a specific kind of weight, heavy with the scent of sun-baked asphalt, dry grass, and the faint rot of fallen mangoes in the backyard. it was summer, finally! the kind of summer that felt less like a break and more like a threshold. you had just wrapped up your sophomore year at the state university down the road, a year spent navigating crowded lecture halls, cheap iced coffees, and a revolving door of new faces that you tried very hard to care about.
for the first time in your life ever since, you and caleb hadn't shared a daily routine.
after eighteen years of being so aggressively attached at the hip that your shadows practically bled together, the last four years had seen you both drifted into your own separate worlds. it was a strange, quiet realization: you both had lives of your own now.
caleb had packed his bags for that prestigious aerospace academy up north, his childhood fascination with the sky hardening into a fierce passion for flying. you, on the other hand, had stayed behind anchored to the familiar soil of your hometown just to float between random orgs, shifting friend groups, and the vague pursuit of figuring out who you were when you weren't “caleb and his girl.”
and today, he was coming home....
the question had been humming under your skin all morning, rhythmic and annoying like a cicada’s buzz. did caleb change? would he look different? act different?
the last time you saw him in the flesh, right before his departure, he had already begun to outgrow the lanky, boyish frame you could map with your eyes closed. his shoulders had broadened, his jawline cutting a sharper silhouette against the terminal lights. he had looked less like the boy who used to help you steal guavas from the neighbor's tree and more like a stranger you'd cross the street to look twice at.
”make sure you tell him to eat properly while he's here,” granny had mumbled earlier this morning, her voice thick with sleep as she shuffled around the kitchen, adjusting the mesh food cover over a plate of fried rice. “that boy always forgets to look after himself when he's excited.”
you had laughed, buzzing with a restless, frantic energy, nodding quickly as you practically flew out the screen door. you didn't even bother putting on real shoes—just slipped your feet into a pair of worn-out rubber slippers, the soles thin enough that you could feel the morning grit of the driveway beneath your arches.
gideon’s car was already idling by the gate, the exhaust coughing a pale plume of smoke into the crisp morning air. gideon, caleb's friend and the closest thing you both had to another brother, had come back from the city a few days earlier because of some vague corporate endeavor he refused to elaborate on. his early return was a stroke of luck; it meant you didn't have to brave the crowded public transportation to get to the drop-off terminal.
“look who finally crawled out of bed,” gideon teased as you yanked the backdoor open and threw yourself into the backseat. the leather was cool against the backs of your thighs, a sharp contrast to the mounting humidity outside.
“i've been up since five, actually,” you shot back, leaning forward so your chin was practically resting on the gap between the two front seats. “go, go, go. we're going to be late, gideon!”
“we have forty minutes, calm down,” gideon chuckled, throwing the car into reverse with practiced ease. his hand spun the steering wheel effortlessly as he backed out onto the main road.
the moment the car straightened out, you immediately started. you couldn't help it. the questions poured out of you in a breathless stream, all of them centered around the one person who hadn't been here. because gideon and caleb were in the same university for college, gideon was your only real window into caleb’s new life.
“is he still doing those crazy flight simulator hours? did he actually pass his survival training or did he cry? does he still sleep with three pillows? is he... does he look different, gideon? like, really different?”
gideon navigated the familiar potholes of the provincial highway, answering each query with a patient nod of his head. he was used to this. he had been the buffer between you and caleb ever since.
“he's fine. still a nerd about planes,” gideon said, glancing at you through the rearview mirror with a knowing smirk. “he passed the survival drills with top marks, obviously. you know how he is. he doesn't cry over dirt. and yeah, he's bigger. the academy makes them do a lot of physical training. he looks like a proper pilot now.”
you listened to every word, your head tilting slightly, your eyes fixed on the back of gideon's head. you were listening so attentively it almost hurt, your ears straining for something specific. a name, maybe. a habit. a detail that sounded wrong, or a hint of a girl, or a sign that he had completely outgrown the small-town girl who used to share his umbrella. you were waiting for a phrase that would confirm your deepest, unvoiced fear: that he had left you behind in the dust of the province.
but that piece of information didn't arrive. gideon just kept talking about credit hours, physical exams, and flight logistics.
“anyway,” gideon clears his throat, switching gears as he turned onto the long stretch of road leading to the junction. “enough about the golden boy. how's state uni treating you? your granny said you joined some theater production crew last month. you making friends?”
the spark in your chest caught a sudden, damp chill. your posture slumped just a fraction, the manic energy leaving your shoulders as quickly as it had arrived. the topic was no longer caleb.
“oh. yeah. it's fine,” you murmured, your voice dropping an octave. “the theater stuff was just for a midterm project. it's over now. and friends... yeah, they're okay. we go to the diner near the campus sometimes.” it sounded dull. it sounded incredibly small compared to aerospace academies and survival training and flying through clouds.
sensing your sudden shift in mood but choosing not to press it, gideon just hummed, turning up the radio slightly.
you leaned back against the seat, suddenly feeling the distance between your body and the front of the car. with a slow movement, you pressed the button on the door panel, letting the window roll down all the way.
you were going to see him in less than fifteen minutes. and for the first time in your life, you were terrified of what his smile might look like now.
with a restless groan, you shifted your weight, sliding down the leather until you were lying flat across the length of the backseat. you lifted your legs, balancing your heels against the rim of the lowered window frame, letting the rushing wind blow right over your bare toes. the bright summer sunlight hit your face in a sudden wash, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut as the shadows of roadside acacia trees flickered across your eyelids like a film strip.
gideon glanced back through the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. “what exactly is the strategy here? are we airing out your feet, or are you trying to slide out of the car entirely?”
“shh,” you muttered, not opening your eyes, just waving a hand dismissively in his general direction. “don't ruin the vibe, gideon. i'm getting into character. when we get there, i'm going to pretend to be asleep.”
“and why, pray tell, are we faking a coma?”
“because,” you mumbled, your voice dropping into a stubborn drone. “he's been gone for four years acting all professional and pilot-like. i'm not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me standing at the curb like an eager puppy. if i'm asleep, he has to wait for me to wake up.”
gideon let out an amused snort but didn't argue further, slowing the vehicle down as he navigated the chaotic entrance of the terminal. the air became a noisy symphony of sputtering engines, the loud barking of barkers calling out destinations, and the heavy hiss of bus brakes.
then, the car came to a full stop. the engine remained idling, its low vibration humming right through your spine as you lay flat on the seat.
you heard the tinny ring of gideon’s phone bridging the gap over the dashboard, followed by the click of the answer button. gideon didn't even put it to his ear; he just left it on speaker, the sound cutting through the air-conditioned cabin.
“yeah? where are you? i'm near the main exit, by the yellow bakery,”
”oop, i see the car,” a voice replied.
that was caleb!
your breath hitched, catching sharply in your throat. it was him. it was caleb. even through the cheap, compressed audio of a phone speaker, there was no mistaking that specific cadence—that easy, slightly raspy, slow-rolling tone that always sounded like he was hiding a joke behind his teeth. it was exactly the same.
“alright, hurry up. the traffic enforcer is already looking at me sideways,” gideon said, hanging up.
panic, sudden and entirely irrational, flared up under your ribs. you scrambled to pull your legs down from the window, tucking your knees slightly toward your chest, and threw your right arm over your eyes, effectively blocking out the blinding glare of the sun and the view of the front seats. you squeezed your eyelids shut until you saw spots, forcing your breathing to slow down.
just act natural. you're asleep. you've been sleeping the whole ride.
the crunch of boots on gravel outside the car door was your only warning. and then, the front passenger door clicked and swung open. “hey!”
your heart nearly leaped right out of your chest. the sheer force of it hammered against your ribs so violently you were terrified he would actually hear it over the sound of everything else. you closed your eyes even tighter, your arm pressing down hard against your brow line.
“man, you look like you survived a war,” gideon’s voice boomed, followed by the rustle of clothing as the two of them exchanged a brief half-hug across the console.
“more like two years of institutionalized sleep deprivation,” caleb replied, his voice much louder now, much closer, vibrating from the seat right in front of your head. the car door slammed shut with a heavy thud, sealing the three of you inside the quiet space.
there was a brief rustle of a duffel bag being shoved into the footwell, and then a sudden pause. you could feel the exact moment his attention shifted.
”is... she dead?” caleb asked, his tone dropping into that familiar, amused lilt.
“passed out about ten minutes ago,” gideon lied without a single hitch in his voice. god, you owed him a premium coffee for this. “she was buzzing around the house since five in the morning, then collapsed the second we hit the highway.”
a loaded silence descended upon the car as gideon shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb. you lay frozen, every muscle in your body stiff with the effort of remaining limp. you could feel caleb’s weight shifting in the front seat, the leather creaking slightly as he turned his upper body around to look back at you.
even with your arm covering your face, you could feel the weight of his stare burning through the fabric of your sleeve.
then, a low huff of a laugh escaped him.
“silly girl,” caleb murmured, the word dripping with an irritatingly affectionate playfulness. “still a sleepyhead. some things really don't change, do they?”
gideon steered the car back onto the main road, the smooth roll of the tires replacing the chaotic noise of the terminal. “i don't know about that. she’s grown up quite a bit while you were gone, caleb. she’s not the little girl who used to cry when you stole her slippers anymore. she's at state uni now. got her own thing going on.”
there was another pause, a tiny stretch of time where the only sound was the hum of the engine.
“yeah,” caleb said, his voice shifting into a tone that was harder to read, more contemplative. “i can see that. she looks different.”
“don't let the height fool you, though,” gideon chuckled, glancing at the rearview mirror. “she’s still a menace. but yeah, you probably can't carry her around with one arm like you used to.”
“please, i can absolutely still carry her with one arm.” a fleshy slap echoed through the front seat—the sound of caleb smacking his own bicep or forearm or whatever to prove a point. “these muscles aren't just for show, gid. i could lift her and her bags without breaking a sweat.”
god, the urge to open your eyes was so overwhelming it was almost a physical ache in your chest. you wanted to throw your arm off your face, look at him, and tell him to shut his stupid mouth just like old times. you wanted to see exactly how broad his shoulders had gotten, wanted to see if his hair was still cut short and neat, wanted to see if that annoying, arrogant little smirk was plastered across his face. but the weight of your own realization—the sudden consciousness of him not just as caleb, but as a man who could effortlessly lift you—kept you completely pinned to the leather.
“whatever you say, pilot boy.” gideon laughed, shaking his head as he accelerated down the open road.
the comfortable rhythm of their conversation was broken by the sharp click of gideon’s turn signal. the car slowed down, veering off the main highway and pulling up.
“alright, cay, this is me,” gideon unbuckles his seatbelt with a crisp click. “i need to drop by this studio for that project archive i told you about. you take the wheel from here. just park the car back at granny's house when you guys get back.”
“yeah, sure. no problem,”
wait, what?
gideon was leaving?
panic flared up again as you stayed perfectly still, listening intently to the rustle of clothes, the sound of gideon opening the passenger door, and the heavy thud of his boots hitting the gravel outside. there was a brief exchange of instructions—gideon reminding caleb about a loose wire near the stereo dashboard—and then the driver’s side door opened. the car dipped slightly under a new weight as caleb slid effortlessly into the driver's seat.
the door slammed shut. the heavy, reassuring presence of gideon was gone, replaced entirely by caleb’s proximity.
he adjusted the seat, sliding it back a few inches to accommodate his longer legs. then, the car smoothly pulled back onto the road. and god, the silence that followed was deafening. without gideon’s easygoing banter filling the cabin, the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the rush of the wind through your open window.
should you open your eyes now? if you wake up now, it'll look natural. just a casual yawn, and—
a subtle tug pulled at the crown of your head.
it wasn't painful. it was incredibly light. you felt a hand reaching over the center console, two fingers winding carefully around a single stray strand of your hair, giving it a teasing little pull.
your eyes flew open.
through the gap between the front seats, you finally saw him—caleb driving effortlessly with his right hand on the steering wheel, his left hand extended backward over the armrest with his thumb and index finger still lightly holding the end of your hair. he didn't even look back at you; his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.
but his eyes flicked upward, locking onto yours through the rearview mirror.
the corners of his eyes crinkled instantly, breaking into that utterly familiar expression. that lazy, arrogant, beautiful smile spread across his lips.
“got a good sleep, pips? your gege's back now.”
the nickname—the one he used to demand you call him when you were kids just to annoy you—should have earned him an immediate eye-roll or a sharp kick to the back of his seat. but you couldn't even bring yourself to reply. your tongue felt thick, glued to the roof of your mouth.
you just stared, agape, taking him in for the first time in four whole years.
he looked like a man.
caleb's eyes flicked up to the mirror again, catching the exact moment your gaze drifted from his face down to his shoulders, and then back up. your wide-eyed, breathless silence was loud. too loud.
for a split second, the easy smirk on caleb’s face faltered. his prominent adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, a sudden patch of color rising along his neck. he cleared his throat, a slightly tense sound, and quickly looked back at the road, his fingers letting go of your hair as he pulled his hand back to the steering wheel.
“what's with the face?” he asked, trying hard to force that casual lilt back into his tone. “you look like you've seen a ghost.”
you quickly sat up, pulling your legs inward and smoothing down your shirt, desperately trying to find your footing. “you look different, that's all. the academy must be starving you if you've gone all that just to survive.”
“starving? please. they feed us like racehorses,” caleb scoffed, though the response felt a little rehearsed, a little too quick as he kept his eyes glued strictly on the asphalt ahead. “but thanks for noticing. glad to know my hard work isn't lost on a provincial girl like you.”
you leaned your cheek against your hand, looking out the side window to hide the heat rushing into your own face.
somehow, the conversation didn't go the way you had scripted it in your head over the last four years. you hadn't greeted each other like two people who had spent their entire lives attached at the hip, starved for each other's presence. there were no desperate questions, no breathy laughter, no clumsy, overwhelming hugs that left you smelling like his cologne.
instead, you were simply staring out the side window, watching the green expanse of the provincial rice fields blur into a smear of dusty emerald, and then he was simply driving.
“so, state u,” caleb started, “gran says you're keeping busy. how's the actual college life treating you?”
“it's fine,” you replied, your voice matching his even tone. you kept your eyes fixed on a passing billboard outside. “it's a lot of reading, but my blockmates are nice. i usually hang out with maya and javi after our afternoon lectures. we found this cheap diner near the campus that serves really good sizzling meat.”
“maya and javi,” caleb repeated, testing the names on his tongue as if trying to fit them into the map of your life. he nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the road. “that's good. it's good that you found your crowd.”
“mm. javi's in the theater crew too, so we usually walk home together when rehearsals run late.” you added, offering the detail up like a shield.
why did it end up like this? why did the air between you feel so thick, so cautious, as if a single wrong word would shatter a boundary neither of you had openly acknowledged yet?
“what about you?” you asked, trying to sound completely nonchalant, keeping your gaze trained on the side mirror. “must be nice up at the academy. you probably have a whole new circle of pilot friends.”
“yeah. the guys in my barracks are solid. we complain about the flight instructors together. it keeps us sane.”
and then, that's where it happened.
“any... girls?” the word slipped out of your mouth a little too smoothly, a little too practiced. “i mean, the uniform probably does half the work for you up there.”
the car went starkly silent.
caleb didn't answer right away. he shifted his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening just a fraction before he relaxed them. it took a long drawn-out pause for him to reply.
finally, a gentle smile spread across his face—but it wasn't his usual mischievous smirk.
“yeah,” caleb said quietly, his eyes softening as he looked out at the highway ahead. “actually, there is. i've got a pretty massive crush on someone from the nursing college nearby. i'm planning on courting her this coming semester.”
oh. okay.
you didn't say anything for a moment, letting the sound of his confession hang in the air between you like heavy smoke.
”that's nice. good luck with that.”
wanting nothing more than to disappear into the upholstery, you leaned further back against the leather of the seat. and you lifted your legs again, resting your ankles on the open window frame just like you had earlier. you stared straight into the blinding, white-hot summer sunlight, letting the glare sting your eyes until they watered, using the heat as an excuse for the burning sensation behind your eyelids.
college really is horrible. it really does change everything and everyone, doesn't it? it takes the boy who used to swear he'd never care about anyone more than you, sends him away for four years, and brings back a stranger who belongs to someone else.
you watched the provincial scenery go into a blurring motion as caleb pressed down on the accelerator, speed being his only response to the quiet.
suddenly, caleb cleared his throat, a nervous cough breaking the quiet. “what about you, pips? you mentioned that javi guy. do you... have a boyfriend now?”
you blinked, your eyes still stinging from the sunlight. you didn't even have to think about it. “no.”
within minutes, caleb steered the car smoothly up the gravel driveway of granny's home, pulling up right under the shade of the large mango tree. the engine died with a final, shuddering purr, leaving only the loud clicking of the cicadas in the backyard to fill the space.
you kept your ankles resting on the window frame, your eyes closed against the light.
then, you heard the rustle of caleb's heavy duffel bag being pulled from the footwell, and the solid thud of his boots hitting the gravel. but instead of walking straight to the house, the sound of his footsteps looped around to your side of the car.
a shadow suddenly fell over your face, blocking out the harsh heat of the sun.
you opened your eyes a fraction, only to see that caleb was leaning his arms against the window frame, his broad shoulders completely framing the opening. he looked down at you, a golden-boy smile playing on his lips.
“we're here, sleepyhead,” his voice still carried that warmth that used to make you feel so safe, but now it just felt like salt on an open wound. “aren't you coming out? granny’s probably already waiting at the door.”
you quickly averted your gaze, looking past his shoulder at the porch of the house, avoiding his eyes entirely.
“you go ahead.”
—
the heavy heat of mid-afternoon had dissolved by the time your eyes fluttered open, replaced by the long-shadowed stillness of late gold.
you groaned, a sharp ache radiating through your lower back and neck from the impossibly cramped angle you’d been knotted into across the backseat. four hours. you had actually managed to pass out for four hours in the belly of a dead car.
you pushed the heavy car door open, your thin slippers slapping against the gravel as you stepped out into the humid yard. stretching your arms over your head until your joints popped, you shook out your numb legs, half-hopping, half-limping your way up the porch steps and pulling the screen door open with a lazy rattle.
the house was strangely quiet.
“granny?” you called out, your voice still thick and raspy from sleep. no answer. you tilted your head, wandering past the dark living room where the old wooden rocking chair sat still, and followed a faint metallic clinking toward the kitchen.
when you stepped over the threshold, the words caught squarely in your throat.
caleb, completely shirtless, bent over the kitchen sink with his back turned to you. a chaotic battlefield of rusty wrenches, tattered rags, and rolls of teflon tape were scattered all over the tiled countertop beside him. he was clearly deep-cleaning the drain and trying to muscle a stubborn leaking pipe back into place, his skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat that caught the amber sunset filtering through the small window.
from this angle, the reality of how much he had changed hit you like a physical blow. but it was when he leaned further down into the cabinet under the sink that your eyes inevitably landed on the silver chain hanging from his neck, the metal dogtag swinging loosely against his collarbone.
you swallowed hard, forcing your gaze upward, and cleared your throat loudly to break the spell. “where's granny?”
the sudden interruption made caleb flinch violently, his entire torso jerking upward in surprise as the back of his head collided with the edge of the upper cabinet.
“ouch!”
”clumsy idiot.” you muttered.
caleb slowly turned around, still wincing, and looked up at you from his crouched position. you caught the distinct, deliberate way his gaze traveled down your frame—taking in your post-nap hair, your dumb shirt, and your bare legs—before flicking back up to settle on your face. the intensity of it lasted only a fraction of a second before his easy golden-boy mask slid right back into place.
“granny went down the road,” he casually leaned his hip against the counter, completely unbothered by his lack of a shirt. “visited mrs. alvarez or someone. said she’d be back before dinner.”
trying to appear completely casual, you walked past him, keeping a careful radius of distance between your shoulder and his bare chest, and opened the refrigerator door. the cool air hit your face as you grabbed the heavy glass pitcher of water.
“look who finally decided to join the land of the living,” caleb watched you pull a glass from the cupboard. “four hours, pipsqueak? i was about to check if you still had a pulse. you sleep like a log.”
you poured the water, keeping your back to him as you scoffed. “i had to make up for the four years of peace and quiet i'm about to lose now that you're back to annoy me.”
behind you, caleb let out a bright, boyish laugh—the kind of chesty sound that filled the entire room and made him look exactly like the sixteen-year-old boy you grew up with.
“yeah, yeah, keep talking...” chuckling, he wipes his sweaty brow with the back of his forearm. he leaned closer to the table, his eyes shining with a sudden eager spark. “hey, are you free tomorrow? they opened that new amusement park by the bypass road while i was gone. i was thinking we could go. just the two of us, like old times.”
you raised the glass to your lips, using the movement to buy yourself time as his words settled heavily in your stomach. like old times. but it wouldn't be like old times. not with him looking like this, and certainly not with a nursing student waiting for him up north.
you set the glass down on the counter with a soft click, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before looking at him. “can't tomorrow. i already have somewhere to go with a friend.”
“a friend?” his brow furrowed, a deep line cutting between his eyes as he stared at you. “since when did you choose a friend over me?”
the confusion on his face was almost comical, because it was a look you knew intimately—the look caleb gave whenever the universe didn't bend to his precise specifications. it was intensely ironic, a hypocritical double standard that made you want to scream. he could go off to the city, rebuild his entire life, and find a nursing student to court, but the second you had a life outside of this gravel driveway, the rules suddenly changed?
“just a friend from state u.” you said airily, turning on your heel and walking out of the kitchen. “you're not the only one who got a change of scenery, caleb. i’m all grown up now. i actually have a life and people outside of this house.”
you hear the heavy, silent thud of his bare feet following you, the sheer mass of him trailing you into the small living room like a shadow you couldn't shake. you threw yourself onto the worn-out fabric of the sofa, grabbing the dusty remote control to click the television on.
instead of sitting down on the opposite armchair, caleb came to a halt right at the edge of the sofa, looming over you. he crossed his arms over his bare chest, his shadow completely blocking out the remaining amber light of the sunlight.
“i'm serious,” he muttered, carrying that infuriatingly paternal tone he used whenever he wanted to control a situation. “don't go hanging out with people alone just that easily. you're too trusting. the city might be a mess, but the town isn't exactly a sanctuary either. shit is unpredictable, and people have motives.”
you let out an incredulous laugh, snapping your head up to look at him.
“you should know that if you’re a grown up as you claim to be.“ caleb added.
you raised a single eyebrow, your lips curling into a mocking smile. “what are you implying, then? that you still need to protect me? that i can't handle a simple afternoon coffee without my big, strong gege holding my hand?”
caleb’s eyes narrowed, a dark glint flickering in his irises. “should i not? just because we were apart for a couple of years doesn't mean you get to be careless. you've always been too stubborn for your own good.”
“yeah, well, you should not.” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you turned your attention back to the television screen, where a loud game show was playing to an empty audience. “i'm [age] years old, caleb. i am quite literally not a kid anymore. so stop acting like a hypocrite when you're the one who—”
“let’s test that theory.”
before the breath could even leave your lungs, the cushion beside you sank violently. caleb lunged forward with a terrifying fluidity that you had never seen from him before. your brain didn't even have time to process the movement before the heavy, solid weight of his knees dug brutally into the foam of the sofa, effectively pinning the fabric down on either side of your hips.
in a fraction of a second, you were completely trapped. he had closed the distance so aggressively that you were locked between his thighs, his massive shirtless chest looming inches from your face.
“wait—what the hell!” you gasped, your hands flying up in a knee-jerk reaction to push him back, but caleb's hands shot forward, his fingers wrapping around your wrists with an unyielding grip. he didn't squeeze enough to hurt, but the absolute finality of his hold made it clear you weren't going anywhere. a slow incredibly wicked smirk spread across his lips then.
“see?” caleb murmured, leaning down just an inch closer, his hot breath fanning across your cheeks, smelling faintly of the mint gum he'd been chewing. “you couldn't even move before i did this. you can't even defend yourself, you silly girl. that means you still need me to protect you.”
up close, the heat radiating off his bare skin was intoxicating, a musky warmth that seemed to fill your entire throat. you could see the tiny pulse point fluttering at the base of his neck, right above where his silver dogtags hung, dangling loosely and brushing against your collarbone.
“you're a cheater,” you hissed. “this is a cheap shot!”
“it's a reality check,” his grip on your wrists tightened just a fraction, a wordless challenge. “tell you what. if you manage to dislodge me—if you can actually get out from under me right now—then i'll let myself believe that you aren't a kid anymore. i'll let you go on your little date tomorrow without a single word.”
“it's not a date!” you yelled, the denial tearing out of you with a sudden heat. alright, if a game of strength was what he wanted to play to prove his stupid, masculine dominance, you were going to give it to him. you knew caleb. you knew how he moved, or at least, you thought you did.
”and fine. if that's what you want, you're going to get it.”
with a swift movement, you bucked your hips upward, twisting your wrists sharply against the grain of his thumbs—a self-defense trick he had ironically taught you himself when you were fifteen. the sudden, biting leverage worked; caleb's grip slipped, his hands sliding off your skin with a faint gasp of surprise.
“ha!” you celebrated, a triumphant grin breaking across your face as you immediately reached up, your palms slamming against his broad bare shoulders to shove him off the couch.
but you had vastly underestimated your gege.
before your arms could fully extend to deliver the push, caleb utilized your own momentum against you. leaning his entire weight forward, his chest slammed into yours, knocking the wind right out of your lungs as he drove your back deep into the cushions. in the same breath, his hands caught your forearms mid-air, pinning them flat against the back of the sofa.
a loud, frustrated groan escaped your throat as your knuckles hit the fabric.
“you're cheating!” you wheezed, your legs twisting beneath his thighs, trying to find some purchase, some leverage to kick him off, but his lower body was like an anchor. “caleb, let go! in a game like this, you obviously have the advantage, you giant idiot!”
“i told you,” caleb chuckled, his chest vibrating directly against yours. the sensation of his hard pectoral muscles pressing into your softness was a sudden jolt that made your entire body go completely rigid. “those flight drills aren't just for show. you're slow, pips. you're losing your touch.”
“i am not slow!” you argued as you thrashed beneath him. you tried to wrench your left arm free, but caleb simply slid his fingers down to lace tightly through yours, pinning your hand flat against the sofa pillow.
every time you writhed to escape him, your bodies rubbed together in a way that made your skin feel like it was on fire. the friction of his denim jeans against your bare legs, the heavy slide of his chest against yours, the tight, hot grip of his fingers tangled in yours—it was completely overwhelming. caleb had stopped laughing. his breath was coming in shorter, heavier gasps now, his chest rising and falling in a ragged rhythm that mirrored your own frantic respiration.
“let... me... go,” you panted, but he stayed hovering over you, his broad shoulders completely blocking out the rest of the living room, effectively reducing your entire universe to just him. his gaze dragged slowly down from your eyes, lingering on your parted lips, before rising back up to look into your pupils with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with a childhood bond.
“make me.”
his hips shifted just a fraction, a subtle pressure against yours that made your heart completely halt in your chest. “tell me you don't need me anymore. say it like you mean it, and maybe i'll think about letting you up.”
if you couldn't get him off of you with pure physical force, then you might as well use your words. you needed a distraction, something so inherently mundane and unsexy.
you swallowed hard.
“caleb,” you muttered, your voice hesitant. “i... i need to pee.”
caleb blinked.
for a second, he just stared at you, his chest still rising and falling raggedly against yours. then, slowly, he began to relax the iron grip on your wrists, gently pushing his torso back to give you some breathing room.
is it working? a tiny sigh of relief bubbled in your chest. that worked, didn't it?
“hold it in.”
your eyes widened instantly. the sigh of relief died in your throat. what the fuck?!
you gasped inaudibly, your body going completely rigid all over again. instead of getting off the couch like a normal person, caleb simply shifted his weight above you. he let go of your hands entirely, but he just slid his knees slightly to the side, repositioning himself so he was hovering over you at a slight angle.
”do you remember when we were younger? whenever you felt like peeing, what did i make you do?”
your face burned a furious, hot crimson. you knew exactly what he was talking about. back when you were a pre-teen, you had a lot of difficulty with that—a stubborn, painful urinary retention issue that made you miserable during long car rides or summer afternoons. caleb, being the overprotective problem-solving idiot he was, had researched it in some random medical forum and forced a habit on you: he made you press firmly on your lower abdomen, right above the bladder, hold it tightly for ten seconds to stimulate the muscles, and then rush to the bathroom to let it out. it always worked.
but that was when you were kids.
doing that right now, with a shirtless muscular caleb hovering right between your thighs, felt entirely indecent. the innocent childhood routine had suddenly been warped into something thick with a strange intimacy...
“what the fuck?” you cussed under your breath, your voice shaking as you glared at him. “let me up, caleb. i'm serious.”
caleb didn't react to the swearing. his expression remained entirely unbothered, his jaw ticking slightly as he stared down at your flushed face. he was completely serious.
“hold it in,” he repeated. “then press on it with your hand for ten seconds.” he paused, his eyes narrowing as he scanned your face. “unless... you don't have difficulty with it anymore? you can just do it without the routine now?”
to be honest, you still had that exact same problem. the childhood difficulty hadn't magically disappeared, and the trick caleb had drilled into you was a literal physical habit you had been doing ever since. it was a secret piece of your daily life that still belonged to him, even after four years apart.
but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. you remained completely speechless, your lips parted.
caleb studied your silence for a beat longer, the corner of his mouth twitching with a shadow of that knowing smirk.
“nevermind.”
he suddenly slid his legs off the sofa and stood back up to his full height. the sudden rush of cool air where his body had just been made you feel instantly cold, exposed. caleb reached down, casually ruffling your messy hair with a quick hand, before turning on his heel.
“i should go back to fixing the sink back there before granny gets home,” he walked beyond the living room threshold, his bare feet padding softly against the wood. “go pee, pips,” he called out over his shoulder before his voice faded into the kitchen.
now you were left lying there on the cushions, entirely silent.
—
the next morning brought no relief from the heat; if anything, the humidity had thickened overnight, settling over the house like a damp woolen blanket by eight o’clock. you woke up with your skin already tacky, your hair plastered to the nape of your neck, and your mind instantly pivoting to the afternoon ahead. today was the day you were supposed to meet your friend from state u at the town plaza, and the mere thought of sitting in a crowded bus while looking unwashed was enough to make you drag your feet out of bed with a sense of urgency.
grabbing your clean clothes and a towel, you padded barefoot into the indoor bathroom, ready to submerge yourself in the shock of cold water. you twisted the plastic knob of the shower faucet.
nothing.
not even a rusty trickle.
you frowned, turning it all the way until the plastic creaked, but the pipes only answered with a mocking hiss.
ugh, caleb.
he had been elbow-deep in the plumbing just yesterday evening, claiming he was deep-cleaning and repairing the lines, and now the entire bathroom was bone-dry. he had probably shut off the main valve or misaligned the pressure tubes with his supposed logistical training.
with a frustrated huff, you realized your choices were entirely limited. you couldn't wait for granny to get back from the market to fix it, and you certainly weren't going to knock on caleb’s bedroom door to ask him for a favor after the suffocating display on the living room sofa.
there was only one alternative.
you shed your clothes and reached for a thin cotton sarong with a batik pattern that had grown incredibly soft from years of granny running it through the wash. you wrapped the fabric tight around your chest, tucking the edge securely over your breasts, and gathered your shampoo, soap, and a plastic basin.
if the modern plumbing was compromised, you’d have to do it the old-fashioned way.
the backyard was a secluded narrow strip of land shielded from the neighbors by a dense, unruly wall of trees and overgrown leaves. tucked into the furthest corner, sitting on a moss-slick concrete slab, was the old manual pump-well. the heavy iron looked ancient, its dark blue paint peeling away to reveal patches of orange rust, a relic from your childhood that hadn't been fully utilized since granny got the indoor electric pump installed years ago.
you set your basin down on the concrete and approached the pump, wrapping your fingers around the long iron handle.
you pushed down, and the lever didn't even budge.
“hnggggh!” you tried again, putting your entire weight into it, your slippers sliding slightly on the mossy concrete as you forced the iron arm upward to prime the cylinder. a screeching groan echoed from the metal throat of the pump, a sound so loud it felt like it was tearing through the quiet morning. your breath caught, your chest heaving against the tight tuck of the sarong as you pumped frantically, trying to coax the groundwater up through the dry valves. a bead of sweat rolled down from your temple, tracing a hot line down your neck as you struggled, your face flushing with a mix of physical exertion and mounting frustration.
“you're going to break your back doing it like that.”
your hands froze on the lever as you whipped your head around, your heart doing a sudden flip against your ribs that had absolutely nothing to do with the heavy lifting.
woah.
caleb looked like he had just walked straight out of a sports commercial—wearing a gray athletic tank top that clung to the damp contours of his chest and black gym shorts that showed off the lean, powerful definition of his thighs. his skin was flushed a warm pink, covered in a fine glistening sheen of sweat with a white towel slung carelessly around his neck.
he took a slow step into your space, his eyes tracking the frantic rise and fall of your chest beneath the thin cotton fabric of the sarong. his gaze flicked from your flushed cheeks, down to your strained shoulders, and finally settled on the rusted handle of the pump-well.
“just got back from a five-kilometer loop around the bypass road,” he tilted his head, a small smirk beginning to tug at the corner of his lips as he took in your disheveled state. “and i come back to find my pipsqueak fighting a piece of old iron. let me guess—the bathroom pipes aren't cooperating?”
“yeah, because of you.”
you pointed an accusing finger at his chest. “you were the one messing with the plumbing yesterday, caleb. i don't know what kind of aerospace engineering logic you applied to granny’s bathroom, but it's completely dry. so yes, the pipes aren't cooperating because you broke them.”
caleb didn't even have the decency to look guilty.
he just stood there, the corner of his mouth twitching upward into an intensely sarcastic smile that made you want to kick his shins. he listened to your scolding with an amused quiet indulgence, like he was watching a small kitten hiss at him through a window.
how annoying.
he didn't even offer an excuse. instead, he took a sudden step forward into your space. “calm down, let me help you.”
instinctively, your heels slid back against the mossy concrete, your arms crossing tightly over the knot of your sarong to keep it secure against your chest. but caleb wasn't looking at you—not yet. his eyes were on the rusted blue lever. he brushed past you, his sun-warmed shoulder cutting through your personal bubble, and wrapped his large hand around the iron handle right where yours had been just seconds ago.
and within two pumps, a thick gushing stream of crystal-clear groundwater burst from the spout, splashing loudly into the plastic basin below.
it was going alright now, thankfully.
you stood a step back, your tongue tucked behind your teeth as you tried to look anywhere but at him. but you couldn't help it. your eyes inevitably traced the flexion of his bicep every time he pulled the lever.
and then—splat!
caleb pushed the lever down too fast, and a full burst of water caught the edge of the basin, ricocheting straight up and hitting you square in the face.
“hey!” the freezing groundwater immediately drenched your forehead, eyelashes, and cheeks, running down the front of your neck and soaking the top line of your cotton sarong.
caleb froze instantly. the sarcastic smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden wide-eyed look of genuine panic. “oh—oops, i'm sorry,” he frantically dropped the iron handle and reached out with both hands, his white gym towel already bunching in his fingers. “i didn't mean to torque it that hard. are you okay? did it get in your nose?”
as a payback, you didn't even give him the chance to wipe your face. before he could step closer with the towel, you lunged downward, scooping a palmful of the freezing water straight out of the filled basin and throwing it upward with a vindictive flick of your wrist.
splat!
the water slapped caleb right across the jaw and eyes, head snapping back in surprise before he shook it aggressively from side to side—exactly like a wet golden retriever trying to shake off a bath—sending a spray of droplets flying from the wet strands of his hair.
he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, a boyish grin breaking through his wet features.
“serves you right.”
“alright, fair enough,” he chuckled, his voice dropping back into that rumbling cadence as he looked down at you.
then, his eyes flicked past your shoulder, landing on the small plastic tray sitting on the concrete slab—the bottle of shampoo, the bar of soap, and the clean towel you had neatly laid out.
“so,” caleb leaned one hand against the cool iron body of the pump, his gaze tracking a slow line from the soap back up to your wet face. “are you getting all washed up and pretty for that day out with your friend?”
you lifted your chin, “yup, i am.”
caleb’s grin hardened, freezing into a rigid imitation of a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
the silence of the backyard rushed back in, thick and suffocating, punctuated only by the rhythmic drip... drip... drip of the water from the spout into the overflowing basin.
“right,” his eyes tracked a slow path down to the wet fabric of your sarong. the thin cotton had absorbed the splash, turning translucent where it clung tightly to the curve of your chest and the dip of your waist. “the friend from state u. the one you walk home with?”
“javi,” you reached up, squeezing the excess water out of your hair strands, letting the drops splash onto the concrete between your feet. “we're going to the plaza. he wants to check out this old second-hand bookstore, and then we're getting dinner.”
“dinner?” caleb repeated, the word sounding flat, heavy, like a stone dropped into mud. “sounds like a lot of effort for a casual classmate.”
“he's not just a classmate, caleb. he's my best friend at university,” you stepped forward, intending to pick up your shampoo bottle, but caleb didn't move an inch. his broad shoulder remained firmly in your line of sight. “now, if you're done breaking things and splashing me, can you continue pumping the water so i can actually wash my hair? i'm going to be late.”
caleb looked at you for a long unreadable beat. then, a familiar smirk began to pull at the corner of his lips—but it was different this time. it was the calculating version of his smile, the one he wore right before he flipped a chessboard.
“sure, anything for my pipsqueak.”
he reached down, wrapping his fingers around the iron handle again, and began to pump. but he didn't do it quickly. he did it with a slow, agonizingly steady rhythm.
“you know, it's just a bit funny. four years away, and the first thing you do when i get back is run off to the city with some guy i’ve never met. makes a guy feel a little replaced.”
“you weren't replaced,” you muttered, leaning over the basin to scoop up some water to wet your hair, the movement causing your sarong to stretch tight across your back. “you left. there's a difference. you went to the academy, you got your own life, your own barracks... your own nursing student.”
the words slipped out before you could stop them, bitter and sharp.
“what did you say?”
“i said you have your own life,” you repeated stubbornly, forcing yourself to straighten up and look him in the eye. “so don't act like i'm the one breaking rules here. go save your overprotective routine for the girl from the nursing college. she's... the one you're planning to court, right?”
the iron handle came to a sudden dead stop.
the water ceased its gushing, reducing to a trickling stream that dripped lazily into the basin.
instead of shooting back with a witty remark, caleb simply averted his gaze. his long eyelashes fluttered as he blinked rapidly, his eyes tracking a random crack on the wet concrete slab. for the first time since he stepped out of that terminal, he looked... guilty.
almost... shameful?
