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priest caleb x virgin reader
virgin reader confesses her lustful thoughts to her kind and gentle priest, unaware of his own battle with temptation. 11k words.
read on ao3
You were a good girl.
Good girls werenât distracted during Sunday sermon. They sat still and attentive, obediently absorbing lessons to carry with them throughout their lives. Good girls were never distracted.
Especially not by their priest.
They werenât distracted by the hair curling around his neck in pretty little flicks of brown, or by the look in his gentle eyes when his gaze lingered on them in the second row of pews, or by the ways his long fingers firmly gripped the Holy Book as he held it highâfar out of reach of the average person.
For two whole years, you remind yourself of these things. You sit through Sunday mass every week without fail, hands folds neatly in your lap, and you ask for forgiveness on your knees beside your bed each night when you realise your focus had drifted from the Lord to His messenger.
It felt much like a test you were failing, over and over and over.
His fingers.
His fingers, above all else, were your undoing.
The Communion procession shuffles forward slowly, drawing you towards your ultimate weekly test. Behold him who takes away the sins of the world. You repeat the words to yourself as the line carries you closer to him. Behold him who takes away the sinsâŚ
âAmen,â the elderly woman in front of you mutters under her breath.
And then itâs your turn.
His eyes are gentle and kind, fixed on you as soon as you step forwardâunwaveringâeven as he reaches for the sacramental bread, a small perfectly circular wafer. This was the part that played over and over in your mind as you tossed and turned at night. This was what you asked forgiveness for, above all else. Your heart races in anticipation as his eyes flick to your lips.
You obey his silent request, parting your lips in preparation to accept his offering. He would place the delicate wafer on your tongue with practised ease, careful not to touch you. And then heâd hold the chalice of wine to your lipsâhelping you take a chaste sip. His eyes would never leave you, and your face would shamefully heat in response.
One small moment of intoxicating proximity.
Repeated, week after week; never changing.
His warm eyes fix on yours as the small wafer approaches your waiting tongue, and you savour the details of his faceâsurrendering to your habitual sinful indulgence.
Something is different.
You replayed this never-changing ritual in your mind for years. You knew all its minor details. You knew it intimately.
Something is different.
His bottom lip trembles slightly and then dropsâfalling away from his upper lip. And at the same moment you watch his mouth part, mirroring yours, something else new draws a tiny gasp from your lungs.
His warm finger touches your tongue.
Every week, for years, he repeated the motion of chastely placing the small disc on the tongues of the congregation.
Never before had he touched you. Not once.
âThe body of Christ,â he says, hushed, like this was normal.
His parted lips, a touch of his fingertip to your wet tongue, and then, to finalise your torment, he brushes your bottom lip in his retreat.
Itâs only the well-formed muscle memory that draws a quiet âAmenâ from your lips.
That night, after kneeling and begging forgiveness, you crawl under your covers and desperately will sleep to take youâto free you from your spiralling, sinful remembrance. You toss and turn. You stare at your ceiling. Eventually, you open a window and sip from a glass of water as the cool night air soothes your heated cheeks. And it would be that small sip that finally unravelled you, drawing your mind back to the moment he pressed the lip of the chalice to your lipsâthe lips heâd touched.
Your cotton nightgown bunches up around your waist as you roll onto your stomach and slip your hand between your legs. It was the way he guided youâthe look in his eyesâlike he might reach out and wipe away any wine that spilled down your chin if you were too eager. It was the way his pretty fingers wrapped around the cup. It was knowing their warmth. The way they felt on your skin. On your tongue.
He would guide you so gently, if he were here with you now. Youâd imagined it before: him watching over you as you traced your fingers through your slick. But never had you imagined him touching. Touching was forbidden. A step too far. He did not touch.
Until now.
A heavenly addition to your sensory experience of him.
Itâs what draws the sinful noises from you now: shameful whimpers and gasps as you picture his finger in place of yoursâdipping a little inside you.
How could this be such wicked depravity if his finger slipping past your lips could be part of a Holy Rite? Was there really such a difference between two parts of a body? What made the wet heat of your mouth so different from the wet heat between your legs?
Itâs these spiralling thoughts, and the flood of tears that follow your cry of his name at your peak, that finally break you.
You were not a good girl.
You were damned.
And only confession could save you.
If you were brave, you wouldnât hesitate. Youâd march through the open church door at the first opportunity and take a place in the pews among a spattering of familiar faces, each waiting their turn to speak to him.