“what, lost your tongue?” you straightened up from the basin, squeezing the wet fabric of your sarong tighter over your chest.
“you stand here lecturing me about hanging out with a friend, acting like you’re still my overprotective—ugh, i don't even know, when you’re literally planning to bring a new girl home next semester.” you purse your lips together, but it's too late to stop now. “you're such a hypocrite, caleb. go save your little 'hold it in' routines and your grand muscle displays for your precious nursing student. see if she actually tolerates your stupid, suffocating mind games, because frankly, i am so sick of hearing about how much you're moving on while i'm just supposed to sit here and—”
you cut yourself off, the words freezing in your throat. your heart did a violent terrifying drop into your stomach.
fuck.
you had just said entirely too much. the stinging venom in your voice hadn't sounded like a childhood best friend being annoyed; it had sounded like a deeply bitter jealous girl who was bleeding all over the concrete.
caleb's head snapped back up. the guilt in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sudden wide-eyed look of absolute shock. he swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing sharply as he stared at your face.
“there... is no nursing student,”
you paused. “huh?”
“i-i made her up,” caleb admitted.
”i invented her the exact second i got into the car yesterday. because you were looking at me like i was just a distant cousin.” he takes a deep breath, eyes wandering away while he furrowed his eyebrows. “you were so casual, so polite, talking about your university and your blockmates like my four years away didn't even matter to you. i got... i got terrified. i thought you completely outgrew me.”
and then, his eyes went back to yours. ”i've never even had the thought to get a girlfriend. i haven't looked at another girl that way since the day i left this hometown.”
you stood frozen in utter surprise, your mind completely blanking out. what the hell? your hands numbed against the cotton of your sarong, your mouth opening slightly but no sound coming out. how were you even supposed to react to that? the chess piece you thought he was playing to move on from you was nothing but a sick desperate lie to get a reaction out of you...
caleb let out a ragged sigh, a bitter self-deprecating chuckle rumbled deep in his bare chest. he looked down at his own wet gym shoes, shaking his head. “i'm such an idiot. i spent four actual years up at that academy staring at flight panels, thinking about nothing else other than coming back home to this house, to you... and just holding you in my arms all over again. but gideon's right. college really did a number on us. you have your own world now.”
he looked you straight in the eye then, his irises dark, intense, and swimming with a vulnerability that completely stripped him bare. “and i just... i missed—”
he stopped himself mid-sentence.
his jaw tensed, eyelids blinking rapidly as a sudden crimson blush bloomed furiously across his cheeks and spread down to his neck. he bit his lower lip, tearing his gaze away from your face and looking out toward the dense wall of trees.
your heart was now hammering so violently against your ribs you were certain he could see it lifting the thin fabric of your sarong.
“i was scared too,” you whispered, breaking the quiet before you could lose your nerve.
caleb’s head snapped back toward you, his eyes wide.
and you clenched your own fists against your thighs, keeping your eyes trained firmly on the concrete between your feet, too shy to meet his gaze. “the only reason i was acting like that in the car... was because i thought you came back as a stranger. you got so big, and you looked so different, and then you started talking about that girl... and i just thought you didn't need me anymore.” you swallowed the lump in your throat.
”all this time, caleb... i missed you. so much.”
there it was, laid out in the open.
caleb’s eyes widened in absolute awe, his breath catching so loudly in his throat it sounded like a gasp. he could do nothing else but to stare down at you, his chest heaving silently beneath his gray tank top.
but then—shreek!
the metal screech of the front gates swinging open suddenly cut through the heavy quiet, the sharp sound making the both of you flinch and snap your heads toward the driveway at the exact same time.
that must be granny.
just like that, your confession was left hanging in the damp morning air, completely cut off as you both went inside the house with granny's slow footsteps shuffling into view. she was carrying two heavy plastic bags filled with mangoes and avocadoes from the early market, her small frame leaning slightly to the side from the weight.
“oh, you're both awake,” granny mumbled, her voice carrying its usual sleepy cadence.
without a word, caleb fell back into his dutiful grandson role, though his face was still flushed a light pink.
he stepped away from you, his large frame moving quickly to take the heavy bags from her hands. you swallowed the lump in your throat and followed him into the kitchen, desperately trying to smooth down the edges of your cotton sarong so you didn't look as completely disheveled as you felt.
the two of you stood by the kitchen counter, casually helping her arrange the fruits into the wicker basket. every time your fingers accidentally brushed against his while reaching for a mango, an awkward jolt went straight up your arm.
granny paused, placing a hand on her hip as she looked at you funnily. “why do you have a sarong on this early? and your hair is wet.”
“the bathroom pipes aren't working, granny,” you explained quickly, your voice a little too high. “i was trying to use the pump-well outside.”
“ah, that old thing,” granny sighed, shaking her head and failing to notice the suffocating tension between you and caleb. “caleb, i told you to fix that last night. look what you did to your sister.”
caleb didn't say anything, just let out a small hum, his throat bobbing as he placed the last avocado in the basket.
“well, i'm quite tired from the walk,” granny rubs her lower back as she turned toward the stairs. “i'm going to take a short nap. caleb, come upstairs for a bit and help me find my maintenance meds in the cabinet. my eyes are too blurry today.”
“yes, gran. i'll be right up,” caleb replied without a single second of hesitation.
he finally turned his head to look at you as granny started her slow climb up the wooden steps. his eyes were still heavy with everything you both had just admitted out by the well, but he couldn't stay. he gave you one unreadable look before turning on his heel, his broad back disappearing up the staircase behind her.
and then, you were just standing there alone in the quiet kitchen.
in a wet sarong. without a proper bath.
fuck's sake.
you let out a long breath, your shoulders slumping as the reality of the situation hit you. your skin felt sticky from the groundwater, your hair was damp and tangled, and you were supposed to meet javi at the plaza later. with the bathroom completely dry and caleb occupied upstairs, a real shower was out of the question now.
muttering a curse under your breath, you walked back to your room, peeling the damp translucent cotton off your skin. you were forced to just wipe yourself down with a dry towel and change back into your casual home clothes.
knock. knock.
“you in there?“
caleb’s voice bled through the thin wood of the door, the sudden wrap of knuckles against your bedroom making you jump half a foot in the air. you quickly smoothed down the front of your fresh t-shirt, took a shaky breath to steady the frantic drumming in your chest, and pulled the door open.
caleb had finally put on a new shirt—a slightly faded black tee that somehow made his broad shoulders look even more intimidating in the cramped hallway—but he was standing there completely awkwardly. his hands were shoved deep into his gym shorts pockets, his elbows jutting out slightly, and he was deliberately looking at a framed vintage cross-stitch on the wall instead of looking at you. a faint, lingering trace of that dark crimson blush was still dusting the tips of his ears.
“uh, yeah?“
caleb cleared his throat, his adam's apple bobbing before he finally shifted his gaze down to meet your eyes.
“granny... uh, gran told me to get the bathroom pipes sorted before she wakes up from her nap,” caleb muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “she said since i was the one who messed them up, i have to fix them right now. but i... i need an extra pair of hands to hold the wrench from the other side of the basin valve.”
he paused, his eyes searching yours with a quiet hesitant look.
“come help me, please?”
—
the bathroom felt smaller than it ever had before.
you stood right over him, bare feet pressed against the cool porcelain of the floorboards, holding a heavy roll of teflon tape and a pair of rusted pliers in your hands. caleb was sitting flat on the floor, his long legs bent awkwardly in the tight space between the toilet bowl and the lower basin cabinetry.
neither of you spoke.
every rustle of his clothing, every heavy breath he exhaled, and every metallic click of his wrench against the pipe joint sounded like a damn gunshot in the cramped room.
your thumb kept sliding over the screen of your phone, lighting up the lock screen to check the digital clock. it was getting closer to the afternoon.
caleb noticed. even though his head was tucked beneath the porcelain basin, his shoulders went completely rigid the third time your phone screen illuminated the dim corner of the room.
then, the scraping sound of the wrench died out. caleb remained perfectly still for a long beat, his forehead resting lightly against the cold underside of the sink as if he were gathering a desperate amount of courage. slowly, he pulled himself back, his broad shoulders clearing the cabinet door as he looked up at you.
“are you...” caleb's voice cracked slightly before he cleared his throat, forcing the gravelly pitch down. “are you still going to the city with your friend?” he reached for the valve handle, his long fingers wrapping around the plastic knob with a hesitation that was entirely uncharacteristic of him.
the question was asked way too softly, way too hesitantly. he sounded small.
you froze, the roll of teflon tape slipping a fraction of an inch between your fingers. the truth was, the second those words had left your mouth by the backyard well—the second you had admitted that you spent four years missing him in the quiet of your bedroom—you had already resolved to cancel the day out. you didn't want to go to the plaza. you didn't want to browse second-hand books or eat dinner across from javi while your skin was still burning from caleb's touch.
but as you looked down at caleb’s upturned face, at the raw vulnerable waiting in his eyes...
“yes, i'm still going.”
why did you say it? you didn't even know. maybe it was a reflex, a desperate attempt to rebuild the walls he had so easily torn down out by the well. maybe you were terrified of what would happen if you stayed here alone with him while granny slept outside.
caleb didn't flare up. he didn't snap or offer a sarcastic remark. he just let out a low quiet hum, nodding his head twice as his eyes dropped back down to the plastic valve.
his reaction wasn't what you expected, and it made the hollow ache in your chest widen into something unbearable. what was supposed to happen now? were you both really going to sit here in the bathroom and pretend like you hadn't just shattered the childhood boundary? were you going to act like you hadn't confessed to missing him until it hurt?
“pips,” caleb said, his tone entirely too polite while he reached his hand upward without looking. “hand me the pliers. and... crawl down here for a second. i need you to hold the main pipe line steady while i tighten this last bolt, or the pressure's going to crack the plastic again.”
“okay,” you murmured instantly, doing exactly as you were told. you dropped the teflon tape onto the lid of the toilet and crouched down beside him.
the space was incredibly cramped.
caleb's position lied flat on his back on the bathroom floor. his head and shoulders are pushed completely inside the dark open cabinet space beneath the sink basin so he can reach the pipes. and because his legs are so long, the lower half of his body is sticking out.
“alright, look,” caleb muttered, his voice echoing hollowly against the underside of the sink. he pointed a long finger at the heavy gray intake pipe. “when i start turning the wrench on this coupling bolt, the whole pipe is gonna want to twist with it. if it twists too much, it’ll snap the plastic threads inside the wall. i need you to take the pliers, clamp them onto the upper collar, and hold it perfectly still. think you can do that?”
and because you have to help him by holding a pipe that is also inside that dark cabinet, you'd have to lean your entire upper body over his chest while you crouched beside his hips and thighs.
“i'm not completely useless, caleb.” you whispered back.
“never said you were,” he murmured, his eyes flickering up to meet yours beneath the sink. for a second, his gaze lingered on your lips, before he blinked and forced his attention back to the metal wrench in his hand. “alright. on three. one... two... three.”
you clamped the pliers onto the collar and squeezed with all your might. you could hear caleb grunting below you, biceps bunching as he threw his strength into turning the stubborn rusted bolt. but the second the wrench caught, your hand slipped on the grease-slicked metal. the pliers clattered loudly against the tiles, and the gray pipe twisted with a nasty screech.
“wait, wait! stop!” you gasped, your fingers scrambling to grab the tool again.
“you're letting it turn!” caleb yelled, though it was more of a breathless panicked laugh than an actual scold. he had to throw his arm over your shoulder, his large hand coming down over yours to help you steady the pliers. “there, hold it tight like that and squeeze!”
“i am squeezing! your hands are too big, you're blocking my grip!”
“okay, okay, teamwork, remember?” caleb chuckled, his breath fanning across your neck. “let me reposition. you hold the handle with both hands, and i’ll just use raw force on the wrench. ready? go."
this time, you locked your fingers around the pliers, planting your heels firmly against the tiled floor and leaning your entire body weight into the tool to keep the line steady. caleb grunted again, a low sound deep in his throat, and with one shove of his arm, the rusted coupling bolt finally gave way, sliding smoothly into place with a satisfying click!
“is that it?” you panted, your knuckles white from gripping the pliers.
“uh, turn the valve. let's see.”
still hovering over him, you reached out and twisted the small plastic knob all the way to the left. for a second, there was a breathless silence—and then, the hollow hiss in the walls was replaced by the rushing water. you both waited, eyes wide, staring at the joint.
not a single drop leaked out. it was perfectly, completely dry.
a breathless laugh then tore out of your chest before you could stop it. “we actually did it!”
“good job, pips.” caleb smiled, his hands coming up to clap against his thighs as he slid himself out from under the sink. ”this is exactly like that summer when we tried to build that stupid treehouse behind the old chapel. remember? you dropped the entire box of nails into the mud and blamed it on a stray dog.“ a nostalgic smile broke across his face as he sat back on his heels.
you wiped the stray pools of water from the floor with an old rag, while caleb casually tossed the teflon tape and pliers back into his plastic toolbox. “because it was a stray dog! it barked at me and i got scared, and need i remind you who tried to use a literal rock because he forgot to bring a hammer?”
“hey, the rock worked for at least three planks,” caleb defended himself, catching the rag you threw at him with a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that specific, beautiful way they always did when he was genuinely happy. “besides, i was twelve. cut me some slack. at least i didn't cry when the roof fell through.”
“i did not cry because the roof fell, caleb, i cried because a caterpillar fell on my shoulder!”
“same thing, baby. you were a total baby.”
“says the guy who still can't sleep without a fan on because he thinks the darkness makes the room smaller,” you shot back, leaning your shoulder against the bathroom wall.
caleb paused, his grin softening into something incredibly tender, leaving behind the golden-boy warmth you had starved for over the last four years.
“i missed this.” he casually reached out, his long fingers gently tugging at a loose strand of your hair that had dried in a messy curl against your cheek. “i missed you making fun of me. the guys at the academy are too polite. it’s boring.“
“yeah?” your heart did that erratic skip against your ribs again as his thumb lightly brushed against the edge of your jawline. “well... someone has to keep your ego in check.”
“exactly, can't have me flying planes with an oversized head, right?”
you finally stood up, your knees cracking slightly as you broke the spell of the small space.
“i'm gonna... i should probably check the kitchen. granny bought some fish earlier, so i'll start cooking lunch before she wakes up.” you murmured, keeping your voice light as you took a step toward the exit, your hand already reaching for the brass doorknob.
you didn't even get to wrap your fingers around the metal when—
thud.
a large palm slammed flat against the wood of the door right in front of your face, the sudden vibration rattling through the frame. you jumped in surprise, your breath catching sharply in your throat as you instinctively whirled around.
“don't.”
caleb was looming directly over you, but it was the look on his face that made your heart stop. the boyish smile from seconds ago was entirely gone. instead, his features were twisted into a deeply troubled, desperate grimace.
“don't go.”
you frowned. “what do you mean? i'm just going to the kitchen—”
“don't go to the city today,” he interrupted, his tone shifting into something bolder as he stepped even closer, effectively trapping your smaller frame beneath his. “i only have two months here. that's it. sixty days before they drag me back to the barracks and put me back in a cockpit. so...”
caleb hesitates, but he takes a deep breath.
“can you just stay here? can you... spend every single day with me before i have to leave again?"
you stared up at him, your mouth parting slightly. fuck, you were blushing now. it must be so visible.
caleb’s hand—the one planted firmly beside your head—slowly curled into a tight fist against the wood of the door. “it feels like i missed you a hell of a lot more than you missed me.” his voice dropped an octave, turning into a vulnerable murmur. “you have no idea how many nights i spent staring at the ceiling of that concrete bunk, just waiting to see your face this close again.”
speechless, you could only look up at him, your mind completely short-circuiting under his honesty.
desperate to find some sort of anchor, desperate to make sense of the dizzying reality that caleb—your childhood friend that you should see as a brother—was practically begging for your attention, you swallowed hard and blurted out the first defensive defense your brain could manufacture.
“why didn't you get a girlfriend there?” you try, blinking rapidly as you struggled to maintain his gaze. “i mean it, caleb. you're... you're handsome, and you're well-built. it’s completely impossible that you didn't at least have girls trying to talk to you or court you up there.“
“why didn't i get one?” a slow smile broke through his troubled expression, his eyes glittering with a sudden amusement. he tilted his head down, his gaze dropping briefly to your small hands, before snapping back up to lock directly into your eyes.
“because... i prayed every single day. i closed my eyes at night and prayed that you wouldn't have a boyfriend by the time i got back.” you press your head further against the wood of the door, just when caleb nears his face close enough. “the thought of another man touching what belongs to this house... what belongs to me... would really, deeply upset me."
he leaned down a fraction of an inch further, but then he suddenly breaks the proximity by pulling back.
“and... did you just say i'm handsome?” caleb smiled wider, his thumb trailing down the doorframe to lightly graze the very edge of your wet shoulder. “so... is that an admission? am i attractive to you?”
am i attractive to you?
your lips parted, but no sound came out.
the sheer audacity of him—shifting from a desperate aching boy to this dangerously confident creature in the span of a single breath—was enough to make your throat go dry. you wanted to push him away, wanted to snap at him for using that rumbling tone on you, but you couldn't.
“you're an idiot, caleb.”
“that's not an answer, pips.”
he moved his hand from the doorframe, his fingers sliding slowly down the side of your neck. his palm was warm, a stark contrast to the chilled skin of your collarbone where the groundwater had soaked you earlier. his thumb found the frantic pulse point fluttering at the base of your throat, pressing just firmly enough to let you know he could feel exactly how much power he held over you in this room.
just outside, through the wooden slats of these walls, granny was sleeping. the knowledge that she was just at the other side of the room—that a single loud noise, a dropped tool, or a sharp gasp would shatter the quiet of the house...
“caleb, stop,“ you breathed, the protest losing all its teeth as your fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him slightly closer instead of pushing him back. “granny will...”
“i'm being quiet,” he whispered back, tilting his head until his lips were brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “but you're driving me crazy.”
a soft whimper caught in your throat, and caleb immediately swallowed it.
“hmgh—!”
you felt his hand sliding from your neck up to your jaw, tilting your face up as his lips came down to meet yours.
it wasn't the sweet, tentative kiss of childhood friends.
it was rather heavy, desperate, and laced with an aching hunger that had been rotting inside his chest for several months.
his lips pressed firm and unyielding against yours, demanding a response you had been starving to give. you let out a muffled gasp against his mouth, and caleb took total advantage of it—his tongue slid past your teeth with a stroke that made your knees buckle.
you would have almost slid straight down the door if caleb’s other arm hadn't instantly locked around your waist.
he hoisted you up, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips through your thin shorts, dragging your lower body flush against his. the solid weight of him was overwhelming; you could feel the hard contours of his thighs and the frantic rising and falling of his chest.
you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, your fingers tangling into the short, damp strands of his hair, pulling him down further. you kissed him back with the same bitterness you’d been hoarding since he left—punishing him for the distance, for the nursing student lie, for the suffocating way he made you feel like you belonged to him even when he was hundreds of miles away.
your hands, tangled in the soft fabric of his black t-shirt, moved themselves to his shoulders, pushing against the stubborn muscle until he was forced to take a blind step backward. his heel caught against the base of the toilet, and with a muffled grunt, caleb sank down.
the plastic lid was securely closed, providing a seat that placed him directly beneath you, his knees spread wide to accommodate the sudden change in height.
you froze for a second, your breath hitching as you stood between his thighs. the sudden drop in his posture left you looking down at him, your hands still resting on his broad shoulders while he looked up at you through his eyelashes. you hesitated, your lower lip stinging from the friction of his mouth, and despite of it all, your mind kept on screaming that you were crossing a line you could never uncross.
but caleb didn't give you the chance to overthink it.
his hands reached up, palms slick with a light sheen of sweat as they wrapped firmly around the sides of your waist. with one heavy pull, he guided your hips forward. and then, your knees slid effortlessly over his thick, denim-clad thighs until you were completely straddling his lap.
“ah—”
shit, this is such an intimate position!
the impact of your lower body hitting his thighs made a gasp slip from your throat, but caleb caught it instantly again. he surged upward, his mouth slamming back over yours to smother the sound before it could echo past the wooden door.
the kiss turned frantic, fueled by the weight of your body resting completely on his. it wasn't gentle anymore. caleb’s tongue pushed deep, demanding and possessive, while his teeth lightly caught the flesh of your bottom lip, biting down just enough to make you whine into his mouth. you bit him back in retaliation, an instinctive nip that made a guttural vibration rumble deep in his chest. his hands moved from your waist, one sliding up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling roughly into your damp hair to hold your face exactly where he wanted it, while the other pressed flat against your lower back.
and then, without warning, your mind went entirely, terrifyingly blank.
a sudden rolling pressure moved beneath the thin fabric of your shorts. caleb arched his back just to grind his hips upward in a slow tilt that pressed the hard length of his arousal directly against your center.
then, a sharp jolt of pure heat shot straight up your spine, making your eyes flutter shut as your fingers clawed into the fabric of his shirt.
“caleb—” you gasped against his lips, trying to pull back just an inch to breathe.
“shh,” he breathed, his mouth instantly chasing yours, his lips brushing against your cheek, your jawline, before burying his face in the crook of your neck. his breathing was completely ragged, a suffocating thing against your collarbone. he didn't stop. his hand on your lower back moved down, a heavy palm pressing firmly against the base of your spine, and he ground his hips upward again, harder this time, forcing you to feel every single inch of how aroused he's just getting.
“please,” caleb whispered into your skin, his voice cracking. ”don't move away. please... just let me feel you like this. i’m so tired of imagining it.”
“granny will...” you whimpered, your head tilting back as his teeth lightly grazed the sensitive skin right beneath your ear. your hands were shaking against his shoulders, your lower body instinctively tilting into his next roll, a shameless surrender that made him let out a broken sigh. “caleb, if she... if she hears us...”
“she won't,” he muttered against your skin, his thumb digging firmly into your hip bone, locking you flush against him so there wasn't a single millimeter of space left between your bodies. he took a deep breath, his chest expanding hard against yours as he forced his movements to become agonizingly slow. “i’ll be quiet. just stay. please... you’re right here, you’re finally right here...”
“i'm here,” you whispered breathlessly into his ear. “i'm right here.”
your skin was beginning to sting where it pressed against his. the agonizingly slow tilts of his hips couldn't stay slow for long.
without either of you consciously deciding it, the grinding turned into a drag of weight against weight—a quiet breathless dryhumping that sent waves of heat pooling directly between your thighs.
the fabric of your loose shorts and his heavy denim rubbed together with a soft, repetitive whisper—it was the only continuous sound in the small space besides the ragged, broken cadence of your breaths. caleb’s hands were no longer just holding you; they were practically anchoring you to him. his long fingers buried into the flesh of your bum, pulling your pelvis down hard against his with every upward surge of his thighs.
“caleb—”
the name was clipped neatly from your tongue as he hitched his hips higher, a muffled whimper escaping your throat. you slapped a hand over your own mouth, your eyes widening in sheer panic as you stared at the bathroom door. the reminder of granny sleeping just down the hall felt like a wire wrapped tight around your throat.
caleb caught your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from your lips only to replace it with his own shoulder. “bite me,” he choked out a whisper. “bite the shirt. don't... don't make a sound.”
you didn't hesitate. you buried your face into the soft black cotton of his shoulder, your teeth sinking into the fabric as caleb let out a shuddering gasp.
he was a complete mess.
nothing more than a boy who looked thoroughly undone by your weight in his lap. a dark crimson blush had crawled all the way up his neck, blooming across his sharp cheekbones and turning the tips of his ears a burning pink. his long eyelashes were damp, fluttering rapidly as he kept his eyes squeezed shut.
every time your weight humped against his hard bulge, a whine would catch in his throat, a sound he desperately swallowed by burying his face into your hair.
you began to move with him, your hips rolling in a frantic rhythm that matched his pace, chasing the tight, coil of pleasure that was tightening in your stomach. this makes his fingers dig brutally into your hip bones.
“wait—hey, wait,” he wheezed, his hips stuttering against yours as he tried to find his bearings. he was trembling beneath you, the muscles in his thighs and arms locked so tight they were vibrating. he opened his eyes, irises completely blown out, to look up at you. “you're... if you move like that... i won't be able to stay quiet.”
“then don't move,” you breathed against his neck, unable to stop humping him like a starving bunny.
“i can't,” he whispered back, a tear of sheer overstimulation tracing down his flushed temple. a soft, helpless whimper broke from his chest as his hips instinctively arched upward again, completely disregarding his own warning. he ground his lower body against yours in three quick, desperate, and torturously deep strokes, his head falling back against the porcelain tank as he fought a losing battle to keep his ragged groans silent inside.
“how about...” you panted, “how about we do this standing up? would that... would that make less noise?“
caleb's movements immediately stopped, his breath hitching sharply in his throat at the suggestion. he didn't answer with words; his large hands just tightened around your waist, and with a low grunt of exertion, he stood up, lifting you effortlessly off his lap before setting your feet firmly back onto the cool tile floor.
before your knees could buckle from the sudden rush of cold air, caleb's heavy palms guided you forward. you found yourself bending over the bathroom sink, your upper body lowering until your forearms were pressed flat against the cool, smooth porcelain basin...
right in front of the wide mirror.
seconds later, the towering weight of caleb’s chest loomed against your back. he adjusted his stance, his long legs spreading slightly to frame yours, and then he crowded back into you. the thick ridge of his arousal aligned perfectly with your ass from behind, pressing hard against your thin cotton shorts.
he started moving again, but this angle... this angle was entirely different.
it was so much more exposing, so much more intense, because when you look up, your blurred vision collided directly with your reflection in the mirror.
you could see everything. you could see your own flushed breathless face, your lips swollen and wet from his kisses. and right behind you, caleb was a mess. his dark hair was thoroughly mussed, cheeks and neck burning with a furious blush.
with every thrust from him, the force of his hips sent a jolt of heat straight to your throbbing thing, making your hands slick against the porcelain as you gripped the edges of the sink for dear life.
“hngh...! caleb—”
“shh—you have to keep quiet,” caleb scrambled to scold you, but he sounded completely panicked, his breathing so loud and ragged it was a miracle granny couldn't hear it from outside. “gran's room is... it's literally right beside this. if you make a sound, i'm gonna—we're gonna get caught.”
even while trying to play the protective guide, his eyes shifted downward in the reflection. staring at your bent-down position, watching the way your body curved beneath his and how perfectly you took every push of his thighs, was enough to send caleb entirely over the edge. he went visibly harder against you, his long fingers trembling violently where they were clamped over your hip bones.
“god, shit—” caleb choked out, his forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder blade, his chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. his rhythm turned a little clumsy, a little too eager, his hips grinding up against you with an uncoordinated, desperate hunger that made your mind spin. “i... i don't even know what i'm doing. i almost... i can't believe this is real. you're actually here. you're really letting me do this.”
“caleb, you're moving too fast,” you whimpered, your fingers slipping on the wet porcelain as he gave another firm, deep roll of his pelvis that made your thighs shake.
“i'm sorry, i'm sorry,” pressing a line of apologetic kisses along your shoulder blade, he consciously tried to slow himself down, his large hands squeezing your hips to steady the rhythm, though the intense blush on his face only deepened until his ears were practically purple. “is this better? like this?”
“yeah... yeah..”
suddenly, caleb’s hands moved from your hips, his long fingers sliding beneath the hem of your shorts.
“hey,” he choked out. “i can't... i'm not staying behind these clothes anymore. i need to feel you.”
with a frantic uncoordinated rush of movement that was entirely fueled by a lack of control, he pulled your shorts and underwear down to your knees, managing to free himself from his gym shorts at the exact same time.
the sudden sensation of his bare, burning skin pressing against your uncovered backside made you gasp. “w-wait, caleb, what are y—”
he didn't wait. caleb guided the tip of his manhood to your entrance and pushed forward. with a slow, agonizingly thick surge, he slid completely inside of you.
the size of him filled you so entirely it took your breath away. your fingers clawed at the slick porcelain of the sink, your head dropping as a high broken whimper left your lips. caleb let out a long trembling groan against your shoulder, his chest heaving violently as he buried himself to the hilt.
“fuck, fuck!”
”be quiet, caleb...”
“s-sorry, fuck.” a lazy smirk tugged at his lips in the reflection, his hands tightening on your waist. “see? i told you nobody else could fit you like this. you're shaking.”
he buries his head into your hole much, much deeper. “did you miss me this much?”
the teasing sting of his words, even now, made a surge of stubborn retaliation flare up in your chest. you didn't want him to see how completely undone you were. pulling your hands off the sink, you tried to straighten your spine and pull yourself forward, attempting to slide off his dick to break his rhythm.
it was the wrong move.
the sudden threat of losing you made caleb snap completely. his large hands locked around your hips like iron cuffs, yanked you violently backward, and thrusted into you with a force that was so deep and heavy it made your vision go entirely white.
“don't run from me,” caleb gave another hard, bruising thrust that almost hit your womb, pinning you ruthlessly against the porcelain. his upper body slammed against your back, his face completely flushed a dark, furious crimson as he forced your head up. “look at yourself in the mirror. look at what you're doing to me. look at how much of me is inside you right now.”
you couldn't even form words to respond. you were completely paralyzed by how big, how thick, and how utterly unrelenting he felt stretching you open from the inside. all you could do was grip the edges of the sink for dear life, your knuckles turning white as your body struggled to take his bare thighs slapping against yours.
yet, for all his dominant holding, caleb was a complete, crying mess.
every single time he shoved his hips forward, a pathetic little moan escaped his throat—sounds he tried so desperately to bite back, burying his face in your wet hair or chewing on his own bottom lip until it bled, utterly terrified of waking granny up outside.
“fuck, please,” caleb whimpered against your neck, penetrating you over and over again with each stroke making you cry out into your hand. he was trembling so hard the vibration traveled straight into your body. “can we... can we do this every day? just until i leave again? please. tell me you'll let me do this to you every single day?”
you couldn't even answer him. you were too occupied, and quite literally occupied, by the way he's pounding against your ass.
he was driving into you, his pelvis slamming against your backside with a wet and heavy sound. it was too much. the fullness of him stretching you open was overwhelming, and as he bottomed out completely inside you for the third time in a row, the careful restraint in your throat shattered.
“aaangh~!”
before the sound could even fade, caleb's palm snapped upward to clamp firmly over your mouth. his long fingers wrapped tightly around your jaw, crushing your lips against your teeth and effectively smothering your next desperate gasp into a muffled whimper against his skin.
“i told you to stay quiet,” but even as he scolded you, his lower body didn't slow down for a single second. if anything, your loud reaction only drove him deeper into the edge, his hips pumping into you even faster. “you're gonna wake her up. do you want gran to walk in here and see you like this? see what a bad girl you're being f'me?”
you were completely pathetic beneath him now. you couldn't breathe properly, you couldn't scream, and you couldn't pull away. all you could do was let out small broken whines against his palms, your tears wetting his fingers as your hips shook uncontrollably under the force of his penetration. you were nothing but a trembling, weeping toy for him to use.
“shit... oh god, shit, look at you,”
followed by a groan, his entire body went rigid as he reached his breaking point. needing to get even deeper, to consume every remaining inch of you before he spilled, he reached down with his other hand and hooked it beneath your thigh. with one effortless pull, he lifted your leg up to force you to balance precariously on one foot while your knee was pinned up against his waist. “fuck, i'm so close,”
the new, devastatingly wide angle opened you up completely. it only allowed him to bury his entire length into you with a series of shoving that made your head snap back.
“don't make a sound,” caleb choked out, his voice cracking into a crying whisper while he began to hammer into you with his hand pressing harder against your mouth. “keep it in. take all of me right now. just take it.”
the final push of his hips sent your mind spiraling into absolute oblivion, your body tightening around his thickness in a series of violent, helpless spasms that milked him completely. caleb let out a sharp gasp against the crown of your head, his entire muscular frame going stiff as iron against your back. he knew he was at the absolute point of no return. even through the blinding fog of his climax, that ingrained discipline and the terrifying reality of the consequences cut through his thoughts.
with a sudden, desperate grunt of exertion, caleb grabbed your hip bone with bruising force and violently pulled himself out of you.
the abrupt sensation of emptiness made a choked sob rise in your throat, but before you could even register the loss, caleb’s release hit you. he came in heavy thick spurts across your backside and the small of your lower back.
“oh, god—oh fuck, i'm coming, i'm coming,” caleb cried out, his voice completely fracturing into a loud mess. he couldn't even keep himself quiet anymore. “fuck, i love you, i love you so much. look at what you did to your caleb.”
a crying whimper escaped his lips as the final waves of his orgasm racked his large body. his hand finally slid off your face, fingers trembling as he let go of your jaw, leaving your lips swollen and burning. instead, he dropped both of his heavy palms onto the curves of your hips. “look at this fucking mess...”
meanwhile, your upper body remained slumped over the cool porcelain of the sink. your fingers were weakly splayed against the slick basin, completely devoid of any remaining strength. your knees were wobbling so much beneath your weight that the only thing keeping you from collapsing onto the tiled floor was the unyielding grip of caleb's hands on your waist.
slowly, caleb’s heavy breathing began to level out, turning into shallow, ragged pants against the nape of your neck. he opened his eyes, staring down at the reflection in the wide glass mirror.
he could only stare at the mess in absolute awe. the sight of you bent over the sink, your shorts pushed down to your knees, your skin flushed a beautiful crimson and glistening with his thick, white fluids, looked like something straight out of the sinful dreams he had hoarded in his concrete barracks. it didn't feel real. the fact that he had actually touched you, filled you, and marked you like this inside his grandmother’s house made his heart thump.
with a sigh, caleb leaned his entire weight forward, completely hugging you from behind. his broad chest pressed firmly against your back while his large arms wrapped securely around your waist to support your sagging frame. he buried his face into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as if he were trying to memorize it all over again.
“pipsqueak,” he whispered, his voice incredibly rough, gravelly. ”hey... look at me. are you okay? did i hurt you?”
you let out a small whimper, your head shifting weakly against his shoulder as you managed to nod. “yes... i'm okay.”
caleb let out a breathy chuckle, and he tilted his head to press a soft kiss against your burning cheek. “do you think we woke gran up?”
you swallowed the dryness in your throat as you stared blankly at the porcelain basin. “i... i don't know, caleb. you were really loud at the end.”
caleb hummed, a lazy, satisfied sound as his thumbs lightly stroked the sensitive skin of your hip bones, soothing the small red marks his fingers had left behind.
“well... if she's awake, she's probably just gonna think i'm clumsy and dropped the wrench again,” he murmured into your hair, his grip tightening just a fraction, pulling you closer into his warmth. “come on. let's get you cleaned up. i'll wash you down, and then... i'll cook you that braised pork you love right now. the one with the sweet soy sauce and the star anise. how would that sound, pips?”
“that sounds great, gege.”
caleb gulped at the nickname. “it's been a while since you used that on me,” his face breaks into a smile, and then he leans down to look at you in the eye instead of through the mirror. “what if you use that while we do it again tonight?”
NOT CLICKBAIT: MY SISTER ASKED ME TO PRACTICE KISSING SEX WITH HER.
it doesn't mean anything. it's just practice. i'll put in just the tip. caleb's usually a man of his word — until he isn't.
includes: 18+ nsfw, pseudocest (a LOT of pseudocest), making out, dryhumping, breastplay, titjob, masturbation while giving a blowjob, cum eating, cunnilingulus, fingering, "just the tip", unprotected sex, squirting, creampie, repressed virgin + repressed virgin = they be doing too much sex
Caleb normally has the patience of a saint. Hiding your feelings for a girl you see practically 24/7 would do that to you. He's learned all the ways to stop his cheeks from flaring up each time you make his heart flutter, which is saying something, because you basically give him a heart attack just by being in his presence.
But his pretense of normal older brother behavior nearly breaks when you come up next to him on the sofa, head lowered and hands fidgeting, "Caleb, do you know how to... You know..."
You're too shy to say it entirely, but Caleb would be an idiot not to know what you mean when your whole face reddens like a ripe tomato, teeth gnawing on your cherry pink lips in nervousness.
Caleb gently puts down his phone, willing his entire body to remain still. Pretend to be sane. "And pray tell," Caleb is grateful his voice doesn't give away anything he's feeling, eyes still fixated on your lips, "who gave my innocent little sister such dirty fantasies?"
Your head shoots up to face him, cheeks somehow turning even redder. "What?! Get your head out of the gutter! I'm just talking about kissing!"
Something awful fills in his mouth, but he still forces his lips to quirk into a smile, arms crossing over his chest to feign nonchalance. "Why do you want to know?"
"I... um..." You're fiddling with your fingers again, gaze flitting to anywhere that doesn't meet his burning stare. "I want to... practice."
Caleb suppresses the urge to— well, he's not really sure. Something close to a flinch, maybe. If he were drinking tea, he probably would've choked on it from shock.
A thrill runs through him at the request, but a cold dread quickly seeps in to crush any feeling of delight. Sure, this exact situation may have been one of his dirty fantasies, but in his imagination, he never really had any solid idea why you'd want to practice kissing with him in the first place; it was just a silly thing he thought about when his carnal desires took over.
But now that you're in front of him, actually asking him to kiss you, he can't help but think of a thousand possible reasons why. Were you just curious, having watched too many romance movies? Were you practicing for a hypothetical boyfriend?
...Or were you practicing for a guy you already had eyes on, too shy to kiss him without experience?
Well, unfortunately for you, Caleb has never felt the need to kiss, so how would he know how kissing worked? Or at least, he didn't want to kiss anyone that wasn't you. Which was definitely not in his cards.
Until now, the opportunity handed to him on a silver platter.
"You want to practice with me?" Caleb inches his face closer to yours, one brow raised. You blink rapidly, flushed down to your neck.
"It's... it's not that I want to do it with you, specifically..." It's not a very convincing argument, but it sends a pang of hurt to his chest nonetheless. "It's just that I haven't- I don't have anyone else to ask-" Good, because Caleb would've probably killed him. "You know what? Forget about it. It's weird."
You try to get up from the couch and leave, but Caleb wraps a strong hand around your wrist, pulling you back. Perhaps he tugged a little too strongly to his direction, because you end up straddling his lap, hands holding onto his shoulders to balance yourself.
"What's weird?" Caleb smiles, putting on his most convincing expression of 'kissing your sibling is totally normal'. "I don't mind."
Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and disbelief. "You... don't?"
"It's just practice. Why? You think I can't do it?" He pulls you closer by the waist, looking up into your eyes, strands of your hair brushing his cheek. "It's definitely better than letting my baby sister make out with some other loser."
You're gnawing on your lip again, and Caleb can't help but stare at the pink tongue that darts out to wet your dry lip.
"Well?" Caleb cocks his head to the side. "We don't have much time until Gran gets home."
Your grip on his shoulder tightens, cheeks an endearing shade of pink. "...Let's go to your room."
Caleb has the patience of a saint.
He chants it in his mind over and over to convince himself, because he's quickly realizing it isn't true. He'd kept his paws to himself for the better part of the time you've been in his room, even when you sat on his lap instead of beside him on the bed and stared at him expectantly.
The thing is, Caleb knows next to nothing about kissing because he's never tried it himself. But he doesn't let it show. He cups your cheek carefully, tells you to close your eyes, and hopes he's doing a good job of pretending like he knows what he's doing.
From then on, it's instinct.
Slotting your lips together at the right angle. Trying to not lose his breath as he kisses his dearest sister. Biting on your bottom lip gently to urge you to open your mouth for him, and preening when you obediently do.
Caleb doesn't really know how much tongue one should use. But he's probably doing too much.
At first, he's just testing the waters. Licking at the seam of your lips. Teasing the sensitive roof of your mouth. Gives your tongue a shy nudge.
Ten minutes later, he's sucking on it. Hands roaming your body. Eyes glazed over with sheer delight when you don't push him away, instead tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him even closer. He sucks on your tongue like it's candy, and you make noises he's never heard before, "ah, hn, gege..." straight out of a wet dream. He breaks away for a second, just for a breather, but you pull him back in and he nearly moans when you shyly give kitten licks to his tongue, soft and wet and fucking adorable.
Fuck, I'm hard, he thinks to himself, wishing you don't notice, but there's no way you don't feel his bulge pressing against you, rubbing against your thigh.
He wants to move his hips. Hump his cock against your panties beneath your skirt. Better yet, strip all the clothing altogether. Fuck you hard like in the wet dreams that plague him at night. Filthy fantasies of your pussy wrapped around his cock, wet with your juices and his cum. His fingers rubbing your engorged clit to see you cry out his name, drenching his hand with your slick. Cunt stretched to fit all of his thick girth, his base messy with frothy cum.
His hips move, just a little bit. He rolls his hips upward, directly pressing on your pussy. You squeak into his mouth, fingers curling tighter to his hair, but you don't stop him. You can feel him smile as his hands are placed on either side of your waist, moving you to rock back against him.
"C'mon, you move too..." he murmurs before he's sealing your lips again, the slide of his tongue against yours addicting. You clumsily raise your hips, rubbing at the tent in his pants, and the filthy groan he lets out goes straight to your core.
"D-do you do this when you kiss other girls?" You gasp as his lips move to your neck, sucking a visible mark beneath your ear. He makes a vague, unanswering hum, and you end up forgetting you even asked soon enough.
The friction makes you feel hotter than ever, burning at the nerves in your brain. You feel yourself getting dumbed down into a state where all you can think about is more, I need more of him, drowning in your most base desires.
The pace gets more frantic. Your clothed cunt rubs against his pants, all the while Caleb refuses to separate your pressed lips. At this point, you're not sure what you're doing qualifies as kissing, just panting against each other's mouths, tongues rubbing obscenely.
"Mm... ah... stick out your tongue more, meimei..."
"Ahn, yeah, okay... mmph..."
You're almost reaching... something you can't quite name, but it's hot, and it's near. You grind against your big brother more desperately, pursuing that high, and you swear you'll die if Caleb stops—
The front door opens. Gran's keys clatter on the living room table.
Caleb pulls away, and you very nearly whine in disappointment.
But Caleb's hair is in charming disarray, eyes clouded over with lust, lips swollen and shiny with your spit. It's a sight you want to burn into your eyes forever, distracting you enough to forget for a moment how you've been basically blue-balled.
"Fuck," he utters, voice raspy and ruined. His grip on your waist loosens. "We should— we should probably stop here."
"Yes," you respond breathlessly, even though you want to do the exact opposite. Clearing your throat, you slowly pry yourself off from him, legs feeling like jelly.
A wave of mortification washes over you when you find a wet spot on Caleb's pants, right where you rubbed against him. Right where he's pitching a tent he can't possibly hide, somehow even larger than it felt.
You don't acknowledge it. Pretend it doesn't exist. Neither does he, covering it up with the hem of his large sweater. You rush to the door, patting down your messy hair and your even messier clothes, wrinkled and probably soaked with more than just sweat.
But before you leave, you whisper almost too quietly, "...Tomorrow."
Caleb understands immediately. Gives a crooked smile. "Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow" is similar as the first time. The only difference is you're in the dining room, sitting on the table with Caleb between your spread legs, still humping against each other as you desperately lock lips.
You don't make plans after that, but the next day, you find yourself knocking on his door late at night, unable to sleep. He doesn't have to ask why you're there, simply pulls you into his bed as he kisses down your neck, clothed cock rubbing against your pajama shorts.
It takes a week of shy touches and heavy makeouts before Caleb's hands find the courage to leave your waist, trailing up beneath your shirt. You shiver at the sensation of his warm, large hand sliding over your skin, fingers dipping into the slope of your back. "Anyone kissed you here before?" he whispers to your ear, fiddling with the hook of your bra. Stunned speechless, you shake your head no, and it's all he needs to hear to push up your shirt.
Caleb doesn't hide his awe. He stares intently at your chest, at the cute, lacy bra topped off with a tiny bow. It's different from the time he accidentally saw your underwear hanging to dry and you rushed to scurry them off in embarrassment — this time, you're clad in it, showing it off even, despite your burning cheeks.
He takes a sharp breath, hands roaming around your body almost in worship. Pushes up the bra to reveal your tits in full glory, nipples perky and tempting him to lick. He fondles the supple skin, teases at the peaks, and something dark curls in his eyes when he hears you let out a "Haah, wait, Caleb, that's...!"
Slowly, he presses light kisses on the valley of your breasts, licking at the expanse of soft skin. When he wraps his lips around a nipple, his hand prods at the other one, keeping eye contact while he sucks.
His touch feels like fire, your core burning hotter than ever. The sight of your big brother playing with your tits should not excite you this much, but you can feel yourself dripping, soaking your underwear into ruin. You don't dare tear your eyes away even as shame makes you want to hide — it'd be such a waste to miss even a moment of this, to see Caleb lick at your nipples, suck red marks anywhere his lips roam.
"You smell so good..." He presses his nose between your breasts, breathing in the scent of your sweat and the body soap you share. "So pretty..." His tongue trails a line downwards, eyes fixed to your gaze.
You bite down on your bottom lip, struggling to keep yourself quiet. His brow furrows, stopping for a moment to press down on your lip with his thumb. "Don't do that. You'll hurt yourself."
"The neighbors will hear," you murmur, considering the thin walls. Caleb thinks for a moment, and then he grins.
He takes the edge of your shirt, lifting it to your mouth. "Bite on this?"
Your cheeks fill with heat, but you open your mouth in assent.
The humiliation almost makes it hotter. The shirt muffles your moans, but you're also exposing yourself to Caleb, letting your brother suck on your tits as much as he wants. Swirling his tongue around the perky buds, lapping up his own spit that drips down. Squeezing your other breast and flicking the tit with his finger.
"Hey, meimei..." he mumbles while he sucks. He takes one of your hands, places it over the bulge in his pants. "What do you think of kissing gege over here too?"
Moments later, you're on your knees while Caleb stands in front of you, suckling on his tip as he fucks his cock between your tits. "Fuck..." He can't stop himself, lightheaded and on the verge of a nosebleed as he looks down on you, pushing your breasts together and licking his leaking precum. "My baby sister is sucking my cock... you look so good with your mouth full, meimei..."
You couldn't fit most of it in your mouth, not with the sheer size of it. Caleb's cock was so stupidly huge, you could barely wrap your hand around it fully. It was long and thick, and you felt dizzy at the thought of putting it inside you. Your pussy clenched, feeling more empty than ever, and you couldn't help but sneak a hand underneath your shorts to rub your clit, so wet from arousal.
"Haah, that's it, keep going..." Without noticing it himself, Caleb's thrusts have gotten rougher, his tip scraping the back of your throat. "Gege's cumming soon... take all of my cum, hm?"
Your rubbing grows more frantic as he reaches closer to orgasm, admiring his pleasured expression. Caleb runs a hand through his hair, hips still moving to fuck his dick in your mouth, muscled torso shiny with sweat. "Ugh, fuck, your tongue... yeah, that spot feels so good, pips... gege loves it when you suck me like that."
I want his cock in me I want his cock in me chants in your head, fingers still rubbing your clit. You've always masturbated to your older brother, imagined his hot body over yours, but it's different when he's using you for his own release. Having him fuck his huge dick to your throat while you're touching yourself, watching him in the throes of pleasure.
"Ah, shit, here it comes, fuck— show me your tongue, meimei—"
Caleb pulls you away from his dick by your hair, and you'd be disappointed if not for the sight of him jerking off his own cock, fist hitting over his heavy balls, until he shoots his thick load, spraying cum all over your face, your stuck out tongue, and your tits.
You cum on your fingers as he groans deeply, still stripping his cock as he releases, and it takes a while for him to finish cumming. "Fuck... that felt so good..."
Caleb looks down at you, places a thumb on your cum-stained tongue, and swirls it around. "Swallow it."
You obey, gulping down his thick load. His eyes shine with satisfaction, patting your head like he usually does to praise you. "Good girl."
He helps you to your feet, pushing you back to bed. His large hands roam around your body again, running along your curves, massaging his cum on your tits. Then he leans down to lick it off, not once breaking eye contact.
"Don't worry about the mess. Gege's going to clean you up now, okay?"
Your little "kissing practice" becomes so much more. Eventually, you're sneaking around every opportunity you get — when Gran is out, or when it's late at night, or when you're about to shower and Caleb gets the bright idea to sneak in the bathroom to pin you against the wall and slide his cock between your legs. Look, my cock and your pussy are kissing.
It doesn't take a genius you've gone far, far beyond just kissing. So it doesn't surprise you anymore when on one of your "practice sessions" in your bedroom, his fingers brush on your inner thigh. "Let me kiss you here, too."
It's not surprising, but you still feel a bit shy lifting up your skirt and spreading your legs when Caleb tells you to. He looks far too pleased with himself when he finds you're absolutely wet, pure white panties almost see-through. He rubs your clothed clit with his thumb, chuckling when you unconsciously move your hips to grind against his finger.
But Caleb doesn't have the patience to tease. He slips off your underwear and marvels at the strings of arousal clinging to your soaked panties. "Naughty girl..." He clicks his tongue, gripping your thighs to spread them apart. "So wet for her big brother."
Your pretty pussy is flushed pink, dripping onto the sheets. He can see it clench around nothing in anticipation, waiting for his cock to fill it up with cum.
Caleb can't stop himself anymore. He inhales deeply into your bare cunt, groans a curse to himself, then begins to dig in.
His first lick is a broad stripe on your clit, thick tongue swiping on the sensitive nub. You jolt at the unfamiliar sensation, curling your fingers into his hair. "Ah, wait, Caleb- ohh, ahh, no...!"
"So fucking sweet," he moans at the taste, licking relentlessly now. "Fuck, I should've done this sooner."
He laps at your slit, drinking up the pussy juice that won't stop leaking. He smothers his face in it, nose rubbing on your clit and chin dripping with your slick, hands holding down your trembling legs to the mattress. He's squeezed between your thighs, and he looks like he's on heaven, utterly delighted at the moans he's pulling from you.
"Nn, mm, ahh, gege! Oh, your tongue-!" You're unable to string together a full sentence, mind a constant loop of so good fuck fuck gege's licking my pussy so good.
Caleb slurps noisily, an embarrassing noise you'll worry about later, but for now, your fried brain can only think it's so hot, you're so wet, gege please lick me more I love it right there please please.
Caleb sucks your clit like he's making out with it, rolling his tongue in circles and lapping up anything he can catch, thoroughly pussy drunk and intoxicated. He's grinding mindlessly into the mattress until he can't take it anymore, freeing his cock from his sweatpants and jerking off at the taste of your pussy.
"You're so fucking good for me, meimei," Caleb groans loudly, fucking his tongue into your hole as his dick pulsates in his hand, spurting more precum. You thrash around, riding his face and making a mess of him. "Fuck yes, just use me. Gege's just a toy to make you feel good."
And it really is as if you're treating him like a toy for your pleasure, burying his face to your pussy, uncaring if he can't breathe. Carelessly bucking up your hips to get his tongue deeper, licking the spot you want him to reach. Rubbing your swollen clit on his nose.
You've fantasized about this, of your big brother holding you down on your bed and making you cum on his tongue. Not stopping until you've squirted all over him, his fingers still fucking your pussy even when you feel overstimulated. You want it. You want it so bad.
"Caleb, more, please, I'm gonna cum!" you wail, legs trembling, bracing for the orgasm you know will ruin you.
"Go on," Caleb says, and you can feel the words form on his lips against your cunt, the vibrations driving you closer to the brink, "Cum on your big brother's face."
Your eyes roll back, liquid spraying out from your pussy and onto Caleb's mouth. "Fuck yes, keep squirting on me, pips." It keeps coming out like a leaking faucet and Caleb sits up, putting his cock on your pussy and letting the squirt drench him, using it as lube as he rubs his cock.
"Shit, you're so wet," he says in awe, staring as you keep spraying the clear liquid. He taps your clit with his tip, laughing when it makes you gush one last time. "So sensitive, too."
"Gege... ah..." you weakly utter when Caleb keeps rubbing his cock on your pussy, covering himself in your cum. The obscene squelch only gets him harder.
His cock is throbbing, so hard that it hurts. He wants to put it in. Fuck his precious little sister's pussy that's right in front of him. Take her virginity and fill her up with his hot cum. Fuck her against every surface on this house, on your bed, in the bathtub, on the floor, at the sofa you both always watched TV on growing up.
"Just the tip," he pants, just sane enough to make a compromise, prodding at your hole with the leaking head. "I want to put it inside you, meimei."
"Ah..." You stare at the cock between your legs, so huge compared to your tight pussy. We can't isn’t something you can say when you've already crossed the line several times over. And you can't seem to take your eyes away from his dick, thick in girth and long, curving prettily in a way you know will hit that spot inside you.
"Please..." He leans down to whisper in your ear, hand pressing down on your stomach, measuring just how deep it'll reach. "Gege's been wanting this for so long."
There's no way that'll fit, the more reasonable voice inside your head cries out. I want all of him inside me, the whore in you says otherwise. "G... gege's cock is too big..." You don't mean it to sound so provocative, saying it as statement of fact, but he twitches against your skin, and you hope it's only in your imagination when you think Oh god, did he just get bigger...?!
"Then gege will be careful." Caleb strokes your pussy with his fingers, enjoying watching you tremble at the lightest touch. "I'll make sure it won't hurt."
And so, Caleb begins his quest to loosen your virgin pussy. A quest he seems to particularly enjoy, boredom never flicking across his features as he adds more fingers to your tight cunt. Marvels at the overflowing wetness slicking his hand, prodding everywhere in search of your g-spot. Holds down your thighs when he finds it, not allowing you to escape from the pleasure.
"Do you like this, pips? Do you like it when your big brother fingerfucks you?"
He sounds utterly sinful, words slightly muffled by the tit in his mouth, fucking in three thick fingers in your cunt, a thumb rolling on your poor, puffy clit.
"I like it so much." He makes another hickey on your chest. "I like the feeling of my sister's tight, virgin pussy squeezing around me."
Inevitably, his filthy words make you cum hard, splattering a mess on his arm.
"Cumming again?" Caleb hums as you gush around him for the nth time, fingers still moving, making your pussy squelch. "You really like this, huh?"
You groan weakly as he peppers your face with kisses, pussy twitching from the overstimulation. "Hnn... too much, Caleb... I can't..."
Caleb tuts, sucking another mark on your collarbone. "You can."
"Gegeee," you whine, holding onto his back. You feel like you've cum enough times to last a lifetime, the sheets beneath you soaked through and through.
"Please?" He nuzzles against your neck, affectionate and loving. "Just the tip. I want to feel you inside."
You glance at this monster-sized cock. And then at the puppy dog eyes that don't match it at all, sparkling innocently like he didn't just say the filthiest talk known to man.
"You don't want to try it?" He slides his heavy cock between your legs, letting you feel every vein. "I'll make it feel good. Better than my tongue."
He takes his dick in his hand, dips the head inside your pussy, just a small stretch. A fresh wave of slick wets it, spurting clear drops of arousal. When you don't push him away, just wrapping your arms around him and waiting with bated breath, he carefully pushes deeper.
It's thicker than you imagined it'd feel. Even thicker than his fingers. An overwhelming pressure that takes your breath away, your mouth forming an 'o', and you're almost annoyed when he stops sliding in.
He really just put the tip.
"Fuuuuck," he swears, using all his restraint not to slide everything in one go, a bead of sweat from his chin dropping on your chest. "Your pussy's so warm, meimei..."
"Haah, Caleb..." The thickness is nothing you've ever felt before, nothing his fingers could prep you enough for. Caleb's so big everywhere, from his height, his broad shoulders, his toned arms, his hands on your waist, and even with how massive he feels with just the tip, you can see the length of him that hasn't gone inside between your legs.
He moves slowly, fucking his tip in and out in a pace that leaves you wanting and hungry. "Mm, shit..."
He grips you tightly, gaze fixed on the way you clench around him, pretty pussy welcoming his cock. You wrap around him so deliciously, your cute twitchy clit just sitting above his cock. "God, you're so tight, my cock probably won't fit all the way."
It's a hypothetical thought. Because he really does mean to just put in the tip.
But you keep sucking him in, cunt warm and wet and hot and so good around him. Without meaning to, his cock slides further than he means to every other thrust, reaching deeper and deeper to your core, the plap plap noises of your skin slapping together echoing in your room.
When his cock is halfway in, Caleb is on the verge of cumming. "Ah, ah, wait, shit, sorry," he's panting out, apologies spilling from his lips, but his hips never stop moving. "Fuck, you just feel so good, I can't stop."
Your nails are digging scratches on his muscled back, mind turned into mush. The only thing you can think about is how big he is, how much deeper he could go if he went all the way. How much better it would feel if you could feel his cock in its entirety.
"Ge," you mindlessly whine. "Gege, please..." Are you begging him to stop? Or to fuck you hard and fast without restraint? You don't even know anymore. But your body answers for you.
You lock your legs around him, pulling him closer.
His cock slides in all the way to the hilt.
"Oh, fuck!"
Without warning, he spills inside you, load after load of cum filling up your pussy. He's cumming hard, groaning brokenly into your neck, his orgasm so mind-shattering he can't do anything other than pump his milk deep in your cunt, hot neverending pulses of semen flowing to your womb.
"Ah, shit, I'm sorry, I can't stop cumming, fuck...!"
It's not just that he can't stop cumming. He's still as hard as he was before.
It isn't long before he hoists your legs on his shoulders, looking absolutely pussy drunk. He rams his entire cock into you with rough, deep thrusts, fucking his cum deeper into your womb, some of it overflowing from your hole and coating the base of his cock in white. "I came inside my little sister's pussy," he babbles mindlessly, his groans pornographic. "My cum... deep inside your cunt... fuck..."
"Ge, your cock is so big," you moan like a slut, uncaring if the neighbors hear the debauchedy in your house at this point. "Fuck me more, please, I want more of your cum!"
"Ah, meimei, you're being so loud." Caleb brings his hand to your pussy, tormenting your clit again, making your legs kick out. "Everyone will know your big brother is fucking you so good. Getting his little sister pregnant while no one else is home."
"Yes, yes, please, I love it when my big brother cums inside me!"
"Yeah? You wanna be gege's cumdump?" He pants, flicking your clit, groping your breasts, nailing your g-spot in every thrust — everything he knows to make you moan louder, scream his name. "Go ahead. Milk your big brother's cock dry."
Time passes in a blur. It just so happens that you'll be alone at home for the next few days, your Gran going out to visit a friend from the countryside. Caleb takes this as his opportunity to fuck you without fear of getting caught.
Caleb fucks you in all sorts of positions, in different places — doggy style in the kitchen, making a mess on the floor; "Haah, meimei, how do we face Gran after this? You've squirted all over the table we use to eat together."
Reverse cowgirl on the living room couch, the show playing on the TV completely forgotten; "Ah, pips, didn't you say you liked this actor? Something about how good-looking he is. So why aren't you paying attention? Come on, hng, haah... don't just fuck yourself on gege's cock. Focus on the movie."
Laid out on your bed, 69 in your room; "Fuck, you're dripping all over me, baby... Yeah, suck on my cock, just like that. Your mouth feels fucking amazing."
And now, in his bedroom, Caleb leans back, letting his precious baby sister ride him first thing in the morning, awoken by the feeling of your wet pussy enveloping his cock. He enjoys seeing you fuck him yourself, desperate for release, tits moving as you bounce on his dick, flicking your own nipples and rubbing your clit to give him a show.
"That kissing practice," Caleb starts, unable to help himself and lazily circles your swollen clit with his finger, making you cry out, "that was just a ploy for me to train you, wasnt it? Training you to be your big brother's slut."
"Ah, ah, yes, hn, I wanted... wanted to be gege's slut!" You move your hips with more fervor now, and Caleb knows too well that's a sign you're close.
He pushes you to your back, slamming into your pussy with intense thrusts. Makes you squirt on his cock, spraying all over his abs. Smiles at the sight of your fucked-out face, tongue lolling out, eyes rolled back. "That's right. You've become my slut. All mine."
And then he thrusts again, and again, and again. Because he's raised a devil who can't be satisfied with normal sex anymore.
(And if he slips in an "I love you" or two after that, well, you're too fucked out to hear anyway.)
He’s barely awake, sprawled on his back, shirtless and warm, breathing slow and deep with one arm draped lazily across your body. His hair is tousled, his mouth parted just slightly, pink lips glistening with sleep. He smells like shampoo and fresh sheets, like home.
You’ve been laying on top of him for an hour now, your cheek squished against his thick pec, his steady heartbeat lulling you into a daze. But there’s one big, big problem.
Your core has been throbbing the entire time.
“Caleb~” you whisper, pouting as you wiggle a little against him. Your voice comes out sticky sweet, nearly a whine, lips brushing his skin as you press soft kisses to his chest.
He groans softly, barely shifting, palm massaging your thigh without thinking. “I know, pipsqueak…” he mumbles sleepily, “but mmmh… too tired…”
His voice is gravelly, thick with exhaustion, but the way his fingers squeeze your thigh—slow, deliberate—sends heat shooting straight to your core. You clench around nothing, breath catching at the dull ache between your legs.
But then…
“Use me, baby…” he whispers suddenly, not even opening his eyes. His voice drops low and broken, just shy of a whimper. “Mmmhh… wanna feel you too…”
You blink, stunned. “Wha—?” He just nods, still half-asleep, his arm falling limply back to the bed as he slips further into slumber. And now? Now your pussy’s practically drooling.
Your breath trembles as you slowly slide down his body, nuzzling lower, lower, until your nose presses into the warm bulge in his sweatpants. You inhale shakily—he smells like sweat and skin and him—and you press the softest kiss through the fabric. He stirs, a low whine escaping his throat, and you swear you see his hips shift the tiniest bit. So you do it again.
Another soft kiss. Another nuzzle. Your tongue darts out and licks a little stripe through the cotton, and he moans. A sweet, sleepy sound, head tipping back on the pillow, brows furrowed like he’s dreaming of exactly what’s happening.
You slide his waistband down just enough to free his cock—heavy, flushed, already twitching even in sleep—and your lips part in awe. Your tongue presses flat against the underside of it, licking slowly from base to tip before wrapping your mouth around the head.
He gasps, breath hitching, hips twitching weakly. “Mmhhnn… baby… yeah…” he breathes, not fully conscious but feeling everything. You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as your saliva drips down his shaft. You moan around him, the vibration making his cock jerk in your mouth, his abs tightening beneath your palm. But he never opens his eyes—too tired, too wrecked.
When you climb back up and sink down onto him minutes later, he lets out the prettiest, broken sigh in his sleep, like you just made all his dreams come true.
You move slowly, grinding your hips down as you bite into his shoulder to muffle your sounds, tears pooling in your eyes at the stretch. His cock fits perfectly inside you even when he’s completely still, even when you’re the one doing all the work.
And Caleb? Still half-asleep. Still moaning. Still letting you use him.
You feel like a goddamn pervert riding your boyfriend’s dick while he’s drifting in and out of sleep, but when his arms weakly wrap around you and he breathes out, "so warm… feel so good, pipsqueak…"—
“You trust me, don’t you? You trust me to keep you safe…and this is what I do?”
“This,” he mutters, dragging two fingers through your slit, “—is why you lock your fucking door.”
synopsis: you start leaving your door unlocked at night, so caleb comes in to check on you. when he promises to keep you safe, he didn't mean from himself.
a/n: i have nothing appropriate to say about this…..
Sure, it’s only been a year since he left for college. But somehow, Caleb comes home taller, broader, with a sharp jaw and deep voice that makes your stomach twist.
“Whatcha starin’ at, pipsqueak?” he teases. “Forget what your big brother looks like?”
He reaches for your head—an old reflex, the kind he used to do without thinking. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the usual palm to your scalp, the rough tousle that always left your hair a mess.
But it never comes.
His hand stills mid-air, lingering by your temple. His fingers brush down the side of your face, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. But they don’t leave. Instead, they hover there—just for a second too long—knuckles grazing your cheek like he forgot what he was doing halfway through.
“You’ve… grown up,” he says, low. Like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
Your breath catches. You force a small laugh, trying to shake it off. “Yeah, well. Happens when you abandon me for a whole year.”
He huffs out a smile, but his eyes don’t leave yours. He’s still standing too close, still looking at you like he’s trying to solve something he doesn’t want to admit is a problem.
“You look different,” he says. You can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
You swallow. “So do you.”
He doesn’t answer that. Just lets the silence stretch between you until he eventually steps back and clears his throat.
“I should go unpack.”
And you nod like your heart isn’t racing, like you don’t still feel the ghost of his fingers on your skin.
Later that night, you’re curled beneath your sheets, phone light dimmed, still scrolling through nothing when a soft knock sounds at your door.
“Hey,” Caleb’s voice comes through quietly. “You still up?”
“Yeah,” your heart jumps as you toss your phone aside. “Come in.”
He opens the door, hair damp from a late shower, shirt clinging just slightly at his collarbone. You try not to notice how strong he looks in your doorway, how the deep V of his lower abs is exposed each time he runs a hand through his hair.
“I just wanted to say goodnight,” he says, leaning against the frame. “Didn’t want you thinking I forgot.”
You smile, suddenly shy. “Thanks.”
He steps closer, bracing a hand against your wooden headboard, leaning over you just slightly. He was so close could smell his shampoo, feel the heat of him near your skin.
“Y’know,” he murmurs, eyes flickering over your face. “You used to throw a fit if I forgot to kiss you goodnight.”
You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m not little anymore.”
“No,” he says, his voice quieter now. “You’re not.”
Something changes in the air, but you don’t say anything. Neither does he.
Not when he kneels beside your bed. Not when his thumb sweeps the corner of your mouth. Not when he leans in close—closer than he should—and lets his lips press to your forehead, slow and warm.
It should’ve been harmless. It used to be. But he presses another kiss, lower, this time against your cheek. You feel the breath hitch in his chest, and you wonder if he feels yours. And when his lips hover over your mouth, you forget how to breathe entirely.
But he stops. Pulls back.
“You should get to sleep,” he says, like it’s nothing. But his voice is frayed, like he’s holding something back.
You nod, curled under your blanket, the heat of his goodnight kiss still tingling on your cheek.
He lingers in your doorway, but he doesn’t quite leave.
“You’re not gonna walk me out?” he asks after a beat, half-teasing. “You used to always lock the door behind me.”
It’s true. You used to be afraid of a lot of things, and locking your door at night made you feel more at ease. But that was years ago.
“I know,” you say, shrugging into your blanket. “Guess I’m not scared anymore.”
“You sure?” he asks, voice low.
You nod. “I trust you to keep me safe now.”
His gaze drags over you—your bare legs, the way your comforter is pulled up only halfway. He swallows.
"I always have,” he says before stepping out. But this time, it sounds like a promise. Or a warning.
And when he closes your door, he doesn’t shut it all the way.
—
You didn’t lock the door.
Caleb knows because he waited. After that kiss, after your voice, so quiet and sweet— I trust you. He stood in the hallway for a long time. Listening. Wondering if you’d get up. If you’d change your mind.
But you didn’t.
You don’t hear the door creak open a few hours later. Don’t see the way he stands in the doorway for too long, just watching you. You’re turned away, breathing slowly, body slack with sleep.
At least, that’s what he thinks.
Your heartbeat isn’t slow. Not anymore. You know he’s there. You don’t know why he’s there, but you don’t dare to move.
He sits beside you on the mattress, careful and quiet. Too quiet, you think. You feel his fingertips brush against your outer thigh, where your shorts had started to ride up your legs.
“You shouldn’t sleep like this,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. Like he’s angry with you for letting him see.
His voice is hoarse, rough in a way you hadn’t heard from him before. You think maybe he’ll pull away.
He doesn’t.
His hand slides under the covers, palm finding your knee. He grazes the inside of your thigh with the back of his fingers, your skin so soft there. So warm.
“You’re not scared anymore, hm?” he says. “Maybe you should be.”
He knows he shouldn’t want this. His hand moves higher anyway, up under your sleep shorts, until his fingers meet the cotton hem of your panties. Damp already. He exhales like it knocks the breath out of him.
“Shit,” he whispers. “You’re already soaked.”
He presses down, just a little. Just to feel. Just to see how you’d respond. You shift under his touch, a tiny whimper escaping your lips. Not pain, not fear, just…need.
He thinks you’re still asleep.
That makes it worse. Better. He doesn’t know anymore.
“You trust me, don’t you? You trust me to keep you safe, and…and this is what I do?”
The pad of one finger drags up the center of your panties. Once. Twice. You try not to move, but you can’t help but arch into his touch. He drags his finger again, slower this time, and watches you twitch.
“Look at you,” he breathes, almost in awe. “So sensitive.”
He hooks a finger under the thin fabric of your underwear and drags it to the side, for a moment just staring at you in awe. Like he’s not sure if he should keep going. Like this is something he dreamed about and now it’s real and he might die from it.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re unreal.”
His hand starts to tremble. He moves his finger again, slow and tentative, like he’s testing the edge of a fantasy.
“This,” he mutters, dragging two fingers through your slit, “—fuck. This is why you lock your fucking door.”
He keeps moving up and down, gliding through the mess he’s made of you. His breath stutters with every touch.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he whispers between strokes. “How many times I’ve had to stop myself.”
He tests your entrance, his free hand palming his cock over his sweatpants.
“How many times I had to sit across from you on the couch, pretending I didn’t want this. That I wasn’t imagining how you’d feel…” He finally presses inside, brushing against a spot that makes you clench around his finger. “…ah…right here.”
His jaw tenses. You feel the tension in his whole body, the way he’s shaking from how hard he’s holding himself back.
“Pretending I didn’t notice how you’d squirm when I stood too close. How you’d look away when I caught you staring.”
He strokes you again, this time with more pressure. His thumb brushes just beneath your clit—an accident or a test, you can’t tell. He curses under his breath when your hips jump.
“You don’t even know what you’ve been doing to me,” he mutters. “And if you did…you wouldn’t have left the door unlocked.”
He gently pulls out of you, and the withdrawal is enough to make you gasp. Just the softest sound. Barely even a breath.
But it undoes him.
His body goes rigid, like he’s been punched. His hand pulls back so fast, you’d think you burned him. He stares at you—like he’s looking at something he wants more than anything, and knows he’s not allowed to keep.
“God,” he says, low and broken. “What the hell am I doing?”
His fingers curl into fists, like he’s trying to erase the feeling of you. Like he knows he never will.
“I shouldn’t have…” He trails off, shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Then he turns, walking out without another word.
And this time, you hear the lock click behind him.
—
You didn’t move when you heard the door open the next night, holding your breath when you feel the mattress dip under Caleb’s weight.
You’d left the blanket low on your hips when you tucked yourself in. Wore your smallest tank top, your softest underwear. An invitation in all but words.
You weren’t sure if he’d come to see you again that night. But, God, you’d hoped he would.
“I told myself it was just a mistake,” he murmurs. “That I’d touched you by accident. That I stopped before it went too far.”
His hand finds your calf beneath the sheets, thumb brushing circles into your skin like he’s afraid to wake you.
“But then I tasted you.”
Your stomach flips.
“I didn’t mean to,” he whispers. “It was still on my fingers. I just… I couldn’t help it.”
His hand trails higher, settling on the curve of your waist. He kisses the inside of your knee, and your chest hurts from holding back a sound.
“I’ve never done that before. Not with anyone. I never wanted to,” he murmurs. His fingers slide to your hips, finding the band of your underwear. “I told myself it would only ever be you.”
He kisses higher.
“You think I didn’t notice?” he whispers. “How you started wearing less around the house. How you left your door unlocked?”
He starts to tug your panties down gently, like he’s giving you time to stop him. But you don’t.
“You didn’t say it. But you knew what it would do to me, didn’t you?”
You didn’t know, not really. You’d hoped he’d look at you if your skirts were shorter, hoped he’d notice your new perfume. But you never imagined it would break him. That pretending to sleep would make him finally tell the truth.
You didn’t know what it would do to you, either. Because now you’re soaked, shaking, desperately waiting for what comes next. And you don’t think you can go back.
“I told myself I’d wait until you were older. Until you were ready. Until I could look you in the eye and ask.”
Your panties reach your knees. Then your ankles. Then the floor. You feel his breath hot on your thigh, his mouth brushing higher up your legs.
“But you’re already giving it to me, aren’t you? Mmm… just like this.”
He kisses your hipbone, your inner thigh, your stomach.
“I jerked off with you still on my hand, you know,” he says softly. “Didn’t even wash it off, just fucked my fist thinking about how warm you were. How wet. For me.”
You squeezed your thighs together at his confession, already wet at the thought of your brother tasting you, touching himself because of what you did to him.
“…Still asleep?” he murmurs, almost like he’s asking himself.
He waits.
You don’t answer. You don’t move. You let him believe it. Because you want this. Want him. Want him so far gone he needs an excuse to fall apart.
He groans roughly as he leans in, breath hot and ragged against your core.
“Then don’t wake up,” he whispers.
You let him part your thighs farther and finally, finally taste you. Slow licks at first, then longer. Deeper. He parts you open, groaning into you like he’s the one being undone.
He makes a sound, deep and guttural, like it physically hurts to feel you this way.
Then he pulls back, just enough to look at you. To see you.
“This,” he pants, eyes wild, “this is what you’ve been keeping from me?”
His voice breaks like he’s spiraling.
“You don’t know what this does to me,” he says, dragging his tongue through you again. “You don’t know what I’d do to keep it.”
He doesn't stop. Doesn’t pause , doesn’t breathe , just stays buried between your thighs like you’re oxygen.
“I used to imagine what you’d sound like,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over your slit with each word. “What you’d feel like. How soft you’d be here. For me.”
He pushes in. Just one finger, careful, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he goes too fast. But you don’t. You clamp down around him so hard he shudders, and his breath hitches against your skin.
“God,” he breathes. “You’re—fuck, you’re perfect.”
His lips press back to you with long licks, like he’s trying to taste everything he’s ever missed. He spreads you open with his tongue, hands gripping your thighs so hard you think you’ll bruise.
“I’d give you anything,” he whispers. “Everything. Just… just let me stay here. Just let me taste you.”
Your breath falters, but he doesn’t even notice—he’s too far gone, bucking his hips into the mattress, moaning softly into your cunt like he’s starving.
“Can’t believe you’d let me,” he murmurs between strokes. “I’d die for this. You don’t even know—fuck, I’d die.”
And when your body starts to tremble, when your thighs tighten around his head, when he feels your slick pulse against his fingers—
“You’re coming,” he breathes like it’s a sin. “You’re actually—fuck, I can feel it.”
He keeps licking you through it, past it, like he doesn’t care if you beg or speak or even wake up.
Because he’s already ruined.
Because there’s no version of his life after this where he gets to pretend it didn’t happen. No version where he stops wanting. Needing.
“God,” he breathes. “I think I’m in love with you.”
You curl your fingers into fists beneath the covers, digging your nails into your palms—anything to keep still. Anything to keep yourself from reaching for him. To keep from sobbing. To keep from whispering it back.
He presses one last kiss to your thigh, breathes you in like he’s trying to memorize your scent. Then he finally pulls away, chest heaving, eyes glazed over with something between worship and shame.
“I’ll be better tomorrow,” he swears as he leaves.
But not before grabbing your pink panties from the floor, folding them neatly, and slipping them into his pocket.
—
Tonight, you’re curled on your side. You don’t even bother with a blanket. It’s not like you were cold, anyway.
Caleb didn’t wish you goodnight.
You’d spent the past few hours staring at the ceiling, listening carefully for the click of the front door, for the hum of a car engine in your driveway. Just something, anything, to tell you that Caleb had come home.
He had said he was meeting up with some friends tonight. Said they wouldn’t be out too late. But you knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth—not when he pulled on that jacket. The worn leather one he only wore on nights that mattered. Nights he didn’t want you to see.
And when he looked you in the eye and said you weren’t allowed to come along, you didn’t argue. But you watched the way he lingered at the door, like he wanted you to stop him.
You didn’t, even when seeing him leave made your heart ache.
You must have drifted off at some point. Because when you hear footsteps outside of your room, you jolt awake. The door doesn’t open, but you know he’s there. You can feel him watching. Waiting. Wanting.
And on the other side of your door, Caleb stands in the hallway with his jacket still on, hand braced against your doorframe.
He told himself he wouldn’t come here again, not after last time. Not after what he said. What he did. But he can’t stop thinking about you. The way you looked when he left, wearing that tiny fucking tank top he hates.
No—not hates. He hates what it does to him. He hates how you crawl into bed like that with no blanket and expect him to stay away. He wonders if you’re asleep now, if you left the door unlocked again.
His hand finds the knob.
He tells himself he’s just checking on you. That it’s fine. That you like when he checks. That it doesn’t mean anything if you never wake up.
The knob turns easily. You left it open. Again.
His eyes find you immediately, face half-buried in the pillow, bare legs tangled in the sheets like you wanted to make it easier for him. Like you were inviting him.
He can see the curve of your ass under the hem of your shirt—his shirt, he realizes. The thin black one, worn soft from too many washes, now sliding off your shoulder.
His throat goes tight, hand flexing at his side.
He should leave. Just check on you and leave.
But instead, he breathes your name—quiet and raw and unsure. And when you don’t answer, he steps closer.
He kneels beside you, fingers resting at the hem of your shirt. Just resting. But he’s breathing hard now, like it’s taking everything in him not to slip them higher.
“I tried to forget you tonight,” he says, words soft and laced with whiskey. “Tried to stop thinking about you for five fucking minutes.”
He huffs out a low, bitter laugh.
“Didn’t work.”
He sways, his hand tightening in the sheets.
“They smiled at me. Other girls,” he adds. “One of them touched my arm.”
He laughs again, but your stomach twists at the thought of it.
“And all I could think was—you wouldn’t like that.”
You almost smiled at the thought of it. He was right.
He shifts closer, his fingers brushing your bare thigh.
“You’d give me that look. The one that says don’t touch what’s mine.”
He exhales hard.
“I didn’t want any of them. I was hard the whole night with your fucking panties in my pocket.”
Your heart lurches. You didn’t realize he had taken them last night.
“They were still damp. I kept reaching for them like a goddamn addict.”
His hand slips under the shirt you stole from him, fingers grazing your stomach.
“You don’t even have to ask me not to look at anyone else,” he breathes shakily. “You already have everything. All of me.”
His hand leaves your skin, leaving you cold at the sudden absence. You listen to the rustle of denim. The sound of his belt unbuckling. The low sigh he lets out when he peels his jacket off, then his shirt.
He’s stripping down slowly, like he’s trying not to wake you—but also like he needs this. Like he’s been holding it in for too long and can’t take it anymore.
When he’s down to just his underwear, he hesitates. But it’s only a second before he lifts the blanket and crawls into bed behind you.
His bare chest presses warm and strong against your spine, his boxers doing little to hide the heat of him against your backside.
“You always smell like me when you wear this,” he murmurs against your shoulder, bare from where his oversized shirt slipped down your arm.
He breathes you in again, slow and deep, like he can’t get enough of it. Like he’s been starving for this and didn’t even realize how bad.
“I wish I could take you out,” he admits, breath hot on your ear. “So I could pull you into my lap. Press up against you. Make you grind on me while everyone watches.”
He shifts behind you, his hips pressing closer. You can feel the way he’s aching, the full weight of him throbbing against you now.
“But I can’t do that, can I?” he says through gritted teeth. “Because I’m not supposed to want you. Can’t even touch you like this unless you’re asleep.”
His mouth finds your shoulder again and kisses it. Bites it—just barely.
“You make me wanna fuck up everything.”
You feel him adjust himself behind you, the soft fabric of his boxers being pushed down just enough.
His cock presses up between your thighs from behind, hot and heavy against your bare thighs.
He groans like it hurts.
“Let me,” he breathes. “Just let me pretend.”
He grinds once, slow and shallow, just the head of his cock sliding against your entrance. Not in , not yet. But God, he’s close. You don’t stop him.
You’re soaked. He feels it, and chokes on a moan.
“You’re wet,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking wet.”
His hand clenches on your waist.
“Are you dreaming about me too, baby?”
His cock slides against you again, this time slower.
“Fuck, you’d let me do this?” he whispers. “You’d let me use your body like this? Just—just for a second—”
He grinds once more, more pressure this time. His tip catches on your clit and he gasps. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard you taste blood, fighting everything in you to keep still.
“Sometimes I think about taking you away,” he confesses, barely above a whisper. “Somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one knows us. I’d lock the doors and keep you all to myself.”
He presses against you harder. Just the tip. Just enough to make both of you shake.
“You wouldn’t need anything but me. I’d take care of you. Feed you, fuck you, make you forget anyone else ever existed.”
His cock twitches, and everything in you tightens, begging to be filled by him.
“Isn’t that what you want?” he breathes. “To be mine?”
You want to scream yes. You want to beg him to keep going. You want him to stop pretending. But you don’t move. You let him grind against you. You let him pretend a little longer.
“I tried to be good. I tried to just be what you needed.” His mouth presses against your throat, tongue licking your pulse. “But I never stopped hoping you’d need me like this.”
He thrusts between your thighs again, a little faster. He’s not aiming for anything. Just relief. Just friction. Just you. And he’s right there—so close to slipping in, to crossing that final line he swore he wouldn’t.
“I wasn’t supposed to love you like this,” he groans, grinding against you like he’ll die if he stops. “But now I don’t think I could ever love anyone any other way.”
You don’t move. Not when his hips slow, not when his breath hitches against the back of your neck. Not even when he tears himself away from your body with a curse, like it hurts him to do it.
You feel the mattress shift as he pulls back, one hand lingering on your waist like he’s not ready to lose that contact. He places a kiss on the crown of your head.
“Tomorrow,” he whispers, like a promise. “Tomorrow I’ll be good.”
—
Caleb was good the next day.
His eyes didn’t linger on your legs for too long at breakfast. He didn’t rub your shoulders when you looked tired at the dinner table. And he certainly didn’t kiss you goodnight.
And that was the problem.
Because you didn’t want him to be good. You wanted the version of him that slipped into your bed like a secret and touched you like he’d die without it.
So when midnight came and your door stayed closed, you got up.
The house was quiet. His light was off. He didn’t keep his door locked. Of course he didn’t.
You found him lying there in his bed, face so peaceful in his sleep, the blanket slipped low on his waist. He’s in his boxers and nothing else. And he’s hard.
So hard.
You shouldn’t look. Shouldn’t let your eyes linger on the shape of him under the thin fabric, the way the outline strains just enough to show you everything. The way the tip is already damp with precome, staining through.
But you do. And your thighs press together involuntarily.
You tell yourself it’s just curiosity as you climb onto the bed beside him. Just a little closer.
He doesn’t stir.
So you sit on your knees, hover over his hips. And when he still doesn’t move, you reach.
Just two fingers. Just to touch. To trace the edge of that wet spot and—
He groans.
His hips buck up into your hand, slow and sleepy like he’s still dreaming. Like he wants it, even in sleep.
“Mmm—fuck…” he murmurs, not quite conscious. “Don’t stop…”
Your hand stills.
You shouldn’t.
You absolutely shouldn’t.
But—
“So warm,” he breathes. “So soft… always wanted… you…”
Your core throbs.
You want to hear what else he says in dreams. You want to see how far he’ll go.
And God help you, you want to take him there.
“Just wanna feel you. Just once. Just a little—please—” he mumbles.
One hand slides between you, wraps gently around the base of him. He twitches in your grasp, lets out a low, broken moan—your name barely audible on his lips.
“You’re supposed to be good,” he slurs, voice heavy with sleep. “I’m supposed to protect you from this. From me.”
Your hand trembles as you push your panties to the side, hesitating for only a breath before you sink down—just enough to feel the heat of him, the stretch that makes your breath catch. Just enough to lose your mind.
“God, yes, that’s it,” he whispers. “Let me have this. Let me have you…”
You sink a little deeper. Then deeper. Until you’re fully seated on him, trembling from how good it feels. How wrong it feels. How much you don’t want to stop, either.
“You’re letting me—” He gasps. “You’re letting me .”
You bite your lip, hard. Because it’s too much. It’s not enough. And the worst part?
He was still holding back.
Even now. Even inside you, he’s shaking with restraint. Like he’s terrified that if he moves, you’ll disappear.
So you do the only thing you can.
You rock your hips.
“Oh my fucking—”
And that’s it.
His hand grips your hips, mouth pressing against your neck as he thrusts just once, impossibly deep.
“—Fuck. You feel so real.”
You ride him slow, deep, your walls fluttering around him.
“I dream about this every night. You never stay,” he pants. “You leave right before I get there.”
You kiss his neck. His jaw. His chest.
He shakes.
“Always leave me aching. So fucking close. Never—never get to finish,” his voice breaks. “Never get to stay inside.”
Your body clenches at that.
He notices. He stills, just for a second.
Before you can react, his hands are on your waist, flipping you effortlessly onto your back.
“I’m not letting you leave this time,” he growls. “But you want me to lose it, don’t you?”
He thrusts back in, deeper this time, rougher. You gasp, and he smiles.
“That’s it,” he pants, fucking into you with a force that makes the headboard knock. “That’s what I’ve been wanting to hear.”
His hand wraps around your throat—barely there, just enough to own you.
“Wanna keep you like this forever, tied to my bed. My pretty little girl.”
He presses his forehead against yours, losing rhythm.
“You’d let me, wouldn’t you? You’d take it? Let me fuck you full?”
His hips start to stutter up into you, shallow and desperate. His hands roam, frantic—over your waist, your thighs, your ass, like he’s trying to feel everything before he loses it.
“Mine,” he murmurs. “You’d be mine.”
He fucks you like it’s instinct, like he wants to stay inside so long you forget anyone else ever existed.
“You always were,” he whispers, mouth against your neck. “In every dream. In every fucking life. You were mine.”
You shouldn’t say it. You know you shouldn’t.
But your body’s trembling and he’s buried so deep inside you and he sounds so sincere, like he needs this more than air—and God help you, you need it too.
So you whisper it.
“Caleb,” you breathe. “I’m yours.”
Just once. Just for tonight.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “You never say that. Never let me hear it. Not even in my dreams.”
He thrusts deeper. Holds you like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t.
“Say it again,” he begs, desperate. “Please, please—just one more time.”
You bite your lip, shake your head. But your hips lift, chasing him.
Your voice is barely a whisper.
“I’m yours.”
He comes with a cry, mouth on your throat, arms locked around you so tightly it almost hurts.
“Mine,” he repeats, softer now. “Mine, mine, mine…”
Like he’s still half-dreaming. Like he doesn’t realize you’re real beneath him, trembling and aching and filled with him.
His thrusts slow to nothing. Just the faint tremble of him buried deep inside you, the quiet warmth of his breath on your skin.
“I always wake up,” he whispers. “Right before this part. Right before you say it back.”
You freeze.
“I say what?” you whisper.
But he doesn’t answer. He’s already drifting. Already pressing a kiss to your cheek like he’s done it a hundred times in dreams you never knew about.
You slip out before sunrise, slow and careful, peeling his heavy arm from your waist, untangling your legs from his. You’re still sore where he held you down, where he gasped your name like a prayer and begged to stay inside.
He’ll wake up thinking it was a dream, and you’ll let him. Because if Caleb knew it was real, you don’t think he’d ever forgive himself.
⚘. summary Ꮺ You ordered a custom dildo that perfectly matches your big-brother-figure Caleb’s dick. Caleb ordered a pocket pussy that perfectly matches your's. Neither of you knows the toys are synced to the real thing. Now every time one of you fucks your toy, the other feels it—like ghost sex on steroids. You’ve both spent months thinking you’re being haunted by the supernatural while secretly fucking each other senseless through the wall. The feedback loop goes haywire. No one is surviving this vacation with their sanity intact.
⚘. content warnings Ꮺ pseudocest, og cn gege/meimei trope, heavy dubcon, masturbations, unsolved sexual tension, zero communications, guilt, denial, forbidden desires, sexual frustration, mutual yearning, usage of sex toys, magical sex toys that secretly link to other person's body, mutual fucking, semi-public/public, double penetration, extreme tightness + involuntary orgasms, excessive cumming/squirting, porn with little no plot . . .18 + ★ MINORS DNI !
⚘. wc Ꮺ 6k+
⚘. cherry’s note Ꮺ this is probably the weirdest scenario I've written so far... took me some real good TIME to finish...
“And that’s the last box,” you huff, letting the cardboard thud against the scuffed hardwood near the doorway. You straighten up straight, rolling your shoulders, wiping the sheen of sweat from your forehead with the back of your wrist. The tiny apartment looks like a warzone of luggage and flat-pack furniture Caleb swore you “absolutely needed”—his credit card, his orders, his quiet, stubborn way of still taking care of you even when he’s hundreds of miles away.
Linkon City air tastes different. Sharper. Lonelier.
You’ve been here three weeks and it still doesn’t feel like home. Maybe it never will without him barging through the door, scolding you for leaving dishes in the sink or for forgetting to eat again.
A sigh slips out as you kick off your sneakers. Shower first, chaos later.
Clothes hit the floor in a careless pile. The bathroom is barely big enough for one person, but the water pressure is perfect—hot, punishing, exactly what your sore muscles crave. Steam fills the cramped space, fogging the mirror, swallowing every reflection that isn’t you.
You tip your head back, letting the spray pound against your throat, your collarbones, sliding down between your breasts. The heat loosens something inside your chest.
Caleb’s face flashes behind your closed eyes uninvited. Always uninvited, yet always there.
Sharp jaw. Tired eyes that soften only for you. The way his pilot uniform hugs his shoulders now that he’s filling out, taller and broader every time he comes home on break. The way he still calls you “little pipsqueak” even though you’re not little anymore.
You shouldn’t.
You really, really shouldn’t.
But your hand is already moving, gliding over slick skin, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your navel, lower.
“You must’ve felt this heavy too, gege…” you whisper to the steam, voice trembling with guilt and something darker. “All alone in Skyhaven… in that big empty house with no one to—”
Your fingers slip between your thighs, parting swollen folds, finding yourself already soaked and it has nothing to do with the shower.
A broken little sound escapes as you circle your clit, slow, teasing, the same way you’ve imagined he would if he ever—God—if he ever let himself unravel like this.
“Mmh… gege, are you worried about me?” The words come out filthy, breathless, wrong in the best way. “Do you… think about me when you’re alone too?”
You press two fingers inside yourself, curling, pumping, thighs shaking. The heel of your palm grinds against your clit and your hips jerk forward like you’re fucking your own hand, like you’re chasing a ghost that wears his face.
You’ve never touched each other. Not once. Not beyond lingering hugs that lasted too long, not beyond his thumb brushing your cheek when you cried after graduation, not beyond falling asleep on his shoulder during long flights home and pretending both of you didn’t notice how neither moved away.
But you know.
You both know.
“C-Caleb—” His name cracks in your throat as you come undone, clenching hard around your fingers, knees nearly buckling. Water pounds over you like it’s trying to wash the sin off your skin, but it can’t reach the stain inside your chest.
You stay there until the water starts to cool, forehead pressed to the tile, panting, ashamed, and still aching for him.
Because even an entire city apart, even with new lives and new rules and the Hunter Academy waiting to swallow you whole tomorrow—Caleb is still the only home you want to go back to.
And you’re terrified he wants to come back to you too.
You step out of the bathroom wrapped in nothing but steam and guilt, skin still tingling, cheeks flaming hotter than the shower ever got. Droplets race down your neck, your spine, between your ass cheeks; every trickle feels like a reprimand. You don’t even bother with clothes. You just belly-flop onto the bed, wet hair fanning across the pillow, and immediately start flailing like a dying shrimp.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” you hiss, kicking the sheets, punching the mattress, rolling side to side until the towel finally gives up and falls open. You lie there spread-eagle, panting at the ceiling like it personally offended you.
You miss your stupid, overprotective, stupidly hot gege this much.
It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.
You need to do something about it before you lose the last shred of your sanity.
With a groan you drag the laptop Caleb bought you—matte black, way too expensive, has a little fighter-jet sticker he slapped on the lid as a joke— onto your stomach and flip it open. Fingers hover over the keys for half a second before shame loses the fight.
You type: “best sex toys for beginners”.
The screen explodes with color and silicone and words like “thrusting” and “suction” and “10 vibration patterns”. Your eyes go wide.
“Oh WOW…”
You scroll, jaw literally on the floor, until you hit the prices and wheeze. Eight hundred dollars for a rabbit vibrator? Who has that kind of money? Certainly not a broke freshman hunter living off instant noodles and Caleb’s guilt-money transfers.
You slam the laptop shut, fling yourself backward again, and whine at the ceiling.
“Too broke for that… damn, I can’t even get a proper dildo shoved up into my pussy, life is unfair—”
Ding ding.
Your phone lights up on the nightstand. Unknown number. A link.
Normally you’d ignore it. Today you’re desperate and dumb, so you squint, see “70% OFF FLASH SALE!!” in screaming red letters, and click before your brain catches up.
The site that loads is… questionable. Neon pink, flickering banners, probably one virus away from stealing your soul. But front and center is a product that makes your heart stop.
“Upload a photo, choose vein pattern, pick warmth settings; experience the exact cock you’ve always dreamed of.”
Your mouth goes dry.
There’s a little heart icon that says “Most Wishlisted Item of the Year”.
You shouldn’t.
You really, really shouldn’t.
But your finger is already over the “Customize Now” button and your thighs are already squeezing together remembering how your own fingers felt pretending they were his.
Ten minutes later you’ve uploaded the clearest photo you have of Caleb—him leaning against the cockpit of his fighter, flight suit half-zipped, smirk sharp enough to cut glass. You pick the length you’ve definitely never measured in your head while hugging him goodbye, the exact girth your dirty imagination has circled back to for years, the upward curve you’ve caught a glimpse of once through his sweatpants and never recovered from.
Veins: raised, prominent, just like the ones on his forearms when he carries your luggage without breaking a sweat. Warmth setting: “always hot, like he just worked out”. Internal texture: “tight but yielding, the way you bet he’d feel if he ever snapped and pinned you down.
The total, with the sketchy discount, is suspiciously low. Delivery: 3–5 days, discreet packaging.
Your finger hovers over “Place Order”. Morals scream. Pussy throbs harder. You hit the button before you can talk yourself out of it.
Order confirmed. You drop the phone like it’s on fire, roll facedown into the pillow, and muffle a scream that’s half horror, half unbearable anticipation.
In three to five days, you’re going to fuck a perfect replica of the cock belonging to the one person you’re never, ever supposed to want.
And you already know you’re going to call it gege while you do.
Five days of checking the mailbox like a lunatic. Five days of that stupid website 404-ing every time you tried to track the order. Five days of punching training dummies with your entire soul while screaming internally about getting scammed out of your last paycheck for a ghost dick.
“FUCK, IT WAS A SCAM!” you snarl, slamming an uppercut into the dummy’s throat so hard the stuffing starts leaking, “WHAT WAS I THINKING!”. Your squadmates give you a wide berth, whispering. Whatever. Let them think you’re unhinged. You are unhinged.
Then your phone buzzes against your hip. Package delivered.
You don’t even wait for the instructor to dismiss you. You just bolt, boots pounding pavement the whole way back, lungs burning, sweat cooling on your neck in the evening air. The second the apartment door slams behind you, you spot the box.
Plain brown. No labels except your name in printed font. You drop to your knees like a woman possessed, nails clawing at tape, ripping cardboard like it owes you money. The lid flies off. And you stop breathing.
Nestled in black satin is the most obscene, perfect, terrifying cock you’ve ever seen.
It’s huge. Stupidly, ridiculously huge. Thick veins snake up the shaft, only these are flushed dark, pulsing faintly with the built-in warming tech. The head is that deep brownish-pink, flared and glistening from whatever hyper-realistic coating they used. Heavy balls hang low, weighted, shifting slightly when you nudge the box.
You don’t remember setting the length slider this high.
You don’t care. Your mouth actually waters.
“Oh wow…” It comes out strangled. You fall back onto your ass, legs splayed, staring at the thing like it might stand up and walk over to you itself. “Oh my god.”
Your pussy clenches so hard you feel it in your throat.
You haven’t even taken your sweaty training gear off and you’re already dripping down your thighs.
You pick it up with both hands—jesus, it’s warm, heavier than expected and the second your fingers close around the shaft it pulses again, like it knows who it belongs to.
Like it’s been waiting for you just as long as you’ve been waiting for him.
You press the thick head against your cheek without thinking, dragging it down to your lips, breathing in the clean, new-silicone scent mixed with whatever insane tech makes it smell faintly like his cologne.
“Fuck, gege…” you whisper against the tip, voice cracking.
The toy throbs in your grip like it heard you.
You have never sprinted to lock your bedroom door faster in your life.You don’t make it to the bed.
The second the lock clicks you’re already peeling off your sweat-soaked clothes, sports bra flung somewhere, shorts kicked aside, panties dragged down your thighs and left dangling off one ankle. The toy is still in your grip, hot against your palm, veins pulsing faintly with the internal heater like it has a heartbeat.
You drop to your knees on the rug, legs spreading wide without shame, back hitting the edge of the mattress. The thick head nudges your lips and you open instantly, greedy, tongue flattening against the underside as you take the first few inches into your mouth. It’s too big; your jaw aches immediately, drool already spilling down your chin, but you force yourself deeper, gagging softly, eyes watering.
You pull off with a wet pop and a broken moan.
“Need you inside me, gege… please—”
You flip onto all fours, ass in the air, face buried in the sheets that still smell like the detergent he used to buy for both of you back home. One hand reaches back, guiding the fat tip through your soaked folds, coating it, teasing your clit until your thighs shake.
Then you push.
The stretch is obscene. Your pussy flutters, resists, then gives all at once. A strangled cry rips out of you as the first half sinks in, thick veins dragging against your walls, that perfect upward curve kissing spots you’ve never reached with your fingers. You claw at the sheets, hips jerking back on instinct, taking more, more, until your ass meets the heavy silicone balls and you’re stuffed so full you can’t breathe.
“F-fuck—Caleb—”
You pull forward until only the head remains, then slam back. The impact makes you scream into the mattress. Again. Harder. Faster. Your tits bounce with every brutal thrust, nipples dragging against the rug, thighs slapping against silicone like they’re slapping against his hips.
You lose count of how many times you fuck yourself on it. You lose language. All that exists is the wet, filthy sound of your cunt swallowing him, the burn in your thighs, the way your clit throbs every time the base grinds against it.
You flip over, legs thrown wide, knees hooked over your elbows so you can watch. Watch the way your pussy lips stretched thin around his cock, watch it disappear inside you again and again, slick coating everything, dripping down your ass, pooling on the floor.
“Look what you do to me, gege,” you sob, voice wrecked. “Look how wet you make me—how empty I am without you—fuck, I’m such a slut for you—”
Your free hand flies to your clit, rubbing frantic circles, and the orgasm barrels into you like a freight train. You squirt, actually squirt, a gush that soaks the toy and your thighs and the rug beneath you. Your walls clamp down so hard the dildo almost slips out, but you shove it deeper, riding the aftershocks, grinding, crying his name like a prayer.
You don’t stop.
You can’t.
You pull it out only long enough to flip the toy around and shove the slick head against your ass, teasing, not quite brave enough yet, but the thought alone makes you come again, smaller this time, a full-body shudder that leaves you gasping.
When you finally collapse, the dildo is still buried to the hilt, your pussy fluttering around it in lazy pulses. You’re trembling, sweaty, ruined. Tears and drool and cum smeared across your face and chest.
You reach down blindly, fingers brushing the base, and give it one last slow thrust just to hear yourself whimper.
“…come home soon, gege,” you whisper to the empty room, voice hoarse. “I don’t think this is gonna be enough anymore.”
The toy stays inside you the rest of the night. You fall asleep clenching around it, dreaming of the real thing finally splitting you open.
—
—
Skyhaven, DAA parade grounds, 18:47 local.
Caleb is standing at parade rest, flight jacket crisp, medals gleaming, trying to look like the perfect poster boy for the Deepspace Aviation Academy while the brass drones on about honor and vigilance. The formation is dead silent except for the wind whipping the flags.
Then it starts.
A faint tingle at the base of his spine. He shifts his weight, ignores it. Probably just nerves.
Gideon elbows him from the left. “Dude, you good? You’re sweating bullets.”
Caleb forces a laugh, teeth clenched. “Yeah, just hot in this jacket.”
The tingle turns into heat. A slow, syrupy, pooling right behind his balls. His cock twitches once, then again, harder, like someone just wrapped a fist around it and squeezed.
He locks his knees to keep from swaying.
The sensation climbs. Something slick and impossibly tight slides down his shaft, inch by inch, swallowing him whole. His breath stutters. The wet spot blooming at the front of his dress pants is impossible to hide now; he angles his body behind the guy in front of him, praying nobody notices.
Another squeeze. A rhythmic drag. Something soft and spongy kissing the tip over and over and over.
His vision whites out for half a second. He breaks formation without permission, muttering a choked “bathroom” to Gideon’s startled face, and bolts.
He barely makes it to the nearest restroom, slamming the lock, back hitting the door as his trembling fingers rip his belt open. The second his cock springs free it’s flushed angry red, leaking like a faucet, veins bulging exactly the way you spent hours customizing.
He doesn’t even touch himself.
He doesn’t have to.
The feeling slams into him again: tight, wet heat clenching around him, riding him hard, fast, merciless. Invisible hips slam down, grind, pull up, slam down again. His balls draw up so tight it hurts.
“F-fuck—!” The moan tears out of him; he slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes rolling back, hips jerking into empty air like he’s fucking someone bent over the sink in front of him.
Every thrust feels real. Too real. He can feel slick walls fluttering, a cervix nudging the head on every brutal stroke, the phantom slap of skin on skin he’s never actually heard but somehow knows by heart.
His knees buckle. He grips the porcelain with white knuckles, forehead pressed to the cool mirror, panting like he’s running a marathon.
“Ah—shit—stop—please—” he doesn’t even know who he’s begging.
The pace only gets rougher.
He comes without warning, a broken cry muffled against his own arm, thick ropes painting the sink, the mirror, his dress shirt. His cock jerks and jerks like it’s being milked by a throat, a pussy, something greedy and possessive and familiar.
The orgasm doesn’t stop. It rolls straight into another, smaller but sharper, and his legs finally give out. He slides down the door until he’s sitting on the cold tile, cock still half-hard, twitching with aftershocks, cum dripping down his fist even though he never stroked himself once.
Chest heaving, he stares at the mess in dazed horror. “What the fuck was that…?”
Three hundred miles away, you’re still sprawled on your bedroom floor, impaled on the toy, whispering his name like a prayer while it throbs inside you.
Neither of you has any idea the link goes both ways. Yet.
Every night for the past ten days it’s the same ritual.
You stumble through the door still in your sweat-drenched hunter uniform, kick off your boots, and don’t even bother with the lights. The second the bedroom door shuts behind you, clothes hit the floor in a frantic trail. You’re already soaked before you even touch the toy, thighs slick, pussy throbbing like it’s been counting the hours until you get home to it.
You keep the dildo in the top drawer now, wrapped in one of Caleb’s old flight academy T-shirts like a dirty little secret. The moment your fingers close around the warm shaft it pulses, eager, like it missed you just as badly.
And three hundred miles away, Caleb starts sweating through whatever he’s doing.
Day 4
You ride it reverse on the desk chair, feet planted wide, rolling your hips slow and deep just to feel every vein drag inside you.
In Skyhaven, Caleb drops an entire tray of coffee in the cadet mess, doubles over the table with a choked gasp, thighs clamping together while his cock leaks helplessly into his boxers. Gideon has to drag him out by the elbow while Caleb stammers something about food poisoning.
Day 6
You’re on your knees in the shower, toy suction-cupped to the tile, slamming back onto it until your ass is red and the water runs cold.
Caleb’s in the middle of a night-flight simulator run. Mid-loop his whole body locks up; he yanks the stick too hard, fails the exercise, and spends ten minutes curled in the cockpit seat coming untouched while the instructor screams over the headset.
Day 8
You can’t wait anymore the second you get home. You don’t even make it to the bedroom. You drop onto the hallway floor, legs over your head, fucking yourself with both holes now—the replica so slick from your pussy it slides into your ass easy. You scream his name until your voice cracks.
Caleb’s in the barracks laundry room folding clothes. One second he’s fine, the next he’s on the floor, biting his own forearm to stay quiet while his cock jerks and feels violated by invisible forces. He comes so hard his vision blacks out. When he can move again he finds the crotch of his pants soaked front and back and has no explanation.
Day 10
You’re greedy. You strap the toy to a pillow, mount it like you’re riding him for real, hands braced on the headboard, hips snapping down so hard the bedframe slams the wall in rhythm.
“Gege—fuck—harder—please, I need—”
You sob it into the dark, tears streaking your cheeks, pussy gushing all over the silicone balls.
In Skyhaven, Caleb is supposed to be asleep. Instead he jerks awake in his bunk with a wounded sound, sheets twisted around his hips, cock so hard it hurts. The sensation hits like a punch: tight, wet heat swallowing him to the root, grinding, milking. Something inside him —his ass—clenches around nothing and everything at once. He shoves his face into his pillow and comes instantly, whole body convulsing, biting down so hard he tastes blood.
When it finally fades he’s shaking, drenched in sweat, heart hammering like he just ran ten miles.
He drags a trembling hand down his stomach and finds his cock still-hard cock slick with his own release and something else—slicker, warmer, smelling faintly smelling like you.
For the first time, real fear cuts through the haze. Because whatever is doing this to him isn’t random. And it’s getting stronger every night.
Caleb hasn’t slept properly in twelve days. Every night the “ghost” comes back. Every night it rides him harder, tighter, wetter, like it’s learning exactly how to unravel him.
He’s stopped trying to fight it. He just locks his door, shoves his face into his pillow, and lets the phantom cunt milk him dry while his cock leaks and his ass clenches around nothing and his brain short-circuits with the same voice that’s haunted him since puberty.
Your voice.
He’s started jerking off to the memory of it in the showers, biting his own fist so his bunkmates don’t hear him whimpering “pipsqueak” like a prayer.
He’s losing his fucking mind.
So when he’s alone in the dorm common room at 0300, half delirious, cock still half-hard from another unsolicited orgasm, he does the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his life.
He googles the symptoms.
Ends up on the same neon-pink, virus-looking website you found weeks ago.
The banner screams: FEEL LIKE SOMEONE YOU LOVE — NOW WITH REVERSE SYNC!
He doesn’t read the fine print. He’s too tired, too desperate, too turned on.
He uploads the clearest photo he has of you—last summer, you in that sundress, laughing at something he said, hair sticking to your sweaty neck.
He customizes everything with shaking hands,outer lips soft and plump, exactly the way he’s imagined a thousand times when you walked around the house in tiny sleep shorts. Inner walls textured like crushed velvet, tight at the entrance, then fluttering deeper. Clit hood pronounced, sensitive node swollen —because he’s spent years pretending he doesn’t notice how you squirm when he hugs you too long enough. Warmth setting: “always soaked, like she’s been thinking about you all day.” Scent module: the exact peach-and-vanilla body wash you’ve used since you were fifteen.
He pays triple for overnight shipping. The box arrives two days later while the entire barracks is out on a weekend training hike. Caleb locks himself in his room, heart hammering like a jet engine.
He tears the packaging open with his teeth. Inside, nestled in black satin, is the prettiest pocket pussy he’s ever seen.
Soft, dusky outer lips, flushed pink inside, already glistening with the self-lubricating gel. It’s warm to the touch, pulsing faintly like it’s breathing.
He exhales a broken “fuck… so pretty…” and runs two fingers down the seam, parting the lips gently. The toy quivers. A bead of lube rolls out like it’s already wet for him.
He doesn’t make it to the bed.
He drops into his desk chair, sweatpants shoved down to his hips, cock springing out thick and flushed and already dripping. He drags the head through the slick folds once, twice, coating himself, groaning at how realistic it feels.
Then he pushes in.
The sound that rips out of him is inhuman.
Tight, hot, velvet walls clamp down instantly, sucking him deeper like they’ve been waiting years. The inner texture ripples around his shaft exactly the way he’s fantasized your pussy would—fluttering, squeezing, dragging over every vein.
He bottoms out in one brutal thrust and his vision whites out.
“Fuck—pipsqueak—” he chokes, hips jerking helplessly. “Is this how you’re supposed to feel? So good—so fucking real—”
He starts slow, savoring it, pulling out until just the tip kisses the entrance, then sliding back in with a wet squelch that makes his balls draw up tight. The toy makes obscene sounds—soft, wet, exactly like a real cunt taking cock—and every noise goes straight to his spine.
He loses control fast.
Hands gripping the desk, he starts pounding into it like he hates it, like he loves it, hips snapping hard enough to rattle the chair. The pocket pussy sucks him back in on every stroke, walls fluttering wildly, clit hood bumping his pelvis on the downstroke.
“Take it—just like that—fuck, you’re so tight for me—”
He doesn’t notice the way the toy seems to clench harder when he says your nickname. Doesn’t notice the way it gushes fresh slick every time he groans “good girl” under his breath.
Three hundred miles away, you’re in the middle of a lecture at the Hunter Academy when your body suddenly locks up. A phantom cock—thick, burning hot, veiny—slides into you from nowhere. Your pen clatters to the desk. You slap both hands over your mouth to stifle a scream as invisible hips slam forward and bury something huge to the hilt inside you.
Your pussy spasms around empty air. Your clit throbs like someone’s grinding against it. Your chair creaks as your thighs snap together, trying to trap the sensation that isn’t there and is there all at once.
The “ghost” fucks you right there in the lecture hall, in front of thirty other cadets, relentless and deep and merciless.
You cum biting your own wrist so hard you leave teeth marks, tears streaming down your face, soaking through your panties and the seat beneath you while the professor drones on about wanderer migration patterns.
Back in Skyhaven, Caleb’s losing his mind in a different way.
He’s hunched over the desk now, one hand braced, the other brutally fucking the toy up and down his cock, chasing the edge.
“Gonna—fuck—gonna fill you up, pipsqueak—take every drop—”
He comes with a guttural shout, hips stuttering, cock pulsing so hard the toy overflows. Thick ropes of cum spill out around his shaft, dripping down the silicone lips, painting his fist, the desk, his thighs.
The pocket pussy keeps milking him through it, walls fluttering like it’s trying to drain him completely.
He slumps forward, forehead pressed to the cool wood, panting like he’s run a marathon.
The toy gives one last gentle squeeze… almost affectionate.
And somewhere far away, you’re curled in the academy bathroom stall, legs shaking, pussy still twitching with aftershocks, a flood of cum you didn’t make leaking out of you in thick, warm pulses.
You both whisper the same thing at the exact same second, voices hoarse and wrecked and terrified,“What the fuck is happening to me?”
—
—
The entire summer break is a slow-motion torture.
You arrive at Bloomshore first, two hours early because the Academy let out sooner than DAA. Grandma hugs you so hard your ribs creak, pinches your cheeks, stuffs you full of peach cobbler and gossip. The childhood house smells exactly the same: sun-warmed wood, sea-salt breeze, the faint lavender sachets she still keeps in every drawer. Your old bedroom is untouched, posters curling at the corners, the same twin bed you used to share with Caleb when thunderstorms scared you.
You dump your suitcase, unzip it, and there it is: the dildo, wrapped in one of his old flight-school hoodies like contraband. It’s been two days since you last used it and your body is already twitching, thighs pressing together every time you remember how it feels.
You shove it under the mattress and try to be normal. Then the front door opens downstairs and you hear his voice.
“Gran squeals, “Caleb, my handsome boy!”
You freeze halfway down the stairs.
He’s… bigger. Shoulders filling the doorway, hair longer and tousled from the wind, sunglasses hooked in the collar of a white T-shirt that clings to his chest. He’s grinning at Gran, but the same crooked smile that’s been haunting your wet dreams for months.
Then his eyes flick up and find you. “Hey, pipsqueak… and Gran.”
Your stomach flips so violently you almost trip on the last step. You launch yourself at him anyway, because that’s what you’ve always done. He catches you mid-jump like you weigh nothing, arms banding around your waist, laughing low in his chest as you collide.
“Yup, gege’s here. How’s my meimei doing in Linkon, hm?”
The second his palm settles on the back of your head, petting like when you were kids, every filthy memory slams into you at once—the toy stretching you open, the way you sobbed his name into your pillow, the phantom cum that leaked out of you for days afterward.
Your face ignites. You feel the heat of his body through his shirt, the flex of his biceps as he holds you, the faint cedar-and-jet-fuel scent that is just him. You jerk away like you’ve been electrocuted.
“Huh… me? …oh… uh… good! I’m doing… good!!!”
Your voice cracks on every syllable. You practically sprint past him, suitcase banging against your leg, and disappear into your room so fast you almost take out the coat rack.
Caleb stands there frozen, arms still half-raised, cheeks flushed crimson for reasons he refuses to examine.
Gran raises an eyebrow. “You two are acting mighty strange.”
He clears his throat, grabs his own duffel, and mutters something about needing a shower.
That night neither of you comes down for dinner.
You lie in your childhood bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars you stuck on the ceiling together when you were ten, thighs clenched so tight they ache. You can hear him moving around in the room next door, the creak of his old mattress, the low thud of his bag hitting the floor.
You wonder if he brought it too. You wonder if he’s touching it right now. Across the wall, Caleb is wondering the exact same thing about you.
Both toys are hidden under respective mattresses, pulsing faintly like they know they’re finally under the same roof as their match.
The air-conditioner rattles. Crickets hum outside. The house is asleep.
Neither of you sleeps a wink. And somewhere in the dark, two identical warming circuits kick on at the exact same moment, waiting for someone to break first.
The first night back home, the dam breaks at 2:17 AM.
You’ve been tossing in your childhood bed for hours, sheets tangled around your ankles, thighs slick and aching from the constant low thrum of need that started the second you heard his laugh downstairs. The house is silent except for the distant crash of waves on Bloomshore’s cliffs and the faint creak of floorboards in the next room.
He’s right there.
Walls so thin you can hear him breathing if you press your ear to the plaster.
And under your mattress, the toy waits, warm and heavy and calling to you like a siren.
You give in with a muffled curse, fishing it out, fingers trembling as you drag it between your legs. No prep. No teasing. You’re already dripping, have been since that hug, so you just line up the fat head and sink down in one brutal slide.
The stretch is immediate and vicious, your pussy clenching around silicone veins like it’s starving. You bite your pillow to stifle the moan, hips rocking slow at first, savoring the drag, the way it kisses your cervix on every grind.
In the next room, Caleb jolts awake with a strangled gasp.
His cock—already half-hard from dreams of you—suddenly feels like it’s being strangled in velvet. Tighter than ever. Hotter. Wetter. The phantom walls clamp down so hard his vision spots, every ridge and flutter magnified tenfold, like whatever’s fucking him is twice as desperate tonight.
He scrambles for his duffel under the bed, yanking out the pocket pussy with shaking hands. No way he’s enduring this alone. He shoves his boxers down, spits into the toy’s slick entrance, and thrusts in without mercy.
The second he bottoms out, you scream into your sheets.
It’s like a second cock slams into you alongside the first—thicker, hotter, splitting you open from the inside. Your walls flutter wildly, stretched beyond reason, the dual sensations overlapping in a filthy symphony: the toy’s familiar curve grinding one spot while the phantom one drags against another, both pounding in perfect sync.
“F-fuck—gege—what—” you whimper, confused and wrecked, hips jerking up to meet nothing and everything. Your clit throbs like it’s being sucked, your ass clenches around air that feels full. You shove the dildo deeper, faster, chasing the burn, tears leaking down your cheeks as your body tries to process being double-fucked by ghosts.
Caleb’s teeth sink into his own bicep to keep from roaring loud enough to wake Grandma.
The toy is a vice. His cock feels like it’s being crushed in the best way—walls so tight they might snap him in half, rippling and milking with every brutal thrust. It’s wetter than before, slick gushing out around his shaft like the thing is coming alive, and every time he pulls back it sucks him in harder, deeper, the inner texture fluttering like a heartbeat.
“Pipsqueak—shit—too tight—gonna break me—” he growls through clenched teeth, one hand braced on the headboard, the other fucking the toy up and down his length so fast his arm burns. His balls slap against silicone with every snap, heavy and aching, the pressure building so intense he’s terrified he’ll black out.
You both lose track of time, separated by one flimsy wall, fucking your toys in frantic rhythm without knowing you’re fucking each other.
For you, it’s endless—the dildo splitting your pussy while the invisible cock mirrors every move, stretching you to your limits, making you gush so hard the sheets are soaked beneath your ass. You come once with a muffled sob, clenching around both, but it doesn’t stop—the sensations only amp up, phantom veins dragging inside you, a second head nudging spots that make your toes curl.
“More—gege, please—fill me up—” you beg the dark, fingers flying to your clit, rubbing frantic circles while you slam the toy home again and again.
Caleb hears something—a faint, wrecked whine through the wall—and it snaps his last thread.
He flips onto his back, legs spread wide, and fucks into the pocket pussy like a man possessed. The tightness is agonizing now, walls constricting so hard around his cock he swears it’s going to cut off circulation—hot, pulsing, fluttering like it’s alive and greedy and his. Every thrust sends sparks up his spine; his free hand claws at the sheets, hips bucking off the mattress.
“Take it—fuck, just like that—my good girl—” he rasps, voice hoarse, imagining your face, your body, the way you’d look split open on him for real.
The orgasm hits you both at the same instant.
You arch off the bed with a silent scream, pussy spasming around double fullness, squirting in thick arcs that drench your thighs and the toy. The phantom cum floods you—hot, thick, endless—leaking out around the dildo, pooling between your legs, making everything slicker, messier.
Caleb comes with a guttural “fuck—pipsqueak—” bitten off against his fist, cock jerking so hard the toy overflows instantly. Cum spills everywhere—his stomach, the sheets, the silicone lips stretched thin around him—but the walls keep milking, squeezing tighter than humanly possible, wringing every drop until his balls ache and his vision tunnels.
You both collapse in sweaty, trembling heaps, toys still buried deep, aftershocks rippling through you like shared electricity.
The wall between your rooms might as well not exist.
But neither of you moves. Neither knocks. Neither dares whisper the truth.
Instead, you pull the covers over your ruined body, the dildo still twitching faintly inside you, and pretend your heart isn’t pounding loud enough for him to hear.
Next door, Caleb does the exact same, cock softening in the vice-grip of the toy, a single thought looping in his wrecked mind,
Synopsis: The day you befriended the boy with the purple eyes, his obsession began
Word Count: +13K
Warnings: +18 mdni, 1930s setting, most likely inaccurate era descriptions, servant boy!Caleb, yandere!Caleb, jealous Caleb, manipulative Caleb, disabled heiress!reader, reader has a limp, reader uses a cane, descriptions of wounds/scars, minor character death, ableism, car crash, dubcon, somnophilia?, panty kink, insecure!reader, doctor!Zayne, physical therapist!Zayne (he’s a jack of all trades), nicknames (pips, honey, precious girl), body worship, oral (fem receiving), fingering, anal mention, use of mirror during fun time, innocent!reader, inexperienced!reader, manhandling, size difference, innocence kink, medical talk, medication use, slight choking, spiting/drooling, lemme know if I missed anything (Not as unhinged as I wanted him to be but oh well)
As the grandson of the estate manager, Caleb held special privileges that the others could only dream of. He was allowed to enter and leave as his heart desired, but he never strayed too far as you were the only thing keeping him there to begin with. He could never leave you behind. With your estimated arrival only a few hours away, he made his way through the large house that had been devoid of life since the day of the accident.
The manor was buzzing with life for the first time in a while. With the fine china pulled out from the locked cabinets, the familiar clinking sound echoed as they were carried out into the garden. The maids' skirts and the butlers' coattails swished behind them as they rushed through the halls. Caterers carrying finger foods and decadent pastries were led out back to the grand table with an ice sculpture of an angel stood in the middle of it stood.
Caleb refrained from rolling his eyes at the cherub holding a bow. Had they really been crafting it with the design of an ethereal being, they should’ve carved it to your likeness. To be fair, it wouldn’t compare to the painting of you that hung in your father’s den.
Oh, how he wished he could steal it and hang it in his room for only him to see. The closest thing he had to that painting was what he had managed to cut out from the newspaper. The day after the accident, a photo of you and your mother was plastered right in the middle.
LADY LINKON DEAD AND DAUGHTER WOUNDED AFTER CAR VEERS OFF THE ROAD
With frayed edges and wrinkles from having it pressed against his chest, he resorted to hiding it between the pages of a book. It remained under his pillow so that he could look at it every night before going to bed. In black and white, there you were with your sweet smile and sparkling eyes.
Today, he wouldn’t have to rely on a piece of paper to lull him to sleep. He’d have the real thing sleeping a floor away. If he timed it right, he’d be able to sneak into your room like he has done so many nights before. You’d welcome him with open arms, smiling to yourself as he rocked you to sleep. After the death of your mother, he knew you’d be searching for a familiar to provide you comfort.
Ever since the day in the garden where you two met, he had never left your side. He was a prominent figure in your life, always there when you needed him. The day of the accident was the first time he wasn’t beside you. He couldn’t. The car veering off the road may be an accident in your eyes, but to him, it was what needed to happen to keep you with him. You had hoped to leave the estate, wanting nothing more than to travel across Europe.
It was too bad your plane ticket had to go to waste.
There was a rumble in the sky and a quick flash in the sky. Caleb frowned as he recalled the newspaper projecting a clear day ahead. He was quick to offer help, working with the others to put up a large canopy that had been stored in the basement. They were unfazed, the drizzle doing nothing to deter them.
Caleb cursed the gods as they dared to try to ruin your welcome home party. You had been gone for a couple of months, held up in the hospital as you recovered, and he was going to make sure this celebration went off without a hitch. You deserved nothing but the absolute best.
“Caleb, do you mind bringing the space heaters while we finish up here? If the wind picks up, we’re going to need it to stay not only warm, but dry.”
He was like a soldier following orders. Swift and efficient, he brought them out from the basement. Not even the dusty, heavy metal he carried could slow him for the warm feeling in his chest fueled him. His reason for living was only a few miles away. Had he not wanted to secretly supervise the setup for your celebration, he would’ve offered to pick you up at the hospital himself.
He paid no mind to the guest as they slowly arrived at the estate. His mind was preoccupied with angling the heater to the seat you’d be occupying, as he knew you were sensitive to the cold, unbothered that some guest would be exposed to the breeze. If they were dumb enough to forget their coats after seeing the grey skies, they’d have to deal with the consequences of their actions.
Glancing around the spacious garden, he frowned. The space wasn’t as well-lit as he’d like it to be. The shadows that would be cast along your face would do nothing but hinder your beauty. If he could, he’d have a spotlight following you around.
‘Don’t be silly. Should other men see how radiant she is, they’ll steal her away from you.’ The voice in his head whispered, the grating voice causing him to clutch his head.
Unfortunately, the voice was right. He would be getting you back after being apart, anything that could hinder the two of you being together needed to be dealt with. Your mother, who didn’t approve of your friendship with the employee's grandson, was the first piece that had to go for she was the one who planted the idea of traveling across Europe in your mind. With her buried six feet below ground, there was no one to keep festering you with such an obnoxious thought. Had she not thought of all the dangers she’d be exposing you to as you went to an unknown country by yourself?
The accident you went through was a blessing in disguise.
“-do you think she’ll like more?”
Caleb was pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of his grandmother’s voice. She held two crystal vases; one that resembled a trumpet and the other a cylinder. He didn’t need to hear what she had said to him to understand what she was asking. The cylinder-shaped one would take up too much space on the table and would need an excessive amount of flowers to fill. He couldn’t have your allergies acting up.
“The trumpet-looking one is nice. The young lady of the house would appreciate the intricate designs cut into the glass.”
Every choice he made revolved around you. This day was for and about you. You’d be returning to him after being away for so long. Though the water falling from the sky said otherwise, his day would be filled with a familiar warmth and a shining sun that looked like you.
“Excellent choice. This will surely brighten up her day, especially after all that time in the hospital.”
Caleb made sure to give everything a once-over, straightening out crooked centerpieces and polishing any silverware that held the smallest water stain. Pleased with how the setup turned out, he let out a sigh of relief.
His angel was coming home. She was coming back to him. After being parted, he agreed with the saying “distance makes the heart grow fonder”.
He needed to get ready. All this running around had his white blouse wrinkled and covered in dust. You could arrive any second and he’d be caught looking a mess. He needed to look his best as you always complimented him on how handsome he looked when his hair was pushed back and he was dressed to the nines.
He was sure he had broken some record for taking the fastest shower in all of history. When his hair was dry enough, he warmed a bit of pomade in his hands and proceeded to style the strand in a way you’d find acceptable. His usual bangs that tended to brush against his eyelashes were styled to show off his forehead, allowing his attractive face to be on display.
Girls would flock over to him, giggling as they got lost in his pretty, purple eyes only to be brushed off much like a piece of lint on one’s shoulder.
The metal springs of his bed creaked under his weight as he sat on the edge. He reached for the book under his pillow, pulling out the newspaper clipping he had cut out. A smile broke out on his face as yours came into view. Though he treasures the piece of paper, it couldn’t compare to having the real thing. His twisted mind was far away as he fantasized about the two of you hidden away from everyone, leaving this grand estate for a smaller home. Though smaller in size, you wouldn’t lack anything as he’d provide for you.
His heart warmed, an image of you barefoot and pregnant flashing through his mind. The thought of you carrying his child stirred the beast he kept hidden behind courteous smiles and gentle caresses. He was sure you’d make the loveliest sounds as his tongue slithered its way into tasting what lay between your thighs before he split you open on his cock, pushing his seed deep into your womb.
As his nose tingled, longing for your scent, he put everything back into place and locked the door as he stepped out into the hall. He needed to slink his way up to your room, thankfully the stairs designed for the help offered him a quick passageway to your quarters.
The hinges that once squeaked when the door was pushed open, moved smoothly thanks to Caleb oiling up the metal. He was instantly hit with the scent of your perfume. He took a deep breath as he walked around your room. The curtains were pulled together which was unusual as you preferred when the sunlight spilled into your room.
Your sheets that once smelled the most like you had been replaced alongside the four-poster bed. Your father had a daybed crafted from imported dark-stained wood. He didn’t go into much detail about the change, only stating that it would make things easier for you once you returned from the hospital.
Fingers digging into the round decorative pillow, Caleb smothered his face with the tufted velvet material imagining it was your soft stomach he was nuzzling up against. It lacked the warmth you radiated though.
Gently settling the pillow into its spot, he made his way over to the windows, tying the curtains back to allow the natural light to illuminate your space. He looked out the streak-free glass, a bored expression on his face as he watched the guest move about like ants. Worthless and insignificant, they were only there to irritate him.
The gates that led up the long driveway opened and a familiar car made its way up to the house.
You were here.
Caleb made sure nothing was out of place before shutting the door behind him and running down the stairs. He made sure to appear as normal as possible, controlling his breathing and smoothing his hair into place as he met up with the rest of the staff, standing beside his grandmother to greet you.
The car came to a smooth stop as did Caleb’s heartbeat as he saw you through the car window. Though you were coming from the hospital, you looked as beautiful as always, but your once bright face held a sad expression. Your father leaned over to say something to you as the driver got out and made his way over to your side, opening the door.
Taking the hand offered to you, you moved to step out of the car. Before your kitten heels met the ground, a wooden cane with a metal tip made contact with the gravel. A stillness fell over the staff, smiles faltering at the corners as they noticed the limp of your right leg.
Caleb’s grandmother was the first to step up, offering you a sympathetic smile and a welcoming hug which you responded to just like you always did. You felt how she clung to you, her fingers digging into your flesh as a sign of relief from the older woman.
“It’s so nice to have you back, young miss. The estate lacked your warmth and presence.”
Your smile was stiff, a grimace on your face as you shifted the weight on your injured leg. All your effort went into hiding your limp, but your strength only went so far. Weeks of rest in a stiff hospital bed offered little comfort. You wanted nothing more than to lock yourself behind your bedroom door, but the chatter coming from behind the estate was a telltale sign that you’d be expected to greet everyone who had come to see you.
“Thank you all for such a warm welcome. It’s nice to see familiar faces after so long.”
The staff bowed at the waist.
As your father signaled for you to take his arm and make your way into the house, you felt how everyone’s eyes burned into your bandaged leg. The length of your mermaid-styled skirt did little to hide your newfound flaw. The thud made by your cane meeting the rug-covered wooden floor seemed extra loud in the quiet home. When the voices of the visitors grew, as did the grip on the metal handle of your walking stick. Your father felt the stiffness in your body, his free hand coming to pat your hand.
“Bear it for just a short while, my sweet. Fill your belly, entertain the guest with the smallest amount of talk you can conjure, and when the time is right, sneak your way into your room to rest. I’ll be sure to send one of the maids to help you get to bed.”
As usual, you did as you were told. Thanking those who went up to you, you took the first chance you saw to have a seat, a sigh of relief left you when you straightened out your leg, your cane making an obnoxiously loud thunk as you laid it against the edge of the table. You took one of the folded napkins and used it to dab at the layer of sweat that had formed on your brow.
You weren’t accustomed to the amount of energy you now had to exert.
Caleb watched as you mingled with the visitors, brushing off their words of condolences with a sweet smile, quickly returning to picking at your plate. One would have thought that after eating hospital food for weeks on end, you would be eager to fill up on your favorite appetizers. It didn’t get past him how you massaged your stiff leg, a scowl flashing across your face as your thumb dug into a particularly sensitive tendon.
The party had been at full swing for some time now, offering your father a smile, he sent you a wink before proceeding to “accidentally” bump into the table, the force causing the floral arrangement to tip over. The tipsy party-goers snickered and giggled, an uproar providing you with a getaway.
As quickly as you could, you excused yourself from the guest around you, their attention occupied with your father who cracked a joke about not being able to handle his liquor. You failed to notice the male who followed your steps, the rug softening the clicks of his polished shoes. His eyes stayed trained on you as you shakily made your way up the stairs. When you reached the top, you had to stop, catching your breath for the briefest moment before heading towards your room.
Caleb was quick to run in the opposite direction, using the servants' stairs to bump into you. With the athleticism you lacked, he was able to appear as if he was merely making his rounds throughout the house, his hair smoothed into place and clothes wrinkle-free.
Your attention had been on your feet, watching how your right leg lacked the strength of your left. You were trying to walk without the support of your cane, unaware of the person you were about to bump into. Just as your leg gave out, you cried out as you fell, arms reaching out to catch yourself.
Instead, you found yourself in the arms of your childhood friend.
“You’re like a baby deer learning how to walk again.” Caleb tried to joke. You normally would laugh at anything he said, this time he was met with silence. He cleared his throat as he helped you back onto your feet. “It’s good to have you back, honey.”
As you made eye contact, he saw the sadness there, unshed tears sparkling under the dim light. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth and your fingers tightened around the handle of your walking stick. You took a deep breath.
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t make any jokes that revolve around walking.”
The smile he wore faded, his fingers itching to tug at his hair in frustration.
‘Damn fool.’ He thought. It wasn’t his intention to mock you, but how else were you supposed to take it as he joked about your new insecurity?
Though people smiled and offered their sympathy, you knew that news of your limp would spread like wildfire. It would replace the talk of your mother’s passing. People will talk, snickering behind their hands as you pass them by.
“I’m sorry. I meant no offense, just thought a laugh would do you some good.”
You gave him a stiff nod before walking around him and towards your bedroom door.
Gone was the awfully chipper lady of the house. Instead, a closed-off individual was wearing your skin. Your clothes that used to be colorfully vibrant had been replaced with dim, neutral shades. The light you radiated was nowhere to be found.
You didn’t spare him a glance as you walked into your room and shut the door behind you.
He didn’t move from where he stood until the sound of someone rounding the corner caught his attention. It was one of the newer maids, a stack of towels in her hands.
“Caleb, what’re you doing here? You should be downstairs enjoying the party.”
“I could say the same for you.” He didn’t miss the way her cheeks turned a deep shade of red as he smiled at her. “The young miss asked me to help her get ready for bed. Said she was tucking in early for the day.”
The confused look on her face irritated him. Who was she to question him?
“Oh, Master Linkon ordered me to help her…”
Caleb nonchalantly waved.
“Not to worry. Miss Linkon personally asked me to take over. Here,” He took the towels from her, ignoring her sounds of protest. “If anyone should ask, I won't say a thing. Instead, join the others in the kitchen. They’re having their fill of expensive champagne and delicious leftovers. I would go before the others sneak off with what’s left.”
Her steps were hesitant, but she listened to the male.
He waited until he was left alone, the maid’s steps no longer able to be heard before knocking on your door. He called your name, only to be met with a quiet stillness. He tried a few more times and received the same response.
Slowly, he pushed the door open, his eyes looking for you from one corner to the next. The slightly ajar door leading to the bathroom allowed the light to spill out, illuminating the space with a soft glow. He softly shut the door, avoiding the stream of light to remain in the shadows.
From where he stood, he watched as you sat on the layer of tile surrounding the drop-in tub. Your cane was resting off to the side against a stool kept for the maids when they helped you bathe. The clothes you wore lay abandoned on the porcelain floor, the silk slip you wore underneath being the only thing protecting you from the male’s burning eyes.
The scar and limp would forever be an ugly reminder. Every time you glanced at you, you were reminded of your mother and the fact that she was no longer with you. You were reminded of the constant pain you were in; physically and emotionally. You knew you should be grateful that you got to see another day, but that didn’t mean you were allowed moments of anger and frustration moving forward.
You were massaging your leg over the thick gauze, your bottom lip between your teeth to keep your cries from echoing against the walls. When you began to unwrap the bandage, you could no longer keep your sobs quiet. Your tears fell as you took in the scarred flesh, the subtle signs of the fact that sutures had been used to close the cut that had severed meat, tendons, and nerves.
Nevertheless, you were no less of a woman in Caleb’s eyes. Perhaps, the other males who had wished to court you would be put off by the sight, but not him. He couldn’t consider them men if they flinched at an ordinary cicatrix. The scar was now part of you, and he would cherish it just as much as the rest of your unblemished skin.
You just needed to give him the chance to worship you. He would show you just how desirable you were, wounded and all.
As you hadn’t been prepared beforehand, you tried your best to do it yourself. Multiple times, you had to catch yourself as you stumbled, resorting to doing everything while sitting on the edge of the tub. Just as you were about about remove your slip, a knock on the door startled you.
“Didn’t mean to scare you, pips, but grandma ordered me to help you move about. She said it would do you well to rest your leg.”
Your hand tugged at the hem of the silk, covering as much of your scar as you could. Caleb pretended not to notice, shuffling about and adjusting the water to the temperature you preferred.
“Shouldn’t a maid be the one to help me?” You whispered, avoiding his gaze. “Besides, I can do it myself.”
“You shouldn’t have to. God forbid you slip and fall, I don’t think a singular maid would be able to carry you if needed.”
You never realized how stubborn he was until now.
Tucking your face against your shoulder, you were thankful your hair acted as a curtain, shielding your broken expression from your childhood friend. You didn’t want him to see you like this. Not only was this fairly indecent of you, half-dressed with a male accompanying you, but keeping him from seeing your scar would be damn near impossible as he scrubbed you down.
“Caleb,” Your voice was a shaky whisper, fingers curling over the edge of the tile. “I appreciate your help. I truly do, but I would like to bathe myself…please.”
He swore he could hear his heart shattering into a bunch of tiny pieces at your tone.
You were ashamed. The girl who used to dance with him in the rain and run through the sprinklers had been replaced. For once in his life, he detected shame overcome your body.
If he planned on keeping you close, he would have to give you space when asked.
“Can I at least help you to bed? You must be tired after everything.”
You cleared your nose with a sniffle, giving him only a small nod.
“I’ll make your bed in the meantime.”
Once the door shut softly behind him, only then did you fully undress and submerge yourself under the hot water. Bubbles rose to the surface as air escaped through your nose, the temperature causing your scab to burn. You stayed under the water for a few seconds longer before coming up and quickly washing yourself.
Pulling the plug, you watched as the water went down the drain, shivering as your body was gradually exposed to the cool air.
You went to push yourself into a standing position, only for your right leg to give out, your knees thumping against the porcelain. Your eyes burned, unshed tears of humiliation and frustration after multiple attempts. The sharp pain slowly thrumming up your leg was far stronger than the strength in your tired limbs.
He had been right. A maid wouldn’t be able to help you out, she would need you to use some force to get good leverage to haul you up.
Wrapping yourself in a large, fluffy towel and sparing the closed door a look, you weighed out your options. Stay quiet until Caleb checks in on you or ignore your pride and vanity, and ask him to help you. You went with the latter, covering your leg before he could lay his eyes on it.
“Caleb?”
He must have expected your call as he responded right away. You didn’t know it, but he had been waiting right outside the door, forehead resting on the wood as he imagined wiping you down, his hand slowly making its way under the water and in-between your legs.
“Can you help-help me? My leg…My leg isn’t cooperating very well. I managed to cover myself, so you don’t have to w-worry about that.”
The first thing he saw as he stepped into the muggy room, was your sad eyes looking at him over the bathtub rim. A part of him wanted to comfort you, lick your wounds, and wipe away your tears the way an animal would, but the sick part of him rejoiced. You were a pitiful little thing who needed his help.
“Can you help me out…please?”
He lifted you out of the tub with ease, your hand clasping the front of the towel to preserve some form of modesty, and the spare one wrapped around his broad shoulders. Instinctively, you tucked your head under his chin and he had to use all the willpower in his body to keep from nuzzling your damp hair.
The comforter had been pulled back, pillows arranged just the way you liked them and a nightgown had been set off to the side, along with some panties which had your cheeks burning.
“I’ll clean up the bathroom while you get dressed.”
Perched on the edge of the bed, you dressed quickly. You were grateful Caleb had picked a floor-length nightgown. You would remember to toss out all the short ones tomorrow.
“You done, pips?”
You hummed in response.
“Come, let’s dry your hair.”
He carried you over to the vanity, the image of you in the mirror minuscule as he towered behind you. Working gently, he ran the brush through your hair.
“You don’t know how much we missed you…” Looking at him through the mirror, you noticed the sad look in his eyes. “When I heard of the accident, I couldn’t help but think the worst. I wanted to visit you while you were in the hospital, but I know rest is detrimental for recovery so I waited until you came home.”
You gave him a soft smile.
“It’s nice to hear I was missed and I’m glad to be back.”
He didn’t seem satisfied with your answer which caused you to shift awkwardly in your seat. He was waiting for you to say you missed him too.
“Don’t think I didn’t miss you too. I couldn’t wait to be back and fix the garden up with you. Though, things may prove a little bit more difficult now since I can’t bend my leg for too long.”
“We’ll find a way, don’t you worry about that. Nothing can come between us!”
He was awfully optimistic. Why wouldn’t he be? He was fully functional, not impaired by something you had no control over. In the eyes of everyone around you, he was in his prime and perfect marriage material and poor little you would end up with a husband who pitied your situation or was after your inheritance.
But Caleb wouldn’t allow it.
Now more than ever, you were going to need him. To you, your limp would be a hindrance, but to him, this was only another reason for you to rely on him for the rest of your life.
Anyone who tried to come between you would meet the same fate as your mother.
—
You weren’t sure how long it had been since you returned from the hospital as your days seemed to mesh into one another, a continuous cycle of waking up, finding something new in your day-to-day life that was affected by your limp, going to sleep, and repeating.
It was no surprise how supportive the staff was. Adored by those who worked there, they tried their best to provide you with a sense of normalcy, but while hidden behind walls or merely overhearing by accident, you heard their hushed words. They pitied you. The poor, young lady of the estate had lost her mother and returned home damaged and bruised.
Small changes were made to your home to try to make your life as easy and as comfortable as it could be. Any hard floor that could be covered had a plush carpet placed over it, the spongy texture providing cushion in case you lost your balance and fell. Polished rails were placed on the walls for you to hold onto, the design of them cohesive with the decorations already placed.
The biggest one was the replacement of your old four-poster bed with a daybed. Your old one was too big and would have made it difficult for you to climb off of it with ease. The daybed was handy as you didn’t have to climb onto it to settle down and at night if you had to grab a glass of water or go to the bathroom, you would only have to swing your legs to the side to get up.
It was expected, of course. It was human nature to pity those who were wounded and in pain. It was natural to pity those who were different. Especially when these differences were caused by an uncontrollable factor.
You tried to live your life like before; attending tea parties, visiting the boutiques in town, and mingling with those with a similar social status as yourself.
Your father had decided it would be best to be the one to host official gatherings as they would take place in your home. He believed this was a better alternative as it allowed you to stay in what had become your safe space. You were grateful for his effort, but most of the time, you wished to lock yourself in your bedroom, away from the chatter and music.
You couldn’t stand for too long, nor could you tolerate sitting for hours on end. Whenever you tried to walk around, welcoming those who stopped you, you would grow tired, your leg begging for all the weight to be taken off of it. If you tried to enjoy your meal surrounded by familiar faces, you’d have to constantly straighten out and bend your scarred limb.
The kitten heels you once adored and had a large collection of, had you wishing for some flats within a couple of hours of being worn. Each step had a sharp pain shooting up from your ankle to your thigh.
You weren’t much of a dancer. Before when asked to join a handsome stranger out on the ballroom floor, you would shyly reject them, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you pictured yourself stepping on their toes. Now, you stared out into the swaying figures, eyes filled with eagerness and unfulfillment. You should’ve partaken in the festivities when you had the chance.
Excusing yourself, you made your way out into the garden, settling in a hidden nook you found yourself coming to more and more every day. It allowed you a space where you could turn off the voices in your head. The fountain nearby gave off the gentle sound of water running and falling into a pool. With the sun hidden, a soft breeze carried itself through the air, tickling against your skin. Even the crickets had come out by now, their once noisy chirps a now welcomed distraction.
You placed your cane off to the side, your hands adjusting your skirt to expose your tired limb. You no longer covered it with long pieces of gauze. Instead, you did as you had planned. You donated the skirts that were too short or had a slit that would allow others a view of your shame. Your closet was now filled with dresses and skirts that reached your ankles.
Softly, you massaged the aching area. Soft moans and groans falling from your limbs.
At the sound of giggles and footsteps, you adjusted the material to preserve your dignity and tucked yourself into the corner, hoping those who were coming wouldn’t see you.
“Did you see? How she stumbled her way across the room?”
Peeking around an ivy-covered corner, you watched as the male mocked the way you walked, the bubbling liquid in his flute nearly spilling from his exaggerated movement. The girl with him stifled her laughs behind her palm, softly smacking his chest with a gloved hand.
Your eyes burned as a wounded sob came from between your teeth bitten lips. You felt a fool as you recalled yourself warmly welcoming them into your home and they had the gall to laugh behind your back. A part of you tried to give people the benefit of the doubt, but time and time again, they took advantage of your kind nature. How foolish you were.
The sound caught their attention. Squinting their eyes, they tried to make out any figures hidden in the garden. When the male took a step in your direction, a voice called out to them, the familiar tone belonging to Caleb.
“It would be best if you two made your way inside, The doors leading out here were only left open for the night air to make its way into the ballroom, not for guests to wander through the young missus garden.”
The couple offered mumbled apologies as they shuffled their way back inside, past the large male who watched them from the corner of his eye. He would make sure they would pay before they had the chance to leave for the night. No being who mocked you within earshot of him would make it unscathed. Everything had a price and he would make sure they would cover the toll with something other than money.
You planned to wait for Caleb to follow them before you slipped inside and made your way to your room, but the male had other plans.
“I know you’re there, pips.” The sound of his shoes stepping on the gravel grew closer before he appeared before you, a sympathetic smile on his pretty lips. “I’m sorry you had to hear what the scum had to say, but try to pay them no mind. They’re unhappy with their lives so they resort to hurting those most innocent.”
It didn’t hurt any less though.
When you curled into yourself, Caleb quickly went over to you and curled his arm over your shoulder. You found yourself with your head tucked under his chin, his hands running over your skin in a comforting manner.
“Please, don’t waste your tears on them. They don’t deserve them.”
He held you until you settled down, the handkerchief in his pocket used to dab at your eyes and wipe your streaked cheeks. He went as far as to have you blow your nose into the soft material, eyes twinkling as he looked down at you. You clung to him, your body seeking the warmth he radiated.
“I saw how much you longed to dance today, honey.” Untangling your limbs and moving to stand, he offered you his hand. “I may not be a dashing trust fund kid, but if you can look past that, I’m more than happy to be your dance partner.”
“Oh, Caleb.”
Your heart broke at the way he saw himself. He believed he was worth less just because he didn’t come from money. Maybe it was better that way. If he had grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth, there was a high chance he wouldn’t be the sweetheart he was now.
“You’re worth so much more than those men as they lack your kind heart and hopeful spirit. But…you know I’m not much of a dancer.”
“That’s okay. If you allow me, I’ll show you my hidden talent, and don’t worry about your two left feet, you can step on mine.”
You gave him an incredulous look.
“But your shoes. You’ll have to go and buy another pair if I ruin them.”
He ignored your words, his arm tugging your body against his as he lifted and placed your heel-covered feet on his slightly worn-out dressing shoes. Your hands quickly came up to stabilize yourself, one settling on his bicep and the other held on to his for dear life.
“If I get you to genuinely smile for the first time in a long time, then I’ll gladly spend my monthly earnings on all the pairs of shoes I can buy just to share a dance with you.”
With the tender song playing inside the building echoing out to the garden, he began to move his feet to the rhythm. You felt weightless as he moved your body forward and backward, side to side every so often.
You couldn’t help but think how nice life would be if more people were like Caleb. He was accepting and more than willing to find a way to accommodate your needs, going as far as to risk his own comfort for the sake of yours. It had been that way since you were children.
Josephine had brought him with her when she was hired as a maid after he lost both of his parents. As their time within the estate grew, so did their position. Over time, she became the head maid while Caleb did whatever tasks were given to him. The manual labor allowed his muscles to form, bulging from under his skin, his body filling out to that of a handsome young man.
He enjoyed the work they gave him as it allowed time to pass and he got to see you. Your friendship grew one day as children in the very garden the two of you were currently dancing in. You had required help with a heavy pot and he took it as an opportunity to finally introduce himself, using the disguise of help as his aid.
Since then, he has never left your side. When you were little, you’d spend your time playing hide and seek or climbing trees which would end with your mother scolding you for doing something so unladylike. As the two of you aged, you began to have picnics under the large magnolia tree where you’d read to one another, every so often stopping to talk about things that came to mind.
You grew up together, an unconscious bond forming that would result in neither one of you being able to live without the other. Caleb made peace with the thought, you just needed to be made to realize it.
Though you weren’t aware, your mother noticed shortly after your eighteenth birthday. She had seen the love-struck look on Caleb’s face and the twitch of jealousy that flickered when some potential suitor came around you. She knew he meant well, but society wouldn’t look kindly on your relationship.
From then on, she looked for a way to send you away from the house. Private school was no longer an option, but the second you showed interest in traveling the world, she ran with it and pushed you to go to Europe.
It was a shame Caleb had managed to hear the reason behind her never-ending support in you seeing the world. She wanted to drive a wedge between you which ended up costing her her life and you got hurt in the process. Messing with the brakes of the car, you weren’t supposed to be in the vehicle with her and when he heard you had been involved, he ran to the scene.
When he arrived at the smoking car, the side your mother occupied took most of the damage, the impact having caused a severe cerebral hemorrhage which ended her life within minutes.
He paid her no mind, instead focusing on checking your pulse. He was relieved as he felt it flutter under his fingertips. In his panic, he didn’t realize the seat in front of you had dislodged from its spot and landed on your right leg, a scrap piece of metal lodging itself deep into your skin. Had he not had to run away from the scene at the sound of police cars growing closer, the moment he tried to pull you out, he would’ve noticed what he had caused.
Either way, it would’ve been too late. The damage was done, your mother was gone, and you wouldn’t be able to be taken from him.
The moment he gracefully dipped you, your fingers digging into his flesh to prevent yourself from falling, he smiled when your laugh rang out through the empty space. His eyes trailed over the expanse of your soft neck. The necklaces you wore were always stunning. They would look even better after he added a couple of marks left by his mouth and teeth to match. You’d look like a work of art in his eyes.
He held you tightly against him, savoring the feel of your body against his.
“I would spin you around like I’ve seen others do, but I don’t think it would be possible while you’re on my foot.” His words were spoken into your ear as his cheek rested on the side of your head. “I hope the dip will suffice in the meantime.”
He did it again and received the same reaction, this time ending with you tucking your face against his chest to keep others from hearing your giggle.
“Where’d you learn how to dance?”
“How bad would you laugh at me if I said grandma was my dance teacher growing up?”
At your snicker, he glared at you, but the corners of his mouth threatened to form into a smile as he kept dancing no less. Quietly, his tone turned serious.
“You deserve a carefree night after what you’ve gone through. Though there are a few differences, I hope I managed to provide you with some much-needed peace.”
The music came to a slow stop, with claps from the guests following shortly after.
When Caleb came to a smooth halt, you took the chance to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Your fingers dug into the material of his suit jacket and the whine you produced had him panicking, his hands trying to pull your body away from his.
“W-what is it! Did I do something wrong?”
You shook your head.
“You have no idea how much I appreciate you, Caleb. Since the day we met, you’ve always been the sweetest, and yet, here I’ve been keeping you at arm's length since returning from the hospital because I feared you’d treat me differently.” You watched as your fingers picked at the pin on his lapel. “I’m so sorry I ever doubted you…Thank you for-for loving me and taking care of me all these years. I don’t think I’d be able to go on if I lost your support.”
Adjusting you in his grasp to see your pretty face, Caleb wiped away the singular tear that fell with his thumb. He gave you a fond smile as his cheeks burned before catching you off guard and setting a hesitant, shy kiss on the corner of your mouth.
He was testing the waters, gauging your reaction.
You ended up surprising him as you took hold of the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down. Your lips settled against his, your kisses innocent and those of one who didn’t know what she was doing.
Your inexperience brought a smile to Caleb’s face. You hadn’t been soiled by another man and it would stay that way. No one other than him was worthy of you. He’d be the only one allowed to defile you.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue sneaking its way into your mouth when your lips parted as you gasped for air. Trailing down to your jaw and neck, he spoke against your heated skin.
“Breath, pips. You gotta breathe through your nose.”
Your shoulders curled inward, your embarrassment present on the apple of your cheeks. Avoiding his gaze, your eyes stayed on the buttons of his shirt, and your bottom lip caught between your teeth.
“I’m-I’m sorry if I’m not…not very good.” You apologized as you let go of him and took a step back. “I’ve never-I haven’t kissed anyone before.”
“What a precious girl you are.”
His cool hands felt nice on your heated cheeks. He was the one who initiated the kiss this time, mumbling for you to breathe when you tried to pull away once more. After a couple of tries, you got the hang of it and savored the taste of him.
The sweet moment the two of you shared in the alcove of the garden was interrupted by a sharp pain in your leg. You were sure you would’ve stumbled to the ground had it not been for the male holding you up. The flash of pain on your face didn’t slip past him.
“How brutish of me. I’ve kept you on your feet from far too long, haven’t I?”
Walking over to where you cane lie with his help, you walked side-by-side with Caleb as he helped you up the servants' stairs. The narrow, uneven steps proved a difficult task. Thankfully, he kept his hands on your waist as acted as a security blanket. You wouldn’t be falling on his watch.
“I’ve made another mistake in allowing you to walk up these stairs. Even grandma has a difficult time with them.”
You turned with a scowl when you reached the top.
“Did you just compare me to an elderly person?”
His expression which resembled that of a fish out of water had you giggling, this time leaving him to follow your steps.
“Of course not! I just meant that-”
His words came to a stop when you tenderly patted his chest.
“I was only joking, Caleb. Please, don’t feel bad. I know you didn’t mean it negatively.”
The rest of your walk was filled with a lighthearted aura. Caleb and you resembled a pair of teenagers in love. Your fingers “accidentally” brushed against each other’s and a few stolen kisses occurred. Hushed words and happy giggles were shared in the air around you until you finally bid each other a goodnight.
—
The magnolia tree you sat under kept you protected from the rays of the sun, a glass filled with sweet tea keeping you hydrated as Caleb worked away at the garden. A thick quilt filled with cotton had been placed under you, the male adamant about the fact that your dress was too expensive and lovely to be soiled.
Through the corner of your eye, the golden handle of your cane shone as it caught the rays of the sun through the ruffling leaves. It worked as a constant reminder of that bitter day. You hoped that someday, you would see it in a positive light the way Caleb did.
At the presence of a warm body lying beside you, you turned to the young male with the beautiful purple eyes. His figure lay across the expanse of the blanket, his legs crossed at his ankles as he rested on an elbow. The juicy red apple in his hand crunched loudly as his teeth bit into it.
His eyes took in the garden he tended to with pride. As it was your favorite place in the entire estate, he made sure to take special care of it. Only those he deemed competent enough were allowed to partake in tasks that involved the garden.
You used to help out. You’d happily tend the flowers, picking only the prettiest ones to place in the crystal vase meant for your vanity. The helper used to scold you for pulling out weeds and scooping out the leaves that fell into the fountain, but you’d wave them off and continued with a smile.
You wanted nothing more than to proceed as you once did, but you knew better than anyone. No one would dare say anything, afraid that they’d lose their job, but you were aware you would only be getting in the way.
“What’s got that adorable mind of yours in the clouds today, huh?”
“I was thinking of the time I was able to help take care of the garden. Who would’ve thought a singular accident would take that away from me within a matter of seconds? I can’t even walk on the grass since my cane would only poke holes into the soil.”
Caleb glanced up at you, using the hand of the arm he was reclined on to grab yours, and tangling your fingers together. He made sure no one was looking as he pressed a sticky kiss to the back of your hand.
“As much as you may hate it, that cane is a part of you now just as much as those metaphorical and physical scars you carry.” You fought to let go of his hand at the mention of the blemishes that stained your skin, but that only made him hold onto you even tighter. He kissed each knuckle. “One day, when you’re ready, you’ll allow me the privilege to cherish the parts of you you’ve kept hidden.”
Your cheeks burned as your mind wandered in the opposite direction from what he meant. You believed the meaning behind his words was pure, if you only knew he meant exactly what you were thinking. He’d ravish you, filling your virgin cunt with his cock and kissing your scar while doing so.
“You know, for being as sweet as you are, you sure do know how to make a girl blush.”
“Oh, please. You’re the only one I’m comfortable with, that’s why. Besides, I don’t care for anyone other than my sweet pips.”
Once Caleb had cooled down, he stood up and wiped his hands on his slacks before offering to help you up.
“You should stand and walk around for a bit. I don’t want a cramp ruining the nice day you’re having.”
You were grateful for his help. Whenever he could, he’d offer you his arm instead of your cane, allowing you to bear your weight against him. During those times, you couldn’t help but think the two of you resembled the couples you’d see walking down the street. It was moments like these where you’d forget about the stagger in your step or the pain traveling through your limb and it was almost as if all was right in the world.
As you passed the bush with the pink roses, you complimented Caleb for his green thumb earning yourself a flushed expression. He went as far as to clear his throat, avoiding your gaze.
When you heard your name being called, you turned to find your father standing with an unfamiliar man beside him.
He was nicely dressed, his pinstriped suit neatly ironed and he carried a dark leather Gladstone bag. As you got closer, he removed the fedora he wore, revealing slicked-back black hair that shone in the sun. He looked like he came from money, the watch on his wrist similar to the ones your father wore.
For once in his life, Caleb wished he were better dressed. The man beside your father was exceptionally handsome, with an air of superior intellect surrounding him. He carried himself with a grace Caleb knew he lacked. Why was he here and why did your father look so eager to introduce you to him?
“Chivalrous as always, my boy.” Your father acknowledged Caleb, giving him a pat on the back and taking your walking stick from him. “I’ll handle it from here. Head on inside and have some lunch. You deserve it after leaving the garden in such a wonderful state.”
You couldn’t help the frown that etched itself on your face as Caleb quietly excused himself, his purple eyes sparing you one final glance as he stepped away.
“Sweetheart, this fine young man you see here is Dr. Zayne Li. I’ve been meaning to introduce you to each other since meeting him at our last gathering, but you had turned in for the night before I had the chance.”
Zayne held his hat to his chest as he slightly bowed.
“Lovely to meet you, Miss Linkon. Your father speaks very highly of you. It’s nice being able to finally put a face to a name.”
You offered him a nod and a closed-lip smile.
“Forgive me, Dr. Li. I’m unable to properly welcome you as my impairment doesn’t allow me to curtsy properly.”
“Don’t apologize. I understand certain things are out of your control.”
Taking the arm your father offered, the three of you made your way into your father’s den. You took a seat across from the doctor with your father settling beside you, proceeding to lead the conversation.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve brought you here…”
You sat quietly, your hands clasped together in your lap as you listened intently. The purpose behind Zayne’s visit is to establish a relationship between you and your new doctor. Though his specialty is cardiology, his need for knowledge had him reading medical articles outside of his area of expertise. He enjoyed implementing the things he learned into his craft, allowing him to reach a larger audience.
On the night of the party, he had been explaining to your father how physical therapy paired with the correct pain medication, was being used to allow those with muscle weakness to rebuild some strength. It was a treatment method that had slowly been gaining traction. Though results varied from person to person, there were far greater success stories than negative ones. While a hundred percent recovery wasn’t always possible, there was still noticeable improvement.
“Just by performing these stretching exercises on a routine basis, patients have seen improved flexibility and minimization of pain. Some have even begun to incorporate the use of water, otherwise known as hydrotherapy. With the natural buoyancy of the body, it relieves the strain placed on joints and muscles due to one’s weight.”
It was natural for the subject to peak your interest. You didn’t know too much about the different types of medical treatments, but the way Dr. Zayne broke it down into the simplest terms allowed you to understand how it worked and its many benefits.
You had already begun using medication as a form of pain management, another doctor prescribing a pill that helped with the ache caused by your inflamed nerves. It worked for the most part, but you couldn’t help but worry about the day your body grew accustomed to it, diminishing its effectiveness. Even so, you were only allowed one pill per day, and the times the pain was particularly agonizing, there was only so much that one piece was able to manage.
“What do you think, sweetheart?” Your father questioned, a hand coming to lay on your shoulder in a supportive manner. “Is it something you’re willing to try? The benefits of this treatment seem to outweigh the cons, don’t you think?”
The possibility of returning to the life you had before was all too tempting. Of course, there was the possibility of it not working, leaving you exactly where you had begun.
“What if it’s too painful?” You felt like a child as that was the first thing that came to mind. Had you become too complacent with Caleb looking after you that you would refuse the help you had once longed for? “Since the accident, every day that passes is filled with discomfort and pain. To be honest, I’m not exactly looking to push my body into a position that will leave me in even more pain than I already am.”
You wanted to leave the room when disappointment flashed across your father’s face. Zayne on the other hand shifted in his seat and cleared his throat before proceeding.
“I can understand your hesitation. No one enjoys having their body in a constant state of suffering as it’s a natural stressor. Since your affected limb is on the lower half of your body, which carries more weight than an arm would, I would highly encourage you to partake in hydrotherapy and, if you’re up for it, some stretching exercises can be done in bed. I’m sure one of the maids would be able to help you.”
You requested some time to think, your father hesitantly agreeing while Zayne handed you a pamphlet detailing stretches that could be done before going to sleep. The two men made their way downstairs, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
With all the new information swirling around in your head, you couldn’t help but wonder what Caleb would think. The two of you were close as you grew up together, but since returning from the hospital, your bond had deepened. No longer were you a pair of souls longing for the other, now you spent your days together, stealing kisses when no one was looking and using the excuse of needing help to hold his hand.
If you did manage to get better, would your relationship go back to how it was before? You couldn’t bear the thought. You would no longer be able to deal with your chronic pain without him. His kisses and kind words helped you get through the day.
You could no longer deny the love you had for him. Though your mother wasn’t the biggest fan of your friendship with the purple-eyed boy, surely your father who came from a similar background as Caleb would be more accepting. There was no way he would allow prejudices to keep you from the happiness you deserved.
Adjusting your grip on the cane, you stood and made your way to your room.
—
Caleb was torn between two emotions; utter delight as he watched you bob around the pool in your one-piece bathing suit, the blue and white stripes causing an unlikely resemblance to an adorable sailor, and jealousy as Dr. Li held your hands as you moved your body through the water.
The man’s body was damn near on full display as the crab back top and black swim trunks allowed the muscles in his body to be seen as they flexed. Caleb had to hold himself back when he saw the male go into the pool with you.
The doctor had you doing lunges in the shallow end of the pool, encouraging you to go lower with each step you took. Caleb couldn’t hear the words spoken between the two of you, but his keen eyesight allowed him to see the pinch located in the middle of your brows and the tight set of your jaw. He damn near had an aneurysm when
Your body was aching, but you were pushing yourself.
Not to impress the maid who stood by the edge of the pool cheering you on with a towel in hand, but for the purple-eyed man watching you from your bedroom window. Your room offered a perfect view of the pool and Caleb was more than happy to hide out there as your scent filled every corner.
You had caught sight of him a few minutes into your therapy. You couldn’t deny that having Caleb there was pushing you to step out of your comfort zone. He spent so much time encouraging and supporting you that the very least you could do was make him proud with some sort of improvement, no matter how small.
A sigh of relief came from Caleb as you made your way over to the railing, signaling your therapy session was over. As the water droplets cascaded along your figure and the material of your swimsuit clung to you like a second skin, he felt his cock twitch at the sight. He groaned into his fist as he pressed his growing bulge against the wall in hopes it would get rid of it.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait too long as Zayne’s next move had his jaw clenching, jealousy spilling out from every pore. The onyx-haired male placed himself behind you as you climbed out. Though you were holding on to the metal railing, two large hands were placed at your waist as an extra set of precaution.
It was completely innocent in your eyes, aware that the doctor didn’t want you to lose your balance. A limp mixed with a slippery, wet floor was not a good combination and your father would eat him alive if you returned with another injury.
Caleb didn’t see it that way.
The obsessive love he had for you clouded his judgment. To him, it was Zayne touching something he wasn’t supposed to, something that wasn’t him. The need to break the doctor’s hands grew tenfold. He restrained himself as he knew no good would come from it, other than you blaming yourself for his actions.
Caleb had hoped that since your session had come to an end, you’d finally be able to spend time with him. That wasn’t the case as you were whisked away, the maids mumbling about washing off the chlorine from your skin before having lunch with your father and Zayne under the white wood gazebo in the garden. Your father wanted a weekly report on your progress, if any. He wanted you there in hopes that you would grow closer to the doctor. It’s a shame your mind was already clouded by a certain butler.
You were aware Caleb was not so sneakily trailing behind you, leaving the safety of your room when you stepped into the house after your session. A sour taste filled your mouth. Between your therapy sessions and social events you have to attend lately, you haven’t paid much attention to your purple-eyed darling. You had hoped to see him after your lesson, but your father had other plans.
There was a visible twitch in Caleb’s eye when your old man excused himself, leaving you and the doctor alone in the garden. From an outside perspective, the two of you looked like you were on a date.
In a quick act of carelessness, Caleb managed to nick one of his fingers with the flower shears. Drops of blood fell onto the white petals of the rose. He grabbed the small towel that hung from his back pocket and applied pressure, hoping the bleeding would stop.
The towel stained in red managed to catch your attention from where you were, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor as you stood up, You barely managed to steady yourself with your cane, your steps wobbly encouraging Zayne to hold onto you.
“Caleb! What on earth happened?”
“It’s nothing.” He tried to play it off, but the amount of blood he was losing was alarming.
Zayne stepped between you two, encouraging Caleb to show him the cut.
“Let me take a look.”
Caleb begrudgingly allowed the doctor to look at the wound. His anger didn't allow him to even flinch when Zayne applied pressure to the cut, assessing whether or not it would stop the bleeding.
“It’s a long cut, but thankfully not too deep.” Zayne wrapped the towel tightly around Caleb’s injured finger. “Why don't you help Miss Linkon back to where she was? I have a suture kit in my bag. I’ll be out in a second.”
With hasty and uneven steps, you gestured for Caleb to have a seat in the chair your father had been occupying. Grabbing the pitcher and a clean glass, you filled it with iced tea before handing it over to him.
“Drink this, you’re looking a little pale.”
At your anxious tone and expression, he took the glass without any reluctance, gulping down a large amount in one go.
“The heat plus the loss of blood is probably to blame for that.” Caleb said while munching on a piece of ice. He swore his heart skipped a beat or two when your hand reached out and held onto his non-injured one.
“You need to be careful. Josephine won’t let you set foot in the garden again if you were to lose a finger. Then who will grow all these pretty flowers for me?”
He couldn’t help the grin that appeared when your cheeks turned pink as you realized what you had just said.
“Hey, at least it got you to pay attention to me.”
You frowned, turning away from him and crossing your arms with a humph
“You don’t need to hurt yourself for me to give you attention.”
“I just hope you’ll kiss it better for me.”
There was no time for you to gather yourself as Zayne returned with the huge doctor bag he carried around. Both you and Caleb watched with fascination as he pulled this and that out from his bag, glass bottles rattling inside of it from the motion.
“Perhaps you should head on inside, Miss Linkon. I don’t think you’ll find the sight of suturing pleasant.”
“But-”
You wanted to stay until you thought about your own stitches. You weren’t awake when they had been placed, but the memory of the pain they caused the first couple of days haunted you. Your fingers twitched with the need to pick at the strings as you felt the tension on your skin followed by the itchiness as your flesh healed.
Glancing at Caleb, he reassured you with a nod and soft smile as if to say he would be okay.
“I’ll-uh-I’ll head on inside. I’m feeling a little tired now.”
“It’s to be expected after putting your body through the physical strain that comes with hydrotherapy.” Zayne’s attention was focused on the bleeding wound before him, his glasses sitting on the tip of his nose as he disinfected the cut. “You did well today, Miss Linkon. You deserve to rest.”
Slowly, you made your way up to your room. The light gown you wore was replaced by a simple white, ankle-length nightie before lying down on the velvet couch. You covered yourself with a thin blanket, your eyes fluttering shut after a few minutes.
Caleb didn’t get to see you until the sun had set and the help was settling down for the night. He had noticed you didn’t come down for dinner which ended with him heading up to your room, tray of food in hand. He was carefully quiet, knowing which floorboards creaked and avoiding those. When his knock was met with silence, he welcomed himself in and locked the door.
He frowned when he noticed your bed was empty only to realize you were on the sofa. Setting the tray to the side, he opened the curtains, allowing the moonlight to spill in and illuminate your soft skin.
The nightie you wore had ridden up and one of the straps haphazardly hung off your shoulder. Your breasts nearly spilled out from the collar, the plush mounds silently tempting him. For the first time, he managed to see the skin you kept hidden. A scar ran up the lateral side of your right leg, from the middle of your calf, down to your ankle.
He knew how ashamed you were, but he didn’t understand why.
You were still you. No amount of scars or ‘imperfections” would change that.
Brushing the tips of his fingers along the jagged skin, he smiled when you unconsciously tried to pull your leg under the blanket. The grip he had on your ankle wouldn't allow it. There was a furrow in your brow, but he ignored it as he fell to his knees.
His lips met the scarred flesh, nose and cheek nuzzling against your calf. Just like the rest of your body, he would worship this part of you without a second thought. He pressed open-mouth kisses along the area, his tongue running up the length of your scar.
He was completely oblivious to the fact that you had woken up.
Your first initial reaction was to scream, but you held back when the scent of Caleb’s body wash reached your nose. Glancing down, you were met with him caressing and kissing the laceration. His eyes were closed as he was lost in you.
The tears that had formed made your eyes burn. No one close to you had seen your shame, the fear of what their reaction would be kept you from doing so. Yet, here was Caleb adoring the very bit of you that had only negative memories attached to it.
He didn’t respond when you called his name the first time. You held yourself up on your elbows. You only caught this attention when you tried to pull your leg from his grasp. He looked up, hand reaching out to cup your cheek.
“Don’t cry, pips. D’ya have any idea how beautiful you are? Scars and all?”
The apple of your cheeks burned, the warmth running down to your chest. With the blanket falling to your waist, the temperature difference had your nips perking up, catching the attention of the male.
Within a second, Caleb was on top of you, lips devouring yours. His lower half came to rest between your legs. He kissed you breathless. Licking your bottom lip, a sign you familiarized with him asking for entrance. The second you opened just the slightest amount, his tongue was slinking its way in.
He hummed at your taste.
The whimper you let out was swallowed by his greedy mouth when his hips rocked against your clothed core.
“Caleb, what’re-”
“You did so well out there today. You have any idea how proud of you I am, honey?”
At the compliment, your body started buzzing from excitement.
During your time sneaking around with Caleb, you learned how much you enjoyed being praised. Never in your life had the congratulations you received affected you the way his did. The boy you grew up with was making a nice little nook for himself in your heart and you were happily letting him.
You tried to pull away, but he didn’t let you. Instead, his hand went under your body and pulled you up, settling you on his lap. The familiar pain in your leg was back because of the position, but for once, you couldn’t care less. He finally let you catch your breath as his nose ran on the underside of your jaw.
“You looked utterly adorable in your bathing suit, though, I couldn’t help but wonder how you’d look with nothing on.”
You let out a gasp when he made quick work of your gown, tugging the straps and letting it pool around your waist.
“Caleb-”
He went back to making out with your mouth, lips meeting yours in a bruising kiss. You were worried you wouldn’t satisfy him. As handsome as he was, you knew girls coveted him, and the way he was kissing you, you knew he had had his fair share of notches on his bedpost.
How could you compete with them? You doubted they had a limp and had to take daily medication to control their chronic pain.
It took a lot of force to push him away as he didn’t want to let you go. You created distance, moving to stand beside your vanity.
“What’s wrong, honey? Did I go too far?”
You shook your head, turning to look at yourself in the mirror.
“I can’t help but wonder you’d be better satisfied with someone else.”
Caleb wasted no time crossing the space, his chest pressed against your back. His hand came around and roughly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him through the mirror.
“I don’t want anybody else. You’re the one who drives me crazy and I can’t imagine letting you go now that I have you.” The way he spoke sent chills down your spine and goosebumps littered across your skin. “You have no idea what I’d do if someone tried to take you from me.”
There you stood with a massive shadow looming over you. Your lips and cheeks were a lovely shade of red. The way your nipples hardened managed to catch not only your attention, but Caleb’s as well. His mouth watered, wishing to play with them using his tongue. This time, his hands ripped the back of your gown this way you wouldn't be able to cover yourself again. You could merely watch as the material slipped down your body on its own.
A moan mixed with a gasp slipped past your swollen lips when two large hands cupped your tits. You were afraid to move, wondering what his next move would be. You had never gone further than kissing, this was an area you were unsure of.
“Your finger…” You tried to reason with him, worried his stitches would open, but he paid them no mind.
His hands stayed where they were while he nudged your head to the side with the tip of his nose, the smooth expanse of skin that had been exposed calling to him. The skin was a complete representation of its owner; untainted, never having experienced any manhandling.
The second you felt him press open-mouth kisses along your shoulder, your head fell back against his chest and your eyes fluttered shut.
As the purple-eyed male suckled the warm skin of your shoulder, his fingers brushed up against the hardened buds on your breasts.
Your body was reacting in an unfamiliar way. The space between your legs was fluttering to the beat of your heart. Even your fingers twitched as you wanted nothing more than to slip them along your wet folds.
“Caleb, I feel-feels wet down there.”
“It’s called being turned on, pips. Your body is reacting the way it should be. It means you like what I’m doing to you.” He pushed on the space between your shoulder blades, laying you across your vanity. “I want you to trust me, yeah…Want you to watch how pretty you’ll look when you fall apart from my tongue and fingers.
You felt as he removed your panties, unaware that he pocketed them to add to the collection he had in a box under his bed.
The scent of your arousal had his mouth watering and his dick twitching. Your untouched cunt was glistening before his eyes, begging to be filled with something thicker and longer than his fingers. When he saw your eyes looking over your shoulder to sneak a glance at him, his teeth sank into the flesh where your ass cheek met your thigh.
He wanted to spank you, leave his handprint there as a brand, but the house was too quiet and the smack would surely echo. He had to settle for a small nip.
“Eyes front.” He growled, tongue soothing the skin he bit. “I won’t tell you again.”
You felt out of breath while anticipating his next move.
You jolted in surprise when a glob of spit landed on your untouched hole.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when Caleb used his tongue to spread the wetness along your slit, covering your cunt and clit. The feeling of his tongue swirling around the bundle of nerves was foreign, but welcomed nonetheless.
“Fucking shit-taste so good…so damn sweet. It’s no wonder I call you honey.”
Caleb was in complete nirvana. Your taste was everything he imagined it to be. Deliciously sweet and tart, it covered every taste bud he had. Pushing his face into your cunt to the point where the tip of his nose had slipped into your pussy, your hands clenched and unclenched as you had nothing to hold on to.
You had to keep your moans and whimpers to a minimum much to Caleb’s dismay, but he was able to make out the gasps of air and intakes over the slurping sound coming from between your thighs.
When a finger slid in, he had to make sure to leave you soaking wet beforehand to ensure easy access. You adjusted quickly allowing him to slide in another. He scissored his sheathed fingers, stretching you for when the day you finally take his cock comes.
The second his fingers curled towards your clit, hitting a particularly spongy and sensitive spot, you couldn’t cover your mouth fast enough to muffle the moan.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Can tell you like it cause of the way you’re sucking in my fingers.”
Looking at yourself in the mirror, you took in your flushed skin and damn near bruised lips. Your teeth had left faint indents from how hard you had to bite on them to keep your sounds of pleasure quiet. Unbeknownst to you, the flex of your leg while being on your tippy-toes was one of the exercises Zayne had recommended you complete. You couldn’t be bothered by the strain there that you usually avoided as you were too busy enjoying Caleb’s ministrations.
When he pulled away, only stimulating the bundle of nerves with his thumb, you whined as you missed the sensation of his tongue lapping at your pussy.
“I learned that when one cums, their body releases a hormone which acts as a natural painkiller.” The hand that wasn’t covered in your slick reached down to caress the calf of your injured leg. “By the way you’re completing your nightly stretches without complaining, I can tell whoever figured that out was doing something they probably weren’t supposed to.”
You didn’t think it would be possible to hear an expression, but you can tell from his words that he was smirking in pride.
“You’re making fun of me.” You said in a whiny voice. He smiled when you reached an arm behind you, trying to shove his face back into your cunt. “I can’t help that you’re making me feel so good.”
Standing from his kneeling position behind you, he curled himself over your back. While one hand slinked its way between your legs, the other slid under your torso and curled around your throat.
“Gonna make you watch as I make you cum for the first time.”
His fingers pressed against your mouth, pressing down on your tongue so that you could taste yourself as the other set slammed into your gaping hole without warning. All but one of your holes was filled, but that was something he’d save for another time.
His face was pressed along the length of your throat, nipping at the skin while fingering you open.
You watched how much of a mess you were.
Drool dripping down your chin to Caleb’s fingers and onto your chest, your tits bounced from the force of his fingers and from the way he was rubbing his bulge against your ass. There was something debauched and filthy about the image before you. Your usual pristine image was nowhere to be found.
Caleb had bared you before him in a literal and metaphorical sense.
Feeling a warmth spreading along your pelvis, your legs started to shake and your moans came out in an uncontrolled manner. Thank god for Caleb’s fingers on your tongue otherwise you were sure you’d wake up the whole estate.
“Can feel her sucking in my fingers, honey. You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum for a lowly servant boy like me?”
You tried to keep your eyes on your reflection as Caleb had ordered, but as the pressure in your cunt reached its peak, you fell apart. You were unable to keep your promise. Your hands ended up grasping the material of the slacks he wore as you went cross-eyed and your body shook from your first ever orgasm. Caleb watched with rapt attention as you trembled in his arms, the flushed color on your cheeks spreading down your neck to your chest.
Caleb held your body up through the aftershocks, hand caressing your hip as it bucked from the sensitivity. It wasn’t until the hold on his slacks loosened and your breathing returned to its normal pace that he stopped lulling you.
“What did I tell you? Too damn stunning for your own good.” Sticking his cum covered fingers in his mouth. He hummed around them before pulling them out with a dramatic pop. “Next, you’re gonna watch as you take my cock, but first, gonna make sure the doctor doesn’t leave my girl too sore.”
After cleaning and feeding you a few spoonfuls of the food he had brought, Caleb tucked you into bed, parting with a sweet kiss and a hushed sweet dream. Your bedroom door shut softly behind him.
He let out a sigh of happiness or satisfaction, unsure of which one it was at the moment, as he leaned on the door. The taste of your cunt and the image of you coming apart would forever be ingrained in his mind. Running his thumb over the wet gusset of your panties, he brought the garment up to his nose for one last whiff before heading to his room where he’d fist his cock while looking at your picture and suffocating himself with your underwear until he passes out for the night.
[ Colonel Caleb X a reader that's had enough of his BS. Very slutty, high-key toxic, perhaps angsty. Yep, that's it. ]
Disclaimer Just in case anyone needs to hear it: This is NOT my interpretation of a BDSM relationship in any way! I didn't even call it puppy play because I don't consider it one. Stay safe out there pookies!
"Please, I'll do anything."
One single sentence.
That's all it took for a series of unpredictable events to take place.
.
.
.
He had messed up. Caleb was aware that keeping you locked up like a caged tiger was not the ideal, but what else was he to do? It was basically his life mission to keep you safe from the cruel outside world. He can't allow himself to lose you again.
Still, he couldn't stop the feeling of regret from creeping up on him little by little now that he was receiving nothing besides detached indifference from you.
Caleb could handle being yelled at and having things thrown at his head. He could take all of your frustrations and anger because it meant you cared enough to waste your energy resenting him, thinking about him. Except that was gone and it was pure torture.
A month. That's how long it's been since you've done as much as glance at his general direction. The air particles in the room had more acknowledgement than him at this point. Caleb tried to get your attention. In fact, he used every single trick he spent years honing specifically for you.
Yet there was nothing.
And that drove him insane.
.
.
.
That's how he ended up on his knees before you. The tall mattress you were sitting on placed a clear leverage between the two of you as he looked up with an expression filled with anguish and desperation.
"Pips...I can't let you leave. I'm sorry, I know you have no reason to trust me anymore but I really am doing this for you, I just can't..." He paused, swallowing his words. Though he meant everything he said it was pointless when you weren't willing to listen to his excuses anymore. His body inched closer to the edge of the mattress as one of his hands reached out towards you, only to never end up actually doing it. He didn't have the right to, not right now.
"Anything else. I'll do anything if it means you will look at me." He added with a desperation he didn't bother to hide, bringing his hand back to his own lap.
A beat.
The pitter-patter of the rain outside sounded much louder than it actually was in the dimly lit bedroom. Caleb's eyes lowered in defeat when there seemed to be no reaction once more. Of course, what was he even expecting. You could be as stubborn as a mule when you got like this. He was about to stand up to leave when his gaze immediately snapped back towards you at the sound of the sheets shifting and his heart regained it's beat at the sight of you facing him. Finally.
Fucking finally.
"You said you got me a leash with a bell, was it? Fetch it." The coldness in your voice made Caleb want nothing more than to kiss it all away. In the past it was so easy to make you melt under his affection, oh how he missed those simple, old days. Regardless, this was neither the time or place to be reminiscing and without wasting another second he abided to your request.
Well, you most likely wanted to burn the damn thing to ashes. Not that he blamed you, he thought to himself while standing up. He certainly had taken it too far with that comment in the past—
Thud.
His knees hit the floor faster than he can process after being suddenly, albeit not surprisingly, kicked. It seems he had grown too used to having his guard down around you. That was completely on him. Yeah, let's leave it at that.
"I was—" He began.
"I didn't say stand up and fetch it." You cut him curtly. The expression on your face filled with disdain and a silent, simmering anger. Your face was supported by one of your hands, leaning on top of your crossed legs as you challenged him to start with a wordless raise of eyebrows.
Now Caleb is no fool. There was no need for it to be spelled out for him to understand what you were implying for him to do. His pride immediately wanted to put an end to this ridicule before it could start. Yet it was as if your words physically bounded him; He was unable to do anything except listen to you. He was programmed merely for you.
He did say he would do anything.
And, well. He is a man of his word.
He took a subtle deep breath, steeling himself before he placed his gloved palms on the hard floor, crawling all the way to the office next to your bedroom and back, now with the leash in hands.
"I shouldn't have said something like that. I'm sorry, pips." He decided to try his luck with explaining his side once more while offering the leash to you only to watch it be thrown carelessly across the room.
"Go on. Fetch it again." You asked— No, commanded him while glaring down at the man in front of you as if he was even worse than dirt under your feet.
In a way, to the you right now, he was. Caleb crossed multiple lines and you would make sure he understood what it meant to be treated no differently than a pet. To suffer and experience the helpless of being under someone's control. If he couldn't take this much then he had no business acting like what he was doing is 'for the better'.
There was a pause, then you watched the way his tongue pushed against his cheek, his eyes sharpening towards where the item had been tossed to. At least one of his old habits stuck, you noticed. It would've been heartwarming if you didn't feel ready to rip his head off his shoulders. Caleb could taste the iron spreading on his mouth after he bit the inside of his mouth, letting out a long sigh as his features softened once more.
Alright. Let's do this your way.
Not saying another word he crawled towards the edge of your dresser. "Bring it without using your hands." You told him just before his hands made contact with the leash. However, there was no hesitation this time. As if he had given up on thinking about it too hard and took what was at face value his head slowly lowered all the way to the ground, grasping the leather between his teeth. He turned around to return without rush in his movements; If this is what you want then Caleb will go out of his way to give you the best performance he can.
He's always been all about that anyway.
As he stopped in all fours in front of the edge of the bed everything else around him turned into background noise the moment his gaze found yours. He hadn't truly realized how much he had missed just having you acknowledge his existence, let alone having your full, undivided attention focused on him.
After weeks of literally nothing from you Caleb would gladly toss away his pride if it meant your eyes, your attention, you never left him. As long as you still gave him something, whatever it was, he has no use for the rest. He needed you to say his name in the way only you know how, he would beg for you to touch him and wag his tail if you would be so kind as to praise him.
The thought alone sent all of his blood rushing to his already throbbing cock; When did his uniform start to feel this constricting again? His melting brain was at it's capacity after registering your intoxicating scent filling his senses. Maybe if he pushed some, just a tad bit more, he would witness those beautiful emotions bubbling inside of you bloom just for him.
"Drop it." The curt command interrupted the deranged storm of thoughts that were forming and he obediently obliged, parting his lips to place it on your extended hand. The brushing of your fingers against the bare skin of his neck made him flinch, biting his chapped lip to swallow the sounds threatening to escape him. He would be more than dead if you knew what was going through his mind.
Noticing how uncharacteristically quiet he was being your hands grabbed a fistful of his hair to force him to raise his head and a disapproving click of tongue left you at the unsavory sight; His skin was flushed all the way down to his neck and some strands of hair stuck to his sweaty forehead— If anyone saw him they'd think he had a fever. Or ran a marathon in five minutes. His lips were swollen from chewing on them and his jaw tight while he looked up through hazed eyes. Caleb tried to move away to cover his lap before it was too late it but was too slow.
His back hit the floor with no resistance after you pushed him down, keeping him pinned under your feet that was pressing against his shoulder. "Are you screwing with me, Caleb?" It wasn't a question. He knew it yet he still wanted to answer it even though it would only add fuel to an already burning fire.
"Not at all." His voice came out calmer than he expected, which he was partially thankful for. You on the other hand, that caused the remainder of your patience to run out. You were here to prove a point about this living hell and he was enjoying himself? Then holding back your anger was a stupid decision from the beginning. This guy doesn't deserve that much.
He jerked when the leash was abruptly tugged upwards, the leather tightening around his neck as his body was still forced to remain pinned down by you. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, his vision starting to flicker and his mind quickly growing fuzzy at the lack of oxygen. His mouth gaping and his voice cracking into weak whimpers. Still, Caleb made no move to overpower you.
You were as God itself. No, rather, you were his God. The sole purpose to his otherwise meaningless life. Every grace and punishment would be embraced by him if it was from you. He belonged to you, in every sense.
"Seriously disgusting..." The repulse in your voice sounded distant but his body shivered in response nonetheless. Your grasp on the chain grew slack for a moment, hovering over the gasping and coughing man under you, a few tears brimming on the corner of his eyes. Your free hand tapped your temple "You're more fucked up in the head than I thought. Were you always like this?"
The answer was caught in his aching throat by the feeling of your foot moving down his body and pressing against the obvious outline in his tight pants, "Do you get off when your Brigadier yells at you too? The army must've been a fuckin' breeze." You commented, pressing your heel hard on the damp spot where he was dripping and causing him to let out an unrestrained groan. No better than a bitch in heat.
"Is that why you think I enjoy being trapped here?" The frustration and anger in your words spilling out now as your voice grew louder. Caleb's pathetic moans and gasps seemed to rile you up even further, his trembling body writhing on the soft carpet under him. It feels good. So, so, so fucking good. His mind screamed at him to grab you, to make you even more upset so it was impossible for you to ignore him ever again. To make it so you could only think of him the same way he can only think of you.
"Answer me! Fuck!" You snapped, tugging at the leash much harder than before to force him upwards— Sure, you may not have the same level of strength as him, but you were still a hunter. An obedient and panting mutt like this wasn't difficult at all to manhandle.
"I'm sorry—" His hands wrapped around your ankles as he sat on his heels submissively, slowly letting his palms trail up on your soft skin. His head leaned forward to nuzzle his face against your thighs before he raised his head to look up at you. "I truly just, ngh-, I only want you to be safe." "'Safe' ?" You scoffed again but there was no humor in your smile.
"You are the most dangerous person in here, you sick pervert."
nsfw (18+). includes aphrodisiacs, dry humping, rubbing cock over panties, possessive!caleb, caleb is gentle at first until you piss him off, this is basically ‘testing caleb's patience: the fic’, unprotected sex, creampie, i have to mention that caleb is possessive twice because caleb says some freaky stuff, sappy confession during sex, happy (horny) ending <3 likes and reblogs will be very helpful !!
Caleb doesn't accept love letters and chocolates whenever Valentine's Day comes along. However, girls directly stuff them into his bag without his knowledge sometimes, and you take it upon yourself to eat the sweets because Caleb would just throw it straight to the trash otherwise.
“It's a waste,” you'd always say. “You might not like them back, but they still made the effort to make chocolate for you.”
And then Caleb would shake his head, frowning, “Though most of them mean well, sometimes they put weird stuff in the food. So if I were you, I'd spit out that cupcake, pipsqueak.”
You usually don't heed his warnings—Caleb's always been kind of an overthinker. Now, though, you regret not listening to him as an unfamiliar heat spreads across your body, your core throbbing as you feel yourself dripping in your panties.
...The panties that's rubbing against Caleb's crotch right now, soaking the fabric of his pants while you grind down on him. Caleb's expression looks like a mix of confusion, worry, and arousal, his hands hovering above your waist as if unsure where to touch you. “Nn— hey, what's gotten into you? Do you even know what you're doing right now?”
You see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he nervously swallows, and you start feeling something poking you at your clothed core. Caleb sits up on the sofa where you pushed him down a while ago, grabbing your hands on his shoulders. “C'mon, tell me. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong.”
You whimper, your body collapsing on top of his. He quickly scoops you up, one hand holding the back of your head, the other resting on your lower back, ensuring you're properly seated on his thighs.
“I... I feel weird,” you pant, clutching the front of his shirt. “I'm dizzy, and my body is hot all over. My...” you swallow down your embarrassment, “my pussy feels empty... Caleb, can't you help me? Please?”
Almost imperceptibly, his grip on you tightens by a fraction. He sighs, angling your head to make you look at him in the eye. Perhaps it's the trick of the light, but Caleb's face is a flustered pink. “I can't do that. You're going to regret it when you turn back to normal and get all weird about it.” He glances at the chocolates you ate on the table, brows furrowed. “Aphrodisiac chocolate... I should've known. Then you wouldn't have become like this...”
Your mind is in a daze. Your body feels unusually heavy, but your head feels like it's floating. Most of what he said is lost on you, and at this moment, the only thing you can focus on is that Caleb is looking at something else. You grab both of his cheeks, forcibly turning his attention to you. “Please help me, Caleb...” Clumsily, you lift up your hips, pressing your cunt against the tent in his pants. It glistens with your wetness, and Caleb can't help but groan when you rub the tip with your thumb. “It hurts... I need this inside me...”
Caleb has always adhered to your whims, but even he has his limits. He pinches your cheek, “I can't put it inside, idiot, I don't have a condom. I just have to make you cum, right?” He gestures for you to pick up the hem of your skirt, sucking in a breath when he sees how soaked you are. “Fuck....”
The entire crotch area is damp, and if he looks carefully, he can even see the faint shape of your clit. Curiously, he draws circles on it, breathing heavily when a fresh glob of slick stains your underwear. “That's hot...”
He pulls down his zipper, releasing his cock from his boxers. You gasp softly at the sight. He's long and thick, arching to a beautiful curve, colored almost red from the strain of holding back. He gives himself a few experimental pumps, moans coming from his mouth as he masturbates at the sight of you, holding up your own skirt to give him a perfect view of your wet panties, an innocent, frilly pair he can't wait to ruin.
He positions his cock to your folds, aiming at the spot your hole should be if not covered by your underwear. You both groan at the first slide, his pre-cum further soaking the fabric of your ruined panties. He wraps himself in his fist, teasing your clit as he pumps into his hand. More pearls of white spurt out of his tip. “Ah, fuck, that's good... so good...”
“Ah, ah, Caleb!”
You move your hips, moaning while he rubs himself against your cunt. The warmth of his cock is driving you crazy, and the added friction of Caleb rubbing your nipple through your clothes makes you even wetter than you already are. He's biting his lip, dazed eyes staring at your body appreciatively. “I'm taking this off, baby.”
He impatiently runs his hand through the buttons of your clothes, some of them popping off to clatter on the floor. “H-hey, I liked this shirt— haa...!”
“I'll buy you a new one,” he grunts, mouthing at one of your tits, sucking as if anything would come out. He unclasps your bra one-handed, throwing it over your shoulder. “These things are fucking annoying...”
Finally, he gets tired of rubbing you over your clothes. He lifts the side of your panties, sliding his cock inside to directly grind against your pussy. “Shit, that's more like it,” he moans loudly, your wetness gliding down his balls. “You feel so good.”
“Caleb, put it inside already,” you whine, scrunching up the fabric of your skirt in your fists. “This isn't enough for you either, hnn, right...? Give me your cock, please...”
Caleb grits his teeth, holding your hips to stop you from dropping on his dick. “Didn't I tell you I don't have a condom?”
“I don't care!” you struggle in his hold. “Fuck me, c'mon... it hurts...! If you don't...”
You pant against his ear, knowing exactly what you're getting into, drugged or not, “...I'll ask Zayne to fuck me instead.”
The effect is instantaneous. He pulls out, replacing his cock with two fingers plunging inside you at once, hitting deep all the way inside. You choke, gasping out for breath as his hand doesn't stop, slick jetting out of your cunt with every push of his fingers. His clothes are getting soaked, but Caleb doesn't care about them at all, coldly glaring at your face twisted in pleasure.
“So you're telling me you'd be fine with just anyone?” He's chuckling, but he doesn't sound like he's happy. “Fuck. I should've just done this from the start, then.”
He grabs two of the chocolates, popping one in his mouth. When he finishes swallowing, he places the other one in his mouth again, but then he suddenly grabs your jaw. “Open your mouth, slut.”
He pulls you in for a kiss, mouths locking together. The chocolate melts from the heat, his tongue licking at yours as he's forcing you to swallow. He doesn't let you go until he's sure you've eaten all of it, drool dripping from the corner of your lips.
“We're not stopping until you learn I'm the only one who gets to see you like this,” he grunts, taking out his fingers and slathering your slick on his cock to make it wet. “I'm the only one who gets to call you mine.”
“Haa... haa...”
Clothes are strewn messily on Caleb's bedroom floor, the mattress squeaking with each thrust of his hips. You're on your back, one leg hooked over Caleb's shoulder, staring into space as you're fucked absolutely stupid.
“Fuck, I can't stop my hips....” Caleb's still fucking into you, hasn't stopped for the past hour. The effects of the aphrodisiac have probably passed after the first two rounds, but his cock shows no signs of softening after release. He cums another load into you, overflowing from your pussy to spread into his sheets. “Ah, hng, shit... Hey, I told you not to waste it.”
He pulls out, pressing his fingers inside your loose hole to fuck his cum back in. You make a sound of protest, already feeling full.
“Are you starting to regret what you said now?” He grabs the back of your thighs, pressing your legs next to your ears. “Too late for that, though.”
Caleb groans, sloshing his cum inside your cunt with his dick. You helplessly grab at the sheets, moaning brokenly. His pelvis rubs against your engorged clit on every snap of his hips, driving you to squirt on his abs again, his torso glistening with your mess.
“You're squirting again? How many times have you cum?” Caleb laughs meanly, sucking another possessive mark among the smattering of hickeys he's already left along your collarbones. “Nasty girl...”
He leans back, getting a better view of your body. There are traces of him everywhere, from the hickeys on your neck, his cum on your chest because you couldn't swallow everything he poured in your mouth, and the faint bite marks on your inner thighs when he paid the favor and ate you out.
He presses a kiss on your chest, staring at you with dark eyes. “If you didn't say that, I would've been patient with you. Fingered you loose before putting my cock inside, making sure you're comfortable... I would've helped you ride out the effects of the aphrodisiac and never speak of it again. After all, to you, I'm just family.” He nuzzles against your cheek, his voice taking on a darker tone. “But you just had to call out another guy's name, didn't you... Would've fucked him if it was him here, not me...”
Caleb thrusts back inside you roughly, fucking your cervix. “You can't do that, you know? You've always belonged to me. Every part of you is mine, so no one else can touch you.” He cups your cheek, devouring your cries of pleasure with his mouth. “Just me... it's only me, right? I'm the person most important to you, right? You said so... So why are you bringing up another guy?”
He's asking questions, but he doesn't let you answer any of them, kissing you so much you almost can't breathe.
“Even though I'm in front of you...” Kiss. “Even when I'm the only one who loves you this much...” Kiss, kiss. “You're still thinking of another person...” Kiss, kiss, kiss. “That's hardly fair when you're all I think about everyday.” Another sloppy kiss.
You weakly push his chest, breaking away from the kiss. “Wait, Caleb—”
He pins your wrist to the bed. “I'm not stopping.”
“I'm not telling you to stop, I'm telling you to liste— ahh, haa, hnn!” The cock still ramming up your walls makes it much more difficult to speak, hammering against the sweet spot that makes your toes curl. “Fuck, ah— Caleb, listen to me!”
He hums as he sucks another hickey on your skin. “I am.”
You don't have it in you to argue even when he clearly isn't, trembling at the pleasure. The hand holding your wrist travels upwards to intertwine your fingers together, grounding you back to reality.
“Caleb, I was just— I didn't mean what I said...” you stammer, trying your best to speak without getting distracted. “I, mmh....! W-wouldn't do this with anyone else... haa... I just said that so you'd fuck me— ah, ah!”
He scoffs, slowing his pace when he sees you being overwhelmed. “You're just making excuses to get me to stop.”
“I'm not, you dummy! I...” your brows pinch together, embarrassed to say it but you continue anyway, “Caleb, you're the one I think of when I touch myself... nn... And I know it's wrong, and you only think of me as someone you should take care of, but, I, haah, I like it when you kiss me, or when you hug me, and I— gh! I like it when you fuck me hard, too, just like this...”
You move your hand to cup Caleb's jaw, admiring his awestruck expression. He looks at you like he's seeing you for the first time.
“I'm not telling you to stop,” you repeat yourself firmly. “I just wanted to say I didn't mean that thing I said earlier, and if it's you, you can do whatever you want to me. Because I love you just like how you love me, Caleb.”
His hips come to a complete stop. “Say that again.”
“I love you, Caleb.”
“Again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“Okay, you're really pushing it, it's embarrassing to sa— aah!”
He grabs your hip, pulling you back to his cock. He fucks you frantically, harsh groans leaving his lips, your name like a prayer. “Fuck... you love me? You love... me?” The words seem unfamiliar on his tongue, heartbreakingly quiet. You squeeze your connected hands.
“I love you, Caleb. I really, really love you, I've loved you a long time ago...” you tilt his chin, making him meet your gaze. “Now say it back.”
“I love you,” he says with certainty, as if it's a fact of the universe. “I love you so much.” He buries his head into your neck, sucking new marks. “I love you... fuck... I love you so badly, it hurts...”
His cock drives deeper, the wet slaps of skin deafening in the room. Cum dribbles out of your hole with his thrusts, and he swipes it up to smear it on your engorged clit. Rub, rub. Rub, rub.
“Shit, Caleb!” You wail, rutting to his finger. “Everything feels so good, ah, ah!”
“You feel so good, too, aw, fuuuck...” he's melting inside you, your warm walls clenching around him so tight, sucking him back in every time he pulls out. “Your pussy keeps sucking me back in...!”
“Ah, hnahh, ngh, yes, like that, ah! I'm cumming, cumming!”
His balls draw tight, his cock about to burst. “Fuck, shit!” he fucks in, in, in, until he's filled every space in your cunt, thumb frantically rubbing at your clit. Clear liquid soaks his cock, wetting his pelvis, and he follows you in your release, shooting ropes of milky cum deep inside your pussy. “Fuck, ah, take my cock, take my fucking cum all the way in, ohh— take it deep in your womb—”
He keeps cumming, and cumming, and cumming. “It won't stop,” he moans against your ear, watching your hole overflowing with his semen. “Your pussy feels too good, it's sucking me dry...”
“Caleb, shit, how are you still— ohh, fuuck...” you whine as the last spurts of semen hit your torso, Caleb having pulled out and pumping his dick to cover you in his cum.
Finally emptied, Caleb collapses on the spot beside you, running a hand through his hair. “I need a shower,” he mutters, feeling the stickiness on his body.
“We need a shower,” you correct him. “I probably won't be able to walk for the next few days, all thanks to you, so you better take responsibility and carry me everywhere.”
Caleb laughs, light and airy, nothing like the dark tone he's been speaking in earlier. He pulls you to his chest, pressing chaste kisses all over your face. “Anything for the girl I love.”
♡warnings: fratboy!caleb x cheating fem!reader, toxic, possessiveness, drinking, daddy, spit, extreme denial, humiliation, praise, degrading, hair pulling for like five seconds, finger sucking,
♡ uhh caleb fucks you in a ghostface mask while your boyfriend is in the other room
♡ sound bite: “Didn’t I tell you that we— no, that this is over.” Your fingers gestured between the two of you.
“Yeah, I think I do remember you saying that. I guess I got kind of confused, because right after that, you begged me to spit in your mouth. And then, right after that, you sucked my dick so fucking sloppy and then you said ‘please daddy—’”
♡ a/n: this is a part two to ice cream cake!! if you haven't read it already some parts might be a little confusing, but the vibe is still there lolol. i think this is the longest thing i've written for here ngl. enjoyyy xx
“Guess who.” You could barely hear the masked figure’s voice over the music, which had its bass boosted so much that the beat had been making your stomach turn for the last fifteen minutes. It was a lazy costume— just a Ghostface mask, accompanied by a fitted black t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants—absolutely no effort. The owner of the voice was towering over you, the mask obscuring their face, but the body was undeniably familiar.
“Can’t you find anyone else to irritate tonight?” He let out a light chuckle before sliding the mask off, his face tinted under the neon red lights of the room.
“Irritate?” He scoffed. He took a second to run his fingers through his disheveled hair before the two of you were suddenly obscenely close. He leaned into you, arm reaching for the cabinet above your head, lips inappropriately close to your ear, as he whispered, “Do your nipples always get that hard when you’re irritated?” His chest brushed against yours ever so slightly before the heat of his body was gone again, a fresh plastic cup now in his hand after he’d shut the cabinet. You looked down and sure enough, there they were, the outline of your nipples popping through your too-tight costume.
“You look good, by the way. The whole uh—whore thing is working for you.” He said, letting out a melodic laugh while he poured himself a drink of whatever cheap liquor was in the closest bottle.
“What are you supposed to be anyway?” It’s hard to mistake a Snow White costume for anything else—he knew who you were. Even if the bottom of your ass was hanging out of the skirt and your tits looked like they were one dance move away from falling out of the cheap velour top, a slutty Snow White costume is very clearly a slutty Snow White costume. He just wanted to see the annoyed look that was now staining your face. You rolled your eyes at the question before moving your cup closer to the mouth of the bottle, motioning for him to top off your drink.
“You said I’m dressed as a whore, didn’t you? I decided to be your mother for Halloween.” He hissed out at the reply, feigning shock.
“Wow… liquor makes you mean. You’re so much sweeter when you’re high, huh, baby.” He wasn’t even trying to be quiet, and if it weren’t for the fact that everyone else was too busy playing a game of beer pong in the next room, which your boyfriend was currently enjoying, someone certainly would’ve heard him on their way past the kitchen. You choked on your drink.
“Are you insane?” Your response only made him laugh even harder.
“What did I say wrong? I thought you liked it when I talked to you like that—you certainly did the other night when you were cumming all over me in the backseat of my car. What was it that you said again? Hm…” He took a second, pretending to rack his brain for the next line. “Oh yeah, it was something to the effect of uhh ‘please daddy, let me cum.’ Uhh, you said something else too—'you’re fucking me so good, daddy. Please cum inside of me, I need your babies.’ You’re such a tough girl until I start playing with that pussy, huh? Then you’ll do or say just about anything I tell you to.” He recalled the series of events so casually, as if he were talking about the weather.
“Didn’t I tell you that we— no, that this is over.” Your fingers gestured between the two of you.
“Yeah, I think I do remember you saying that. I guess I got kind of confused, because right after that, you begged me to spit in your mouth. And then, right after that, you sucked my dick so fucking sloppy and then you said ‘please daddy—’” You cut him off before he could finish, sensing another sequence of mocking was on the way.
“I told you that I’m not doing this anymore. The sneaking around is just too much for—” Now you were the one getting cut off. Not by Caleb, though, no, instead the sound of a lilted voice floated through the room, causing you to take a larger-than-normal step away from the man.
“Oh my god, baby! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” It was a dark-haired girl in a cheap little red riding hood costume who had clearly enjoyed a few too many Jell-O shots, but still, you weren’t quite sure who she was calling baby. That is, until she closed in on Caleb, their bodies now impossibly close as she craned her neck up, inviting a kiss. A sudden surge of rage boiled inside of you when he obliged, his veiny arm slithering around her waist, his tongue making its way past her lips. They were making out as if no one else was in the room. In fact, you would’ve thought you had become invisible if it wasn’t for Caleb’s eyes locking onto yours over her shoulder. He was watching you, searching for some sort of reaction, and the more irritated you looked, the longer they kissed. In fact, if it hadn’t been for someone calling for the girl to come play the next round of beer pong, you were almost positive they would’ve fucked in front of you. Finally, their mouths parted, a filthy string of saliva connecting them before the girl skipped away, leaving the two of you alone once again. You took the rest of your drink to the head as Caleb continued studying you, a shit-eating grin painted across his face, his hair ruffled from her fingers running through it, the print of his dick evident in those sweatpants.
You poured another drink—brown liquor and some soda.
“Sorry, we got interrupted. You were saying something earlier, right?” he asked. It was as if the earlier performance had never taken place.
“Mmh, well yeah. You got a little busy there for a second, I guess. A new addition to your brothel?”
“Jealous?” You immediately scrunched your face in response.
“I’m just asking because it would be crazy for you to be jealous, you know, considering uhhh—the whole you cheating on your boyfriend with me thing, right?” You nodded in agreement, but Caleb noticed the way your nostrils flared when he said it.
“There’s really nothing to be jealous of, though, is there? I would have to actually like you to get jealous, Caleb, and if I haven’t made it clear by now, I don’t like you. You’re a good fuck, but that’s about it.”
“Oh wow, just ‘good?’” You nodded again, stomach now in knots, either from the recent production that had just taken place or from the cheap alcohol on an empty stomach.
“Really? So, you don’t think about me when you’re with your boyfriend, right? Like when he’s inside of you, you’re not closing your eyes to imagine it’s me. I mean, I guess it would be hard to—after all, you always seem to mention how I’m so much bigger than he is.”
"I've never said that." You rolled your as as you replied.
"No? I could've swore you said, 'Oh my god, daddy, you're stretching me out so good.' Then I said, 'Does your boyfriend fuck you this good, baby?' And then you said... damn, I don't wanna mince words. I think it was, 'No one fucks me better than you, your dick is so big you're so much bigger. I can barely take it.' Blah blah blah. That was just the last time, by the way. Should I recount a few others? Hmm let me see, there was that one time where you--" You had to cut off the monologue that was about to ensue.
“Caleb, I don’t think about you, ever. I’m glad you’ve found someone—really, she’s quite classy.” He leaned back against the countertop as he surveyed your body language once more. You were far from convincing. You were jealous, and it was obvious and illogical, but it was true, nonetheless.
“I think about you, y’know.” The smirk was gone, replaced by an expression that you hadn’t really seen before, almost like he meant it.
“When I’m with other girls, I mean—I think about you. The way your eyes roll back into your head when I slide my fingers inside of you, or the way you whine and beg when I slow down to make you beg me. I think about the way you feel, how your mouth is always so warm and so—so fucking wet when you suck my dick. It keeps me up at night sometimes.” A wave of silence fell over the two of you, your eyes searching his now. He’d never said anything like that before. In fact, unless he was looking for something filthy to say in bed, he never brought up your boyfriend or any of the members of his personal harem at all. At first, it was just sex, but then it turned into staying for another round, or do you wanna order something to eat? Before you knew it, the two of you would fall asleep in each other’s beds. It was complicated, to say the least.
“Right. Well, what about your little girlfriend?”
“What about her? She’s something to do when you decide every two weeks that you’re gonna turn your life around and play the good, dutiful girlfriend. We’re on and off—” His fingers motioned between your bodies. “When me and her are on, it’s only because me and you are off.” Brutal honesty has always been a quality of Caleb's.
“That’s fucking awful, Caleb. Really, I mean, you can’t just keep stringing these girls along if—”
“Are you seriously giving me a fucking lecture right now, like you’re some saint?" He laughed through the words. "You’re the one who's been smiling in your boyfriend’s face for the last year as if every other night you haven’t been fucking me, so don’t tell me about right and wrong, alright? If I’m so awful, then what does that make you?” It was true. You were no better than Caleb was at the end of the day, and that thought was beyond unsettling. You wanted to say something back, give a witty rebuttal, but the words were caught in your throat. He had never thrown it back in your face like this before, and an overwhelming wave of emotions came over you once he did.
He knew he had gone a little too far when you didn’t even bother to argue with him, but those words had been building in his chest for months now, and before he knew it, they’d slipped out. You tossed your cup into the trash can and walked in the opposite direction. You couldn’t even hear the sound of your heels clicking against the wooden floors as you paced down the hallway, desperately searching for whatever bedroom the host of this party had used as the designated coat closet for the evening.
Just as you thought you had spotted a familiar door, though, you felt a warm hand grip your wrist, pulling you into another room, shutting the door before flipping on the light switch. It was the same tall figure, Ghostface mask back on. Your heart was beating out of your chest as he cornered you until your back was against the door, his body glued to yours. His knee was between your thighs as he leaned down to meet your ear.
“Don’t—please, don’t walk away from me again.” It was a plea, his voice clear through the plastic mask which he’d only bothered putting back on, so none of his whores knew it was him going down the same hallway as you.
“Caleb, I’m serious. I can’t do this with you anymore. This is wrong. I can’t keep—”
“I know, but just… just let me touch you one last time, then, yeah? Let me make you feel good one more time before you go.” It was horrible, really, the way you were squirming against him as his hand slowly slid under the bottom of your skirt. There was nowhere to hide; the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom quickly cut through the little buzz that you had.
“You can tell me to stop, and I will.” He always said that. In fact, it seemed like the one time he wasn’t joking around was whenever he said that.
“I know,” you whispered. His index finger halted just against the hem of your panties, right where your thigh meets your hip.
“Tell me what you want, baby.” He could feel you tremble beneath his touch, little gasps leaving your lips as his fingers danced along your skin.
“Please. Please touch me.” He hummed with approval.
“‘Please touch me,’ who?” He wasn’t being smug now or doing it to tease you; he just needed to hear it one last time.
“Please, Caleb, touch me.” He did.
“Oh my god. You’re so fucking wet for me, huh? When did that happen, princess?” This was a new nickname, probably liquor-induced, or maybe your costume inspired the creativity.
“I— I don’t know.” That was a lie. He took his time sliding his finger along your slit, your wetness making it hard for him to concentrate.
“No? You sure it wasn’t when you saw me kissing her? When I was looking at you while I grabbed her, when I was—shit—thinking about your fucking body when I touched her.” All you could do was whine, terrified that any sounds above a certain decibel would be heard through the door.
“You gonna let me taste you, pretty girl, hm? Can I taste what a big fucking mess you’ve been making for me all night?” You nodded fervently, desperately hoping that he would follow through with the offer, but he didn’t. Instead, he placed his free hand against the hollow of your neck, your throat so little in his grasp that he could almost wrap his fingers all the way around you.
“Speak,” he commanded as his middle finger slid past your entrance without warning. You bit your lip to hold back the nasty moan that was almost released.
“I wanna feel your mouth, please.”
“Aw, look at you, using your manners. There she is—my perfect girl. You gonna be good for daddy?” His fingers were so deep, curling just right inside of you, his entire palm rubbing against your clit with every thrust.
“Yes, daddy. I promise, just please—go faster.” You heard a light chuckle escape the mask at your request.
“Faster? What, like this?” He sped up, so good and so deep, just how you liked it. He had learned your body so well, learned exactly what gets you off, and if it was up to him, he’d make you cum over and over again just to hear the pretty noises you’d make.
“Oh wow, princess. You’re getting so fucking tight around my fingers—you gonna cum already?” A string of desperate pleas left your lips.
“Yeah? Yeah, are you sure you wanna cum? You think you deserve it, baby?” He was whispering so sweetly in your ear. You were so close—painfully close, and Caleb knew it. Two more seconds and you were about to cum—so he pulled his hand away. Just before he could whine in protest, his grip on your neck tightened, his other palm slamming back down against your clit simultaneously.
“Ow, what the fuck is your problem?” It was louder than you’d intended, but the sudden switch caught you by surprise.
“You didn’t actually think I was gonna let you cum, did you?” He was genuinely amused; a laugh, almost hysterical, erupted from his chest. It wasn’t until right now that you realized, this wasn’t a goodbye fuck, no, this was a revenge fuck. He had you pinned against the door, and no matter how hard you tried, you wouldn’t be able to unwrap your leg from his body, giving him perfect access to your cunt. So, he smacked it again. You shut your eyes together at the sensation.
“Why would you think that I would give you a gift, when you’ve been so mean to me?” he asked. He wasn’t being sarcastic either; this was a genuine question.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” His palm came down against your clit once again.
“See, wow—there’s that filthy mouth I’m so used to. Y’know, you always say how bad you feel for doing this to your boyfriend—how it keeps you up at night because you just feel so terrible, but do you ever think about what you’ve done to me?” he asked. Now you were really confused.
“It makes me sick to think about him touching you—touching what belongs to me,” he continued.
“You don’t own me, Caleb.”
“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure this—" he said, hand cupping your pussy entirely, the pressure on your clit forcing you to push against him. “This fucking pussy is mine. It seems like she’s who controls this body, huh? Not your brain.”
“See—you’re fucking humping my hand all on your own. I’m not even doing anything anymore. Is that something that someone who isn’t controlled by their pussy would do?” It was true. You weren’t trying to, but it was like you were drawn to his touch, the two of you clinging together like magnets as you desperately tried to get some sort of relief.
“Whose pussy is this?” He tightened his grip on your throat a little more, jerking your head to force your gaze back on him. The whole thing was so fucked up—you writhing against him, his hand under your skirt, and he still hadn’t even bothered to take the mask off.
“Fucking answer me or I’m gonna make you get caught.” Before you could even ask what he meant by that, his hand came down on your cunt harder than before, forcing you to let out a scream. You reached up to cover your mouth, but he stopped you in your tracks. “Don’t move your fucking hands or I’ll slap your clit harder. Tell me who owns this little hole, huh?” He noticed your hands freeze in submission as he rolled his thumb around your clit, gently soothing the ache.
“You do—shit. It’s your pussy,” you whimpered in defeat.
“Yeah? What about these, huh?” He let your throat go before roughly reaching into the top of your costume, his hand pulling one of your tits out. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and middle fingers, not shy about pinching it at all.
“These mine too? Last time we—fuck—“ he slid a finger back inside your cunt. “Last time we fucked, you said you wanted my babies. It made me so hard. Thinking about these pretty fucking tits getting so full if you were pregnant, y’know. After you went home that night, I jerked off thinking about it. I just know, you’d look so cute… pregnant with my babies—tits full of milk. Would you let me taste it, princess?” You couldn’t even think clearly anymore. The feeling of the pad of his finger rubbing against your g-spot made your mouth hang open—Caleb thought it was cute how pathetic you looked.
“Yes, yes, I would. I would let you because they’re yours—your tits, please don’t stop.”
“Oh yeah? I don’t know if I believe you, baby. You think you can convince me?” He slid his finger back out, rubbing his entire palm against your clit, reveling in the way you had to try so hard to stay quiet.
“Get on your knees.” Before you knew it, he took his hand out of your panties, leaving nothing but the wet fabric to rub against you. One by one, he watched as the soft skin of your knees touched the cool tile beneath you, your eyes wide and watery, thighs pressing together in agony.
“Kiss my dick.” You reached for the waistband of his pants before he grabbed both of your wrists in his hand, forcing them above your head against the door.
“Did I tell you to take it out or did I tell you to kiss it?”
“You said to kiss it.”
“Right—what a smart girl for daddy. So go ahead and kiss it.” He took a step closer to you, your knees between his legs, his clothed cock so close to your lips. You placed a soft kiss against the fabric.
“Mmh, good job, baby. Now lick it for me.” You whined at the request.
“Please just…” The words were caught in your throat.
“Just what, baby, huh? Tell daddy what you want.”
“Please just take it out. I want to taste you so bad.” He couldn’t help but stifle a moan at the familiar sight, you beneath him, begging to suck his dick.
“But you don’t deserve it, baby. If you’re not mine, then I’m not yours either.” He took another step forward, forcing your head against the door completely now. “This is how I treat my toys, huh? The girls that you always bitch about seeing me with—this is how I fuck them. This is what it feels like to not belong to me. It’s what you wanted, so fucking lick my dick through my pants.” You did, sticking your tongue out flat against him, leaving a wet trail behind. You could tell he was forcing himself to be quiet, but all you wanted was to hear him moan.
“Again. Make out with it, baby, come on. Maybe I’ll use your throat if you do a good job for me.” You left kisses and spit all over every inch of his clothed crotch as he kept you pinned against the door.
“Does it not feel good? You’re so quiet,” you whispered between kisses. He took his free hand to reach down and grab your face, forcing your gaze on him.
“It does feel good, baby. But I have to be quiet because I’m punishing you. I know it makes your cunt so fucking sloppy when I moan for you, right? So that’s why I’m not doing it.” He freed your wrists, kneeling in front of you on the tile, his other hand still on your cheeks.
“Turn around.” It wasn’t much of a request, really, so you did. By now, both of your tits were hanging out of the dress, your panties barely concealing anything after being pulled to the side before. You felt his hand slip beneath your skirt again before he straightened out the fabric, covering your pussy fully now. Before you could fully comprehend how odd this was, you felt something warm between your thighs. It slipped in and out, brushing ever so lightly against your clit—it was unmistakably his cock.
“You didn’t think—mmh—" he took a beat to continue, forcing himself to swallow his moans. “You didn’t think I was going to fuck you, did you?” His hands made their way to your hips, gripping them so tightly that it stung.
“Bend over for me, princess. Elbows on the ground.” You wanted to protest, but he tightened his grip on your hips when he felt you hesitate, so you did as he asked. Your ass was in the air; a smooth arch left in your back as you got on all fours.
“Now see—this is just fucking pathetic, really. I mean, do you want me to play with you that bad, baby?” He wasn’t going to move until you agreed, and you both knew it.
“Please… use me.” The shit that was coming out of your mouth would’ve been shocking if you’d said it to your boyfriend, but Caleb knew that getting you like this was inevitable. He wasted no time, sliding himself against the fabric of your panties again, his balls rubbing against your tulle skirt as he grinded into you.
“Repeat after me, pretty girl. Say ‘thank you, daddy.’” You spat it back out verbatim. He pushed one of his hands against your spine, forcing you down even further.
“Say ‘I’m sorry for being such a slut.’” You did.
“Say ‘I don’t deserve to feel daddy inside of me.’” Wait, what? Was he actually still not going to fuck you? He reached forward to grab your face once again, pushing your cheeks together in his grip.
“Fucking say it,” he demanded, almost growling.
“Caleb… please. I need—"
“I don’t really give a fuck what you need, if I’m honest, baby. Toys don't have needs, right? This isn't about you, right now. You just wanna fuck me, well this is what it's like when you fuck me instead of me fucking you. Make sense?” His fingers slid past your lips, forcing themselves towards the back of your throat as he kept grinding into you like he was fucking a pillow. You gagged against his hand, drool sliding down his wrist.
“You make a mess, you’re gonna be the one cleaning it up, princess.” You were, indeed, making a mess; a pool of spit had now formed beneath you.
“Fuck, this cunt is so warm, even through your little panties, baby, I can still feel how messy you are for me. You wanna feel daddy cum on your pussy, huh?” You were basically panting now, your hand limply wrapped around Caleb’s wrist. You tried to speak against his fingers, but it was useless.
“Huh? What’s that, sweet girl? You do want me to cum all over these pretty fucking panties? Are you sure? I mean, if I cum now, then I’m not sure I’ll have the energy to fuck you later.” You tried to protest, but you were so muffled that the words were indistinguishable.
“Fuck, okay, baby. Whatever you want. Come on, princess, rub yourself on daddy so he can cum for you. Come on, pretty girl, do a good job for me.” You couldn’t even stop your hips from moving if you wanted to, desperately hoping that if you grinded fast enough, you’d be able to cum too… but it was no use. Just before you were getting to the edge again, he stopped. You knew he was close too, but he was so determined to torture you that he refused to rub against you one second more if it meant you would cum when he didn’t want you to. You were crying at this point, tears staining your face as the frustration finally caught up to you.
“Aw, what? What is it, baby? Did you think I wouldn’t notice you were trying to cum too?” You didn’t even bother to respond at this point.
“I could tell. You were pushing these pretty hips against me so fast, humping me like a little bunny. Really, you’re not so stupid that you thought I couldn’t tell what you were doing, are you?” He slid his fingers out of your mouth, forcing even more of your spit to drip onto the tile. He heard you sniffling over the soft sound of the music blasting in the other room.
“Are you crying, princess? Oh, my sweet girl. Daddy didn’t mean to make you cry. Shhhh… It’s okay, baby. I got you, yeah?” He wrapped his arm around your waist now, leaning you back so you were flat against his chest. You could feel his heart beating erratically against you, his dick flush against your lower back.
“Let me make it up to you, huh? Can you be a big girl and do one more thing for me? I’ll let you cum after, okay? Pinky swear.” He reached for your hand as you shook in his arms, wrapping his little finger around yours. You nodded weakly in agreement.
“Alright, princess.” He slid his fingers across your face, a trail of your own spit coating your skin before reaching around to the back of your head. He grabbed a fistful of your hair as he leaned into the crook of your neck to whisper.
“You see all the drool you got on the floor, baby?” He took his free hand to pull off the mask, and finally, you felt the skin of his cheek against your shoulder. He leaned over you and stuck his tongue out above the floor, forcing a trail of his own saliva to coat the already slick ground. “Lick it up.” You had never seen this side of Caleb before; this almost sadistic energy that he had was foreign. You were waiting for him to laugh or say a punchline because, clearly, he couldn’t have been serious.
“Caleb—that’s so embarrassing.” It was beyond embarrassing. It was actually just gross.
“You’ve been embarrassing yourself all night, though, baby. When you stuffed your face against my cock trying to lick me through my pants—that was embarrassing. Or how about just now when you were calling me daddy and begging me to use you—also embarrassing. What’s one more time?” His logic was ridiculous. He placed a soft kiss on your neck just below your ear. It was the first time you had felt his lips against you all night, and it made you squirm under his touch.
“Show me you can be good one more time and I’ll let you cum in my mouth, yeah?” Probably under any other circumstance, this would not have been enough to sway you, but being edged over and over and over again had made your brain fuzzy, and the only thing you wanted at this point was to cum.
So, you sat up on your knees, Caleb’s hand still against your scalp as he guided your face towards the floor.
“That’s it, baby.” You closed your eyes, the thought of licking saliva off of someone else’s bathroom floor making your stomach turn. Either way, it wasn’t long before your tongue was against the cool tile, lapping up a pool of yours and Caleb’s drool.
“Aw, you’re so fucking nasty for me, huh, princess. Look at you following directions so well. That's it. Eat up all of daddy's spit. Just a little more—you missed a spot.” He guided your head a little to the right, watching as your tongue danced along the tile before he was finally satisfied.
“That’s my girl. You did such a good job for me. You ready for your treat now, princess?” You nodded like an excited puppy.
“Okay, turn around for me, hm. Let me see your pretty face.” You faced him now. Finally seeing his gaze again, skin flushed, pupils dilated, his hair was a mess, but he still looked so fucking good.
“Aw, baby. I’m sorry I had to be mean to you, yeah? No more tears, okay? Lie on your back for me. Let daddy kiss it better.” You wasted no time pressing your back against the wet tile. He laughed at your urgency.
“You need it that bad, princess? Spread your legs for me, let daddy see you,” He grabbed one of your thighs, draping it over his shoulder as his fingers slid your panties to the side once more.
“Baby, she’s so swollen, aw. I’m so sorry. Daddy’s pussy must hurt real bad, huh?” You whined in response as he brought his lips closer to you.
“Yeah? Let me get a better look at the damage.” He spread your lips apart with his thumbs, exposing your hole to him, which had been clenching around nothing for god knows how long at this point.
“Damn, baby. I bet if I just kiss this clit a little, you’d cum so quick, huh?” He did. His lips pressed the softest kiss on your clit before licking one long trail up your slit.
“You taste so needy for me, princess. You need daddy to let you cum, huh? Should I make this pussy cum in my mouth?” A string of praise left your lips, begging him to lick you just a few more times.
“What if I suck on your clit a little bit? You think you can cum like that, baby?” He laughed at the way you whined beneath him, your thighs shaking against his grasp. You felt him spit onto your cunt before licking it back up again.
“You wanna cum for me, sweet girl, hm? Repeat after me again,” He was muffled as he spoke against you, the vibrations from his mouth only bringing you closer.
“Say ‘thank you, daddy for licking my pussy even though I’m an ungrateful brat.’” You didn’t even care anymore. You said it.
“Mhm, now say ‘I promise I won’t be jealous of other girls anymore because daddy doesn’t treat any of them as good as he treats me.’”
“Say ‘daddy eats my pussy so much better than my boyfriend.’”
“Say ‘daddy’s gonna let me cum on his tongue if I say the next thing he tells me to.’”
“Say ‘I’m gonna break up with my boyfriend.’” His mouth stopped moving immediately. You froze beneath him, knowing that this was really what all of this was about.
“And don’t repeat it if it’s a lie, baby.” He whispered against you, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh. You stayed quiet.
“That’s what I thought.” He wasted no time picking his head back up, gently pulling your thigh down off of him.
“Wait, Caleb.”
“Y’know, you’re right. We can’t do this anymore.” He ran the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping the wetness from his face as he stood. You sat up, eyes wide in disbelief.
“Until you get rid of him—I’m never touching you again.” He didn’t laugh or crack a smile. He was dead serious.
“Happy Halloween, princess.” It wasn't a genuine statement, but it wasn't like he sounded sad. No, it was almost a dare, a challenge of some kind. He left you there, sitting on the bathroom floor, panties soaked against you, and he closed the door behind him without looking back.
SYNOPSIS. Caleb's been your best friend and long time crush forever, so when you find yourself trapped in this twisted, deadly game, it's only natural to think he's here to save you. Right?
FEAT. yandere!bestfriend!caleb x crushing!reader
A/N; yeah, this is actually kinda fucked up man... dunno what to say uhhhh... game is game lmaoooo. And yes, I was too lazy to proofread^^🏷️; @potania @applecaviar Enjoy and have a great night/day <333
TAGS. 4.7k. words. DARK/NSFW CONTENT. MDNI! saw like universe. Dubcon. they r both sick in the head. reader has a hugeee crush on caleb. possessive/yandere caleb. missionary. Fingering. virginity loss. pörn with plot. killing game. dirty talk. corruption. heavyyy size k!nk. manipulation. dacryphilia. unprotected intercourse. pussydrunk caleb. breedin. caleb is sooo sick. friends to lovers (if u can even call it that).
SATRS K!NKTOB€R 2025!
Bzzz... Bzzzz... Bzzkkkk!
The buzzing, mechanical hum of a projector is what brings you back to your senses, heavy eyelids slowly lifting.
Goosebumps tickle you all over, a cold, metalic weight clinging to your skin, seated on a suspiciously neat and clean matress. The room is nothing but concrete walls, a rusted drain at the far, dark end, and a single light flickering right above your head.
That's when your nerves connect, a lightning rushing through your brain when you realize, you're not at home anymore. You're somewhere unknown.
Somewhere dangerous.
You bolt upright in panic, the fixed chain tethering you to a metal bar on your ankle, only worsening your rapidly beating heart.
"Pips'! Hey, hey, easyyy, now. It's okay, I'll get us outta here."
You'd recognize this voice anywhere.
Caleb?
Your head whips toward him and there he stands a few feet away, chained as well with no matress on his end, sitting against the opposite wall. His chestnut hair messy, broad chest rising and falling steadily, voice impressively calm.
"C-caleb? What the fuck is going on here?! Where are we?"
He shakes his head, running a hand over his jaw. "No clue. I woke up bare minutes earlier than ya' did. One second I was on my way home from your place, and then—" He trails off, frustratingly gesturing around the sketchy room, huffing out a breath.
Caleb.
Your best friend. The one who always stood between you and the world when it tried to hurt you. The one who carried your backpack when you were too tired, who patched you up after scraped knees, who fought off anyone who dared make you cry.
It's always been that way. Ever since you were kids.
Caleb, your best friend, your anchor in the storm.
And the one you've been hopelessly, stupidly in love with since forever.
You've buried it down deep, lived with it quietly, choosing your friendship over some risky confession. But it's always been there, even in a moment like this, making your chest ache, even in the middle of this waking nightmare.
But the weight of the unknown gnaws at you. Because if not even Caleb knows what's going on, then it's endgame.
Your eyes burn as you wrench at the chains biting into your ankle, skin raw beneath the iron grip. Just what in the hell is going on here? And why you both? And who would—?!
Bzzzz— CLICK!
The old TV in the center of the room sputters awake, its static filling the silence. A warped voice breaks through, echoing across the fractured concrete walls.
"Welcome, players. Tonight, a choice must be made. A choice that decides life or death. The rules are simple. To live, you two must participate in sexual intercourse."
Sexual... intercourse? What kind of sickshow is this?
"Refuse, and carbon monoxcide will fill this room, sealing your fatal fate. Your salvation lies on your shoulders. Act in union to earn your survival."
You laugh. Not out of comedic relief but rather because of the ton of fear flooding through you. It's ridiculous, so ridiculous in fact, that you're unsure if this is really a joke. What if it's real, and you two got kidnapped by some sadistic psycho, getting aroused by watching their victims fuck before killing them?
Your throat tightens, terror crawling up your spine. A prank? A sick reality-show stunt? Please, please let it be. You snap your head to Caleb, praying he'll smirk, roll his eyes, call it bullshit. But he doesn't. His eyes are locked on the screen, brows knit in grim concern.
Oh fuck.
"T-this must be some sick TV-prank. I'm sure—" You try to make light of the situation, you really do. But then the voice continues.
"You have one hour. Fail, and your bodies will rot together in this tomb."
Bzzz... Krk!
Silence swallows the room as the tape cuts.
Your gaze flickers frantically around the room, catching the black eye of a camera in the corner, and the suspicious vents lining the ceiling. Vents that look perfectly capable of flooding this cell with poison.
No joke. No prank. You're fucked. Capital F.
Trembling, you're hugging your knees to your chest, causing Caleb to push straight off the wall, chains rattling as he shifts closer within his limited reach, sitting at the edge of the matress. His eyes lock on you, trying to calm and ground you in a comforting way that makes your racing heart ache even in this nightmare.
"Hey. Pips'. Look at me." And you do, glassy eyes starring up into his big ones, already feeling a little better. "We'll figure this out. Together. I'm not letting anything happen to ya', okay? Everything's gonna be alright."
You nod weakly, though your stomach flips like it's trying to claw its way out. Caleb has always been protective and caring over you. But right now? Right now that protection feels terrifyingly conditional.
"Stay with me. Breathe. In and out— juuust like that."
You obey, shaky but steadying under his command, and of course he notices, praise slipping from his lips like a habit.
"Gooood." His voice dips lower now, and maybe it's just your nerves twisting things, but it lingers in your ears differently than it ever has before. The thought slips away the moment you meet his unyielding gaze, familiar protectivness gleeming behind his iris.
As always.
But your relief cracks the instant you remember what the rules demanded. It's right in your face— a giant clock counting down the hour, that is.
Seconds turn into minutes, minutes stretch like hours. And beneath the terror, the crush you've been carrying for years throbs intense inside your chest, more damning than that ticking clock.
Caleb keeps his breathing steady and calm, watching you with that familiar type of focus. But his gaze lingers a little too long, like he's waiting for something.
"I think they're serious." His voice is quiet though, careful, even. "We've seen shit like this in movies, right, pips'? Whoever's doing this, wants to watch us fall apart."
You shake your head furiously. "No. No, there's no way they can—this can't be the only way. There's gotta be a door, or—" rattling your chain frantically, but it's no use.
Caleb shifts forward on the matress to pull you into his space as far as the chain allows him to, hand settling on your thigh to calm you down.
"Pips'. Listen." His hand squeezes your thigh now to get your attention and, of course it does, "If it comes down to you dying or… well, doing what they want us to then—shit. I'm not letting you die in here. You hear me?"
You nod quickly, too quickly, trying to hide how your pulse leaps just from his touch. And for the briefest moment, you could almost pretend this is another night with just the two of you, sitting a little too close on your couch after a movie, his hand brushing yours and making your heart skip a beat.
Except now there's no couch. Nor a movie.
For so long it's been second nature to bite your tongue, bury the longing under jokes and casual smiles. To swallow every flicker of heat when he'd nudge your shoulder, when his laugh spilled into your ear, when he'd throw that lopsided grin at you.
But here, sealed in these concrete walls with death ticking down on the wall, you're tempted. Tempted to spill the secret you've been trying so hard to take to the grave.
"Caleb, I—"
His thumb strokes along your thigh, his sharp, purple hues pinning you. "Yeah? Something on yer' mind? C'mon, tell me."
It's something, alright.
Swallowing hard, you try to escape his piercing gaze. Tell him what? That you've wanted him for years? That the thought of dying in this shithole without feeling his kiss, or his touch on your naked body makes your chest ache worse than the fear itself?
Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as you shake your head quickly, shrinking in on yourself, arms wrapping around your knees like a shield again. Your forehead drops against them, a wet sniffle slips out before you can hold it, echoing just enough in the silence that you know he heard.
"Nothing," you blurt out, voice muffled against your arms, "It's nothing."
Close. So fucking close.
He almost had you spilling the secret you've been choking on for years. He could see it in you, taste it, even. But no. You just have to fold back into yourself, too shy and too stubborn to finally admit the thing he's been waiting on for years.
Just like you always do.
"It's alright, pips'. We'll be alright."
Did you really think he never noticed the way your hands always shook when they brushed against his, the way you stared a little too long when you thought he wasn't?
Patience. He'd given you so much of it. Years of waiting, of letting you keep the secret he's known all along. He's counted on it, wanted you to be the one to take a step first, give you the space.
No. That shy act just wont do. He won't let you wiggle out this time. Not after he worked so fucking hard for this.
"I'll take care of you," his smooth tone reels you in, head lifting to lock onto his gaze, "If doing this is the only way out, then I'll make it as easy as I can for you."
Cheeks burning under his gaze, you force yourself to look away, because if you don't, he might see it. He might finally realize that him being your first is everything you've ever dreamed of.
But oh, you foolish girl. He already knows. Always has.
Because Caleb's been planning— scheming, playing the role of the big protective best friend for years, scaring off every guy who so much as looked at you, weaving excuses, subtle threats, every trick he needed to keep you untouched. Safe.
Because you deserved so much better than those jerks. You deserve someone like him.
The weight of his words knots in your chest, suffocating almost, because you've never been with anyone, and he knows that.
You told him once, years ago, in a moment where both of you were high off the blunt, his comfortable presence making you feel a tad bit bold. And he's clutched it close ever since, like a secret talisman, guarding it, making sure no one else could ever claim you first.
And now the thought of your first time happening here, like this, under the eyes of some sick stranger—
Tears sting at your lashline, a fat lump forming in your throat. You don't want this. Not like this. But the ticking clock's still lingering behind your thoughts.
You don't want to die here either.
Caleb's thumb traces slow, soothing circles into your thigh, hypnotic rhythm getting to you as your clenching thigh relaxes in his hold, "It doesn't have to be scary. You trust me, don'tcha?"
A sob catches before you can swallow it down, but you nod anyway. Because you do. You always have.
"Good girl."
Words sliding out of him like a sigh, almost too reliefed. Almost. His lips twitch into a fleeting smirk before settling back into his mask of calm reassurance.
But inside he's swelling with triumph. He's been waiting for this, for you to stop hiding behind shyness, stop pretending your best friend act and finally expose your secret crush.
Caleb's been watching it bloom in you for years, feeding it with subtle brushes of his thigh to yours, quick, seemingly innocent kisses to the cheek or even nicknames best friends shouldn't be calling eachother.
"You gotta say it, baby", his gaze locked to your lips, desperate and hungry to just devour you whole, "Say ya' trust me. Say it, and I'll take reallll good care of you."
And it's strange that you almost obey, because the red flag should've been raised here, but you open your mouth anyway, ready to finally dig out the burden you've been carrying for so long.
But before the words can leave you, the TV in the corner blinks to life again and the warped voice drones the same lines you've already heard, over and over again.
It's a loop.
Your stomach drops.
"…Caleb," you whisper, dread clawing through your veins as you stare at the screen, "It's a loop. They prerecorded everything."
He follows your gaze and for a beat, his face unreadable. Then he shrugs, too casual for your liking, "Maybe they didn't bother making it live."
Unease twists your gut. He's way too calm, way too composed. And just as you were about to look at him, you saw that menacing smirk for real this time. You know you did.
"How can you be so calm about this? We have to get going and look for a way out, Cay'. Let's start with these stupid chains."
Just as your hand wraps around the chain on your ankle, his firm hand abandons your thigh and clasps over yours to stop, hold too strong to be anything but suspicious.
"Pips', don't hurt'cha little head overthinking it."
Where is his sudden turn coming from? This is strange. Really fucking strange.
That's when you see that the chain around his leg isn't even locked. And it probably never was.
Your head whips toward him, but he's already watching you intently, eyes sharp and gleaming with odd possesiveness that you can't muster, his lips curling into an oddly soft smile that doesn't add up to his alarming gaze at all.
Caleb. It's him. He's behind all this.
Crawling from his grasp, your back hits the cold concrete as Caleb follows you suit, your hands digging into the matress below as you shake your head in disbelief.
"C-Caleb, don't tell me you're behind all this."
Would your Caleb, your best friend, the one you've loved and known for so long really go this far? Lock you up for his selfish gain?
No, you refuse to believe it.
"Shhhhh, it's alright, don't run from me, love." Tall frame hovering above you now, his knees dig into the matress as his palm cups your cheek, thumb brushing away tears you hadn't realized were spilling.
"You're not scared, are you? M' here, your Caleb's here. Nothing will happen to ya'— there's no real camera, no toxic gas. But you'll just have to trust me here, pips'."
"Trust you?" your voice breaks, "W-what are you on about? Please just tell me you have nothing to do with this. Please, Cay'."
He ignores your question, only leaning closer, commanding voice now in the familiar softness you've known to love, "Tell me ya' trust me, baby. Tell me, and I'll get ya' outta here."
Now it hits you like a fist to the gut.
"Get me out? So you've known how to get out of here all along and set up this fake killing game? You locked me up here, didn't you? This is—this is insane! You're—"
The word sticks in your throat because you can't say it. You can't brand him a monster, call him a sick fuck for all of this despite the clear picture.
"Guess the game's up."
Your body goes weak, because every last bit of hope is shattered now. You've hoped for him to just deny it, explain himself and not prove your suspicions right.
"You really did this?", you whisper more to yourself than him, flinching as the now free man tip-toes his fingers along your arm, humming in agreement.
"Guiltyyy."
He eases back just enough to let his gaze wander over your shaking body, halting just a moment at your exposed shoulder, where the string of your top slid down your arm.
"Told you not to overthink it, but my girl can't help it, can she? Always trying to put the pieces together. That's what made me so obsessed with ya', my smart girl."
This can't be real.
"Caleb, this is wrong—"
"Ya' know what's wrong?" Interrupting, his lashes lower as his gaze cuts into you, "That you kept me waiting all these years. That you hid how badly you wanted me when I was right there, ready to take care of you. Ready to love you. But no. You had to be stubborn and swallow it all down."
The TV clicks off, the countdown silenced with a flick of his wrist, "It's a shame, really. That I had to go this far."
And to your own shock, you feel oddly at ease. It isn't a real death game, thank the heavens. You're not going to die here.
But still, the reality still shocks you to the core.
"I was... scared."
"Scared of what? Rejection? " His scoff is bitter, but his hand softens where it rests on your arm, slightly squeezing it, "Tch. Yer' fucking kidding."
At his words memories surface, strange little things you always brushed off before. The way your best friend's jaw always clenched when another guy so much as looked at you. Or the half-joking, half-serious offer to 'help you get that first kiss out of the way.' You'd never pieced it together. Or maybe you had, but simply brushed it off as impossible. Because, what are the odds that your huge crush happend to be mutual?
You should be disgusted. Terrified, even. You should slap his hand away and try to get out of this insanity and far, far away from him. Instead, heat boils up in your stomach, the realization sickly making your heart flutter in a way that feels wrong.
He likes you. Wants you. And he's willing to… to be your first?
This must be a fever dream.
"Caleb…" Your body moves before your mind can catch up, crawling the tiny distance toward him, heart hammering as you close the gap until your face is just a breath away from his, tears still wet on your cheeks, but your gaze fixated on him. "I trust you."
Glee of joy behind his pupils as he catches your chin, eyes searching yours as his thumb drags across your bottom lip, pressing until you part for him, smashing his mouth onto yours. It's hungry in the way his tongue swrils into your mouth, kissing you like he's been holding himself back for years.
Which he has.
You don't even notice the faint click! as the chain around your ankle slackens, falling uselessly to the floor. And when he pulls back just enough to gawk at your dazed expression in awe, you catch the faint glint of a key between his fingers before he tosses it aside. He'd had it all along.
The taste of him makes your head spin. You moan right into his mouth as his other hand fists in your hair to hold you close.
"Finally, alllll mine now," he mumbles against your jaw now, trailing kisses down your throat, biting playfully. His hand drags down your front, slipping under your shirt, flicking your perked nipples, until his fingers tease the edge of your waistband. "Let me take care of ya', yeah?"
Your hips buck when his hand dips lower, sliding between your thighs, one finger pressing against your soaked panties, circling lazily patterns riiiight onto your clit and you squeak, hips twisting and turning.
And god, it feels so much better than all those nights you spent alone in your room, rubbing your needy little button under the covers, whispering his name into your pillow, imagining what his hands might feel like.
Well, now you know.
"That's it," Praise spilling as he sucks your collarbone, his voice dripping with pride, "My baby wants it bad, huh? Been holding out on me?"
"Mhmmm, wanted this for sooo long, Cay'." Your voice breaks as his fingers slip past the cotton, running through your slick folds before plunging one thick digit inside, stretch making your back arch off into his chest.
"Awww, tight lil' cunny," Kissing down your chest, he's mouthing over your shirt until he pushes it up right over your tits, groaning at the sight, "Gotta split you open, ya' hear? Make sure this perfect pussy cums 'round my fingers."
Another finger joins, curling until your hand shoots down, curling around his busy wrist as you feel him reach that sweet spot you've never got to grasp with your own small digits.
Your sniffles make his dick twitch in his pants, rutting his hips against the matress as he eagerly works you open, peppering kisses over your breasts, tongue flicking a nipple before he whines, sucking it hard into his mouth.
"So beautiful," he's pulling back just enough to see your tear-stained face, hips twitching as you chase every rub of his pads against that sweet, tender spot inside you, "Big girl's taking it soooo well."
You can barely breathe, hips rocking against his hand as you feel your stomach twist from the inside out, the praise sinking way deeper than the stretch.
Thighs quivering as you rock helplessly against his hand, walls fluttering around him as your hands grasp at his bicep, high-pitched cries of yours indicating that you're—
"Fuckkk, gonna cum 'round my fingers just like that, baby?"
"Y-yes, think m'— nghhh!"
Hands now clawing at his tensing biceps, other hand yanking his hair to earn a broken whimper in return, tension building tight in your belly until you can't take it anymore.
"Don't think about anything. Js' be a good girl f' me and cum, yeah?"
"Ohhh-kay! Hnghh! Cay'! Cay'!"
Your cum gushes all over his hand and shirt, pussy spasming and biting down hard on his finger, refusing to let go. It's all to much as his wrist wont stop slap slap slapping against you, heel of his palm smacking your clit so cruelly, tears begin to blur your vision, rolling down your cheeks as you ride out your violent orgasm.
You still cling to him, sniffing away as you watch him pull his fingers free, shining with your cum, smearing them over your clit, making you shriek, just to curl his mouth around them right after, humming in delight at your taste.
"F-fuckkk, wanna taste you more, but—" he stops just to suckle the last remains of you right onto his greedy tastebuds, whining in impatience, "can't wait, I can't—"
Blurry eyes of yours observe him undoing his pants at damn near lightning speed, tugging his boxers down his massive imprint, and your eyes widen as his fat cock springs free, flushed tip slapping onto his abdomen, leaking pre.
Your thighs press together instinctively, because he's so much bigger than you imagined in your midnight fantasies. He just chuckles, firm hand clapping around your knee to spread your legs apart. "Ohhh, no, no, don't hide away now. Said you trusted me, so yer' gonna let me in, yeah?"
You nod, shy as you look up at him like a lost lamb, and it does his throbbing cock no good because now he holds it at the base, wildly jumping, turning painfully red.
"Wan' you, Cay'. P-please."
It's time, it's finally time. His excitement is etched across his face, every breath uneven, every muscle twitching impatiently. And it's evident with his hung cock.
"Yes, Yes. Gonna give it to ya' pips'—," blabbering and lining his flushed tip right at your drenched pussy, his head hangs low as he rubs the thick head round and 'round your hole, groaning as you clench right on his slit. "Gonna stretch your tiny pussy so gooood."
Staying true to his word he pushes in slooooowly, stopping once your stretched cunny clamps on his bulky head, making you gasp and claw at his shoulders instantly.
"Fuh-fuck! T-too big, Cay'! I c-can't— ouuhhh!" but he shushes you, kissing your tears away, murmuring praise against your lips as he forces your poor cunny to swallow him some inches deeper.
"You can, baby. I know ya' can. A-aaaalmost there, pips'— s-shittttt! Doin' perfect f' me."
Your body shudders as you take another inch, and he sinks even deeper until he's halfway in, your walls fluttering frantically around his massive girth. You're so damn full, stretched so wide, and he's not even all the way in yet.
You whine, huffing and puffing out breaths as your eyes scrunch shut, "Don't think I can take it, Cay'. T-too much."
"Relaxxx, baby. C'mon, lemme innnn," his voice is whiny, desperate to feel your impossible tight clench down to his base, his lip caged between his teeth, trying to hold himself back from slamming right into you.
Caleb cups the back of your knee now, pushing it higher, spreading you wider so he can force in another inch, burn flaring overwhelmingly inside you, the way his thick cock throbs inside you making your head spin.
"A-already halfway— h-hahhh!— in," he croons, though his voice breaks halfway, sweat beading on his temple as he fights to keep pushing in slowly. His free hand strokes over your belly, tapping right under your belly button, "G-gotta be right here, ya' see? Gonna plug my perfect girl up."
His jaw drops once your pussy stutters around him, your nails ranking down his slick back as he pushes deeper until you feel the blunt head nudge at your gummy sweet spot, his pre sticking to it like glue, filling you to the brim.
Trail of faint brown hair tickle you clit, your pussy now completely swallowing him to the base, head hanging low in your neck, biting down your shoulder to keep himself from moving.
"Goooood job, baby. Took all of me deep inside ya'," He kisses your cheek, hissing at another claw down his now red back, his hand pressing down firmly onto your belly, earning a loud wail from you.
"Told ya' m' gonna be right. here."
"O-oh god, Caleb! M' so fuckin' full! So—"
"Damn right."
Then he starts to move, dragging his cock out slowly until you desperatly cling to his tip, then pludges back in deep, each thrust wringing whimpers from your throat and pushing you further up the matress.
"F-fuck! Pussy 's squeezin' the life outta me," Caleb groans, voice damn near breaking, "Yer' mine. Your first a-and last, you hear?"
"M' yours! All yours, Cay'! Love you! S-so much!"
Every thrust gets dangerously close to your cervix, your body now on fire from the pool of pleasure sitting in your belly, his weight pinning you down, hips rolling with a rhythm that has you sniffing through tears of pleasure.
"Mhmmm, love ya' more than you can imagine, baby. Nobody else gets you like this," stealing another whimper from your lips he's quick to swallow with his mouth, his hips stutter, balls drawing up tight, "Just me. Lil' virgin cunny 's all stuffed with my cock now."
Stars explode behind your eyes as his tip tries to squeeze through the entrance of your womb, familiar tension in your belly coiling impossibly tight until you're sobbing into his shoulder.
"C-Caleb—oh shiiiit!—it's so fuckin' good! So good! M' gonna cum again!"
"Uh huhhhh, you better."
Eyes wild, his rhythm falters as he pounds into your gushing pussy, pelvis slapping against your clit, one hand smacking your thigh with pure excitement, "Fuckin' cum on your cock. 'S alllll yours, baby. C'mon, make a mess f' me."
Just like that, you're gone.
The tight knot in your belly snaps with force, your whole body seizing around him as you scream without sound, cunt gripping him in desperate, milking spasms, soaking him in your essence as your hips buck up into his.
It's all too much for him.
Your tears, cries, and the way you viciously trap his cock drives him into insanity and right over the edge.
"Ohhhh fuck fuck fuck! Shiiiit— Gonna shoot it right into ya'."
He's burried deep as his heavy balls shoot ropes after ropes of thick cum into you, overflowing your poor pussy.
"D-did so well, pips'. Love you so much, my perfect girl."
Chest still heaving, every nerve inside you is in shock, his cock pumping the last whisps of his whites into you. His groans fade into weak breaths, grip on your hips staying iron clad, terrified of the idea you'd slip away.
You don't know if it's the tears on your cheeks or the haze of pleasure fogging your head, but you dwell in the tender words he whispers.
That you're his perfect girl. That he loves you. That you're his now.
"My sweet, sweet, pips'. All mine."
And you don't flinch at the claim, melting under it as your lips curl into a weak smile, nudging your nose against his.
After all the years of longing, you finally have him. And he's got it all wrong. You're not his.
Need help with household chores? Want a friend to come home to and talk about your day with? Need to let off some steam with a good fuck? Our android companion is perfect for you! Only for the low, low sale price of $4,999.99!
⋆.˚ CW — 18+ MDNI, smut, android!Caleb, shy!reader, alcohol, a non-consensual kiss at the beginning but the smut is 100% consensual, yearning, a bit of angst, masturbation, Caleb's arm as a vibrator, fingering, multiple orgasms, crying (but sexy), overstim
⋆.˚ NOTES — welcome to the 2nd week of kinktober! I had lots of fun writing this one so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did :3
“Ugh, fuck this,” you groan, tossing your tiny, pink vibrator to the side, not caring when it goes too far and flies off your bed. You're way too inebriated and sexually frustrated to give a damn.
Your arm aches and as the pulse slowly fades between your legs, you come to the conclusion that you can't come tonight. Fingers, vibrator, dildos, none of them seem to work on you. It's been like this for weeks. You don't know if it's stress or if there's just something wrong with you.
Your nightly routine tonight consisted of kicking off your heels and settling down with a bottle of wine before bed. You were hoping the wine would help you relax and then you'd be able to come. But, that plan has proved to be a bust.
You pull your panties back up and grab your phone off the nightstand. There are a few notifications from social media, a friend asking if you wanted brunch tomorrow, and what looks like a spam email.
FROM: EVER. CO
SALE SALE SALE: EVER CO. COMPANION BOT, CALEB!
You squint at your phone screen. A mix of alcohol and the late hour convinces your curiosity into clicking the email.
You vaguely remember browsing EVER’s website a few weeks ago out of curiosity. Their companion bots are supposed to be the very best, cutting edge tech, designed to be anything you want—a friend, family, lover, anything at all.
At first, you thought the idea of buying an android was a complete waste of money. You've seen them around the city, either doing errands on their own or walking hand-in-hand with their human partners. When they smile politely at you with their lightless eyes, it sends nothing but chills down your spine.
While checking out their website, you scrolled through the ‘build-a-bot’ section to ridicule the stupid features people pay extra to install.
Seriously, who pays a hundred extra dollars for a bigger dick installation and extra stamina?
It was an amusing browse that lasted for an hour, and you thought that's all it would be—an hour of entertainment you wouldn't think about ever again.
But now you're staring into the violet eyes of the most handsome man android you've ever seen, with eyes somehow reflecting so much life and charm, drawing you in the longer you gaze. He looks less like the typical androids you normally see and that has you intrigued.
Meet Caleb (model no. X-02), EVER’s latest android companion, tailor made to be your perfect partner! He's the boy next door, an attentive lover, the adrenaline junkie that will take you on the ride of your life.
You scan through his bio that lists characteristics, even habits that seem to bring him to life. He loves building model airplanes, hates cilantro, dreams of becoming a pilot, etc.
It reads less like a sales pitch and more like a dating profile. And somehow, he's checking off all your boxes. He really does seem tailor made for you. It's almost creepy.
This Caleb companion is not fit for additional installations or modifications.
So, you can't pay for extra stamina and a twelve inch dick? What a shame. You could really use that right now.
It doesn't help that there’s a shirtless photo of Caleb in bed with his thumb hooking around the band of his sweat pants, gazing up at the camera with a seductive smirk.
The ache between your legs returns annoyingly and you groan, scrolling away before you find your hands down your pants for another useless session.
Price mark down! 80% off! Get him today for the low, low price of $4,999.99!
You whistle, “that's pretty cheap.”
Considering the average, high quality android these days costs $30k and up, you're looking at a bargain—or at least, that's what your tipsy and horny addled mind tells you. But there's no way an android from EVER, a top selling android competitor, is selling a new model this low. There has to be a catch.
You try reading the finer details, but the tiny words just blend together. Somehow the only details you manage to catch are ‘passionate lover', ‘extra stamina pack included’, and ‘six vibrating arm modes’. You're extra intrigued by that last detail.
The add to cart button is clicked without a second thought. Purchasing is a simple, familiar process. Inputting your name, card information, address is muscle memory at this point.
You only realize what you just did when the EVER logo pops up on your screen with a purchase confirmation number.
Buyers remorse kicks in as you stare at the screen. This is probably one of the most embarrassing purchases you've ever made, solely driven by the fact that you're unbearably sexually frustrated and horny for some super hot, discount android.
Before you can figure out how to cancel your order, you notice an audio message attached to the thank you message.
“Thanks for choosin’ me. I can't wait to meet you.” A voice, presumably Caleb’s, says. Even his voice is hot. There's a sweet charm to it, playful and alluring all at once. “Fill out the questionnaire below to help me learn how I can please you.”
The questions range from basic tasks you'd like help with to how frequent you want him to initiate sex. You answer with complete honesty, thanks to the wine.
By the time you finish the seemingly endless and thorough questionnaire, your eyes are drooping until you eventually nod off, dreaming of violet eyes and that low voice whispering filthy things in your ears.
—
It takes Caleb two weeks to arrive at your door.
The delivery man asks for your signature, carts a six foot crate into your living room, and leaves without much fanfare. Though, you suppose these days, delivering androids isn't an uncommon occurrence.
You stare at the intimidating crate. It still hasn't registered that there's an android in your living room. In the two weeks leading up to this moment, you tried pushing it to the back of your mind. It is already embarrassing enough to admit that you bought one out of desperation, but to have it be a reality… you don't know what to expect once you crack open the box.
It takes thirty minutes for you to breathe through your anxieties and start cutting open all the zip ties and tape wrapped around the box. You're greeted by a thick user manual and wall of styrofoam casing when you peel open the top.
You take the manual, a full body scan of Caleb is on it, and flip it open.
EVER Co. thanks you for your purchase! We hope you enjoy your new Caleb companion. Please refer to this user guide to help you get started.
You skim through the instructions, tapping your fingers against the pages as you worry your lower lip between your teeth.
To switch on your companion, hold down the POWER button located on your companion’s sternum for 3 seconds. Your companion will lead you through the next steps after powered on.
There's a diagram next to the text, illustrating where Caleb’s power button is. You pull off the styrofoam mold, tossing it to the corner of your living room, and beneath is Caleb’s sleeping—tecnically powered off—form.
It hits you all at once that he's real and… so human-like.
Your fingers graze over his cheek. He's neither cold nor warm to the touch, but he's not pallid. There's a glow to his skin, kissed by sun. When you press a finger into his cheek, the flesh gives way like any would. You half expected him to be solid, cold metal beneath your hands.
He’s bundled up in a jacket with blue and orange accents and black sweater beneath. You tug down his collar, spying a silver chain around his neck that leads down to some dog tags with his name and model number engraved on it. You feel against his solid chest for the button. It's a small indent in the middle of his sternum, nearly indiscernible to the eye, but you feel it beneath your finger and push down.
The seconds pass and you hear a low hum like fans buzzing to life beneath his skin. When you lift off the button it takes only a second for his eyes to snap open, staring blankly at the ceiling.
You dare yourself to inch closer, searching for signs of cognition. He doesn't stir. You're almost afraid you've already broken him somehow. You wave your hand over his face, wondering if you have to give him something to focus on.
Once, twice—you move your hand, and after the third pass his eyes are suddenly on yours. You squeal, falling back on your behind before scrambling off the floor, straightening out your clothes.
What a great first impression…
He keeps his eyes on you as if he's assessing you, picking you apart piece by piece to figure out what makes you tick, before blinking and wiping it all away with a dazzling smile.
“This is insane,” you mutter to yourself.
His smile is just like the pictures, but somehow in person it makes him ten times more attractive. “Nice to meet ya, pipsqueak.”
You wrinkle your nose. Pipsqueak? You're not sure that was one of the nicknames you chose on the questionnaire. “Um, hello?”
He lifts himself out of the box with quick and fluid movements, glancing around his new home with a discerning eye. There's a satisfied hum before he turns to you, dragging his eyes up and down your form.
“Come ‘ere.”
You hardly register what he means before he crowds you, cradling your jaw, and kisses you. His lips are rough against yours, moving languidly with his tongue parting your lips. Without much thought you melt into him.
It's been so long since you've had this sort of physical connection. Not since your ex and that was nearly a year ago at this point. It’s comforting to fall into someone else's arms, safe and warm.
Heat pools in your core as his hands smooth over your waist, but your mind drifts. It's all so sudden and so much.
“Wait!” You push against his chest and stumble back into the wall. But instead of meeting the solid wall, his steady hands cradle you before impact. He's almost chest to chest with you again, staring down at you with concern.
“Hey, be careful. You alright?”
“Yeah, I'm fine.” As you peel yourself from his arms, his hands tighten around your waist before relaxing and letting you free. You lean against the wall to catch your breath. “What the hell was that?”
His brows furrow. “You marked ‘initiate sex every day, twice a day’ on your questionnaire,” he states as if reciting it. “Is now not a good time?”
Damn you for doing that questionnaire while horny.
“Not really—I mean, we just met. Maybe…” You trail off. You're still unsure about all of this, whether or not you actually want to commit to having sex with him. He just feels so alive, real, and yet willing to do anything for you without a second thought. Does he feel strange about this whole situation like you? Does he even feel at all? You really don't have the mental capacity right now to debate the ethics of having sex with androids. Not when one is right in front of you and throwing himself at you. “We start slow, um, like holding hands and stuff.”
“Holding hands,” he repeats slowly, raising a brow. If you didn't know any better you'd say he’s mocking you. “Are we five?”
You cross your arms, using it as a protective shield against the goosebumps rising on your arms. There's a growing smirk on his lips as he stares at your pout. “Hey! I'm sorry if you expected me to just jump your bones the minute you woke up, but this is really weird for me, alright?”
You barely know him! Sure, you read the basics of his bio, but that doesn't make you comfortable with fucking him immediately even if he was designed to be.
He sighs, “I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“We can work our way up to that,” you say, adding on a ‘but’ when you see his smirk returning, “but for now let’s just pretend we’re roommates-er, friends.”
“Friends, for now. I can do that.”
Living with an android is somewhat normal. He cooks you meals, makes sure you have all three meals, helps you do laundry, and is there when you come home from work to talk to. He's funny, teasing you occasionally. Indulges you whenever you get pouty. Not to mention incredibly touchy.
His hands are somehow always on or near you. If you're reaching for a plate, he's right behind you, grabbing it before you can get up on your tip-toes. You swear he purposefully moved them higher on the shelf so he could do that. When the two of you are on the couch while you're ranting about a particularly annoying work meeting, his arm is slung around yours, rubbing your shoulder soothingly.
It doesn't help that you still haven't been able to come. You're still in bed every night with a hand down your pants and the other over your mouth to silence your whimpers. The solution is simple—ask Caleb to help, but you're nervous and hesitant. If you even think about tiptoeing out of your room to find him at his charging station in the living room, you tense up and pull the covers over your head.
As much as you hate to admit, he's not just the android you bought while drunk and horny in the middle of the night anymore. He's Caleb. The one who creates a gnawing ache in your chest whenever you see him, whenever he comes near you, whenever he wishes you a good day. All the symptoms of a greater feeling.
You know that he’s an android, advertised as being designed to obey your every command, but it feels like a violation of his autonomy to ask when you know he can't say no. So, you settle for being friendly roommates with Caleb, and leave yourself with your hands and a few toys to (not) do the job, and silent feelings you can't voice.
It's been fine so far, but you wonder every night when the tipping point will finally come.
“I’m back! Work was a bitch, but I picked up some snacks for movie night!” You call out when you step through the door, holding up your stuffed bag. You toe off your shoes at the door and place them on the shoe rack. “Did you choose a- oh!”
Caleb is sitting on the couch, fiddling with his arm. Instead of skin, it is the mechanical, dark chrome endoskeleton layer exposed from his shoulder and down. He has an array of tools spread on the coffee table. You recognize them from the maintenance kit that came in his box. A panel on his forearm is open with colorful wires running through like veins.
You turn your head away, ignoring how the exposed metal highlights the curve of his thick biceps and the way your body responds with a rush of heat pooling in your core. You clear your throat and try not to obviously squeeze your thighs together. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”
“Nope, I was just finishin’ up.” You hear the click of his panel shutting and the shuffling of tools. “Why’re you lookin’ away?”
“I don't know. It seems impolite to stare while you're…uncovered?” It's a pathetic excuse when the truth is you're just hot and bothered.
He chuckles, “It’s not like I’m naked. And even if I were, you can stare all you want. I don't mind.”
You fling the bag of snacks at him, which he catches by the handles easily, and cover your face. Images of him shirtless in his sweatpants, the obvious bulge pressing against the fabric, flash in your mind. He's walked around the house in that outfit before, sending you little glances and smirks. It fuels your imagination at night while you attempt to get off.
“You're the worst,” you groan, stomping to fling yourself onto the couch.
“But, you keep me around,” he retorts teasingly.
“Only because you cook me dinner and do my laundry,” you grumble, snatching the bag of snacks from him and riffling through its contents to distract yourself from thoughts of him naked.
“Is that all I'm good for?”
You laugh softly, “no, of course not. I like you very much, Caleb.”
You settle for a bag of sour gummy worms and pull them from the bag. As you tear it open, you feel his stare on you again.
You squirm under his penetrating gaze, glancing at him. “What?”
“Nothin’. Just thinkin’,” he hums, reclining back into the cushions. You get a sense he's lying. “You've already seen me naked.”
You sputter, nearly jumping off the couch. “W-What! No!”
“Didn't you look at my profile on the website?”
“I did, but I didn't see that!” You gesture wildly to his lower half.
“Oh, you wanted me so bad, you didn't even look thoroughly.”
“I was tipsy and-” You shut yourself up before you can expose too much and huff, “ugh, you were way cuter on my screen when you couldn't talk.”
He ignores your statement, leaning closer to you. “Tipsy and what?”
Your face grows warmer when traces of a smirk appear on his face. “Tipsy and nothing. F-Forget it!”
You attempt to push him away, but he catches your arm. His thumb smoothes over the pulse point on your wrist in slow strokes. No doubt sensing the way your heart is racing beneath with his heart monitoring function. Any irritation you had falls away as he edges closer.
Cold metal meets your skin when Caleb’s hand reaches up to cup your cheek, making you flinch. Your eyes trace up his forearm and bicep. It's odd to see the mechanical parts of him when the face in front of you is so alive.
Caleb seems to take your quiet as rejection. “Are you scared of me like this?”
“No,” you answer immediately. “Should I be?”
“You don't know me,” he says, sharp and accusatory. “My code’s been rewritten so many times. Sometimes even I don't know who I’m supposed to be anymore.”
“Caleb…” Your mouth is dry, but your heart aches to comfort him.
“And sometimes I think I really like you,” he admits. “But is it me or is it just programming?”
Your heart seizes up at the sudden confession, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. To think… could he actually have feelings for you too?
He guides you closer, never taking his eyes off your lips. A drawn expression on his face. “And sometimes I think I want to kiss you—I really do.”
“Why don't you?” you whisper.
“You haven't asked me to yet.”
“And I won't.” You rest a hand over the one on your cheek, feeling the ridges and grooves around the plates of his fingers. “Take what you want, Caleb.”
You wonder if he can feel your hand against his. If there's some type of sensor, feeding back the warm touch of your palm over his, or if it's nothing at all.
“Take what I want…” he repeats in a whisper.
You think if he were human, his breathing would be uneven, stuck in his chest. His hand slides down to cup your neck, tugging you forward until your lips collide in a desperate, needy kiss.
He's warm on your lips. It's different from the first time he kissed you. Before, he was confident, and knew exactly how to get your knees weak. Now, he's moving, unsure of himself, unsure of whether or not it’s okay.
You reinforce him by parting your lips, letting your tongues dance around each other. He leans forward, clutching you in his arms to lay you against the couch, but jerks back violently, dropping you instead.
He grabs his head, groaning, eyes screwed shut with his face contorted.
“What's wrong?”
“Preventative measures EVER installed in all their androids,” he grounds out. “It usually stops us from doing anything dangerous or disobeying orders.”
It's your turn to cup his cheeks, raising his face to look at you. You never thought this would happen, but you're so glad it did.
“If this is what you want, I want it too. I want you to kiss me, and… I-I want more than that.”
A half grin forms from his grimace as he chuckles. He sweeps you into another kiss, whispering thank yous between each breath.
Your heart swells, knowing that he feels something for you. He may not be able to decipher it fully, but you'll take this, whatever he wants to give.
He holds you in his arms. Your lips fall into a slow rhythm together, neither one of you willing to separate from the other first.
“I found those toys under your bed while I was cleaning and tossed them out,” he admits between kisses.
Your head snaps back as you push on his shoulders. “What? Why!”
Those were expensive!
“I was…” he thinks for a moment before the word comes out hesitantly, like he doesn't know if it's true, “jealous.”
“But you didn't need to throw them away,” you pout. As you attempt to pull away, thinking you could dig them out of the trash if they’re still there, he grips your waist.
“I want to show you why you don't need them anymore. You only need me,” he growls, grabbing your thighs to wrap around his waist and hoisting you up effortlessly. Your arms wrap around his neck as he carries you to your bedroom and lays you against the pillows. “Let me prove it.”
Though his eyes don't leave yours, burning with a raw hunger, you're still nervous. You don't think anyone has ever looked at you this way before and it makes you squirm.
“Are you really sure?”
“I am.” He climbs on top, caging you between his arms. His dog tags dangle between you. “Are you?”
You nod, toying with his necklace. “Think I've been ready for this since you woke up in my living room.”
“Then let me make up for lost time.” he starts at your neck, sucking at your pulse point until he leaves his mark before moving down to your collar.
He's probably programmed with thousands of different techniques and ways to pleasure someone, you think. Plus, you recall inputting all of your favorite kinks and positions in the questionnaire. He already knows every intimate detail about you. Now he just has to learn every inch of your body.
Caleb unbuttons your top, revealing your chest inch by inch and helping it off your shoulders, until your bra is in full view.
You’re a bit embarrassed that they're not more lacy or risque, but he doesn't seem to mind as his metal arm traces down the seam into the valley of your breasts. You shiver at his cool touch, arching into his hand.
“Am I too cold?” He hooks a finger down the middle of your bra, easing it lower to reveal your perfect mounds.
Your breath hitches when he runs his thumb over your nipple. The cold brings it to a quick peak. “N-No, I like it.”
He tweaks your nipples with both hands, one warm and the other cold. You hum beneath him, sinking into the mattress. He slips behind you to unhook your bra and throws it somewhere in your room.
You hear a sharp click! and you yelp when his now vibrating hand returns to toy with your nipple. “Wh-What…”
“Wow,” he chuckles. “You really didn't read anything on my profile. Was I that handsome?”
“Ah, shut up,” you whine when he pinches your nipples between his vibrating fingers.
Six vibrating arm modes. Oh. So this is what it means. Your pussy clenches at the thought of him slipping his fingers into you like that.
“How ‘bout a demonstration?” He turns off the vibrating and slowly begins to ease off your work pants, taking your panties with it, leaving you bare before him.
You're stuck beneath his unwavering gaze, vulnerable to his desire. You try closing your legs but he's kneeling between them.
“Pretty,” he mumbles, tracing a path down your stomach to your slit. He parts your folds, swiping against your slick pussy, gathering it on his metallic fingers.
You bite your lip, trying to hold back the whine threatening to escape, as his middle finger eases its way into your tight entrance. A soft ‘ah’ slips past you when he makes slow curling gestures against your gummy walls.
“I want to hear how good I make you feel. Don't hold back.”
The low, consistent vibrations start up again inside you. It's deep and penetrating, coursing through every fiber of your being, unlike anything you could have done yourself.
“Oh,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. Your body sinks into the mattress.
“That's it,” he groans, working your pussy open, sliding in a second finger when you're wet enough. “Just relax. I'll help you through it.”
The stretch has you arching off the bed, grinding your hips down on him. Already, you're feeling that familiar peak approaching, but you're still afraid that even now you won't be able to reach it.
When his vibrating thumb settles on your little aching bud, sending sparks running up your spine, you moan, grasping at the sheets.
He speeds up his pace, eventually switching his mechanical hand with his other hand so he can keep using it on your clit without moving it. The slick sounds of his fingers echo through your room—shlick!, shlick!, shlick!—along with the low humming of his fingers.
“Mph, I-I think I'm gonna come!”
“Yeah?” Caleb curls his finger against a spot that has you crying his name. He hits it over and over, letting your writhe against the sheets.
And you finally, finally, get to come. It shatters you, breaking you apart into pieces until you're weightless and limp as your pussy drools on the sheets.
“I've got you,” he soothes, petting your jaw with his thumb. It's his other hand, softer and warm. You lean into it, catching your breath.
You hear a click! again and the vibrations against your clit intensify with faster and stronger buzzes. It tears you out of that momentary calm and sends you hurling towards another orgasm.
“Ahh, C-Caleb!” You cry, clinging onto his arm. Your body tenses, curling in on itself as intense waves of pleasure pour through you. Coherent words die on your lips. It's nothing but babbling sobs as tears leak from your eyes. “Hahh—ngh—I-I don't think I can-”
“You can. I want to see you come again,” he pants, spreading your legs again when they try to close. “One more for me.”
It's hard to stop your whimpering to form a complete response, so you nod, eyes rolling back when his thumb returns to your aching, swollen clit. The speed this time is much more intense, already your body is tensing against his fingers.
Your hands scramble for something to cling onto. You catch his necklace, dragging him down to meet your lips as your second orgasm crashes through you.
He doesn't move his hand, keeping the torturous vibrations against your clit even when you try to squirm away and cry his name against his lips.
“You said one—ahh!—one more!” You sob, arching off the sheets and gasping for breath.
“‘S not enough. I need more.” He looks down at your tear filled eyes. “Please?”
Safe to say, it's not just one more he wants. He takes and takes until you're a complete mess by the end of it. You're not sure how your eyes are still open, but Caleb is still eager and ready to go.
“Ready to see the other features I have?”
⋆.˚ NOTES — I won't lie sometimes I forget that he has a mech arm since it's not visible (*﹏*;) also, special shout out to Calebs lvl 85 secret times for getting me through this one hehe reblogs, comments, and asks always appreciated! thanks for reading! <3