Instead, when weekly confessional hours do arrive, you sit on a small stone bench in the church graveyard and watch people filter in and out. You notice the little changes in them as they leave. Eyes that had been focused on the pavement instead look up into the trees. Their steps are lighter.
A mother who had first passed you hurriedly, tugging her small child behind her, leaves with him in her arms. She pauses and points out a little white rabbit at the edge of the churchyard, bouncing the toddler on her hip a little as she cherishes his reaction. And when the rabbit dips into the bushes, she continues her leisurely pace, engaging with the childâs chatter.
The weight of your burden seems to grow heavier the more you watch them all relieved of theirs. If you hadnât hesitated at the sight of the open door and rerouted to the small stone bench, you couldâve avoided this. Instead of watching them, you couldâve been sitting in the pews watching him. He wouldâve made the child laugh, settling him, so he could talk to his mother.
You loved watching the way they all reacted to him, adored him.
Thatâs what you should have done; what you should do now. But when you stand, instead of heading inside, you find yourself turning the way you cameâscurrying from the church grounds, no braver than a little white rabbit.
When Sunday comes, for the first time in years, you donât attend.
Itâs all the hesitation your body allows before you are nearly sick with anxiety. Wanting it over, you take up position on that same stone bench during confession hours, again. And like the week before, you wait. You watch as a spattering of congregants seeking opportunity for repentance come and go. An hour passes, beyond the departure of his final visitor. Again, youâd let the official hours come and go.
The sky turns a golden yellow as the sun dips behind the trees, and you wrap your small cardigan around yourself as the temperature dips with it.
And then a familiar, warm voice calls your name.
He stands in the stone arch of the old church's entryway, looking out at you. âYou must be cold,â he says in his gentle, patient way. âI thought you might be waiting to speak to me last. Some people prefer knowing thereâs no one waiting their turn.â
You take a small step forward, arms around yourself in a self-soothing hug. âI was,â you confess. âIâm sorry, Iââ
âItâs alright,â he says gently, mercifully cutting you off as a visible shiver takes hold of you. âCome inside, please.â
He stands in the entrance, turning his body to the side as you pass. Somehow, he feels largerâtallerâwhen youâre alone with him. Much like the empty church makes you feel small when its empty of its congregation. He towers over you.
âIt must be serious,â he says, his voice echoing slightly. The large wooden door closes as you linger in the aisle between pews. A closed door meant no more visitors. You were the last allowed entry. âSerious enough for you to prefer turning to ice rather than speak to me about it.â Heâs slightly teasing as he approachesâclearly trying to ease the tension that has you still wrapped around yourselfâcowering like a scared little lamb.
Itâs a warm, comforting sort of teasing. Familiar. Itâs his natural warmth that contributes to his busy visiting hours. Youâd never heard a bad word spoken against him.
It makes your guilt so much worse.
Shame wracks you, suddenly faced with the reality of confessing your wickedness to a man so good and kind. A man so rare. You had been all alone for so long. No family to guide you with unconditional care. He was a little spark of genuine warmth and care, irresistible to someone starved of it.
You couldnât imagine returning to Sunday mass every week after this, knowing that he might think back to this night every time his eyes landed on you in the pews.
Soft footfalls approach as you stare at the stone floor.
He speaks your name in a hushed, gentle command.He wants you to look at him. To face your shame.
And when you refuse, eyes stubbornly fixed to the floor, you must deal with the repercussions.
For the second time, he touches you.
His fingers rest under your chin as he lifts your head with a gentle pressure. Heâs warm. Warmer than heâd been last time. At least, thatâs how it seems as your chilled skin leaches the heat from his fingers. They linger, just for a moment, holding you in position as his eyes flick across your face.
Then theyâre gone.
âWould the booth make it easier?â he asks, hushed enough to avoid the echo.
There was no shame in hiding, you tell yourself. It was the only way youâd ever manage it. How could you ever tell him the truth with his eyes warming your skin?
He sees the answer in your eyes. And youâre grateful when he takes the lead without further question, letting you trail behind him to the small confessional booth in the corner of the empty church.
âIn the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen,â you begin. âBless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is⌠three months since my last confession.â Three months. The last time youâd convinced yourself to confess, only to find yourself listing off trivial everyday faults instead.
The sound of your breathing seems far too loud in the small wooden chamber. So much so that you take in shallower breaths in the silence that follows, self-conscious.
âAre you unwell?â he asks as the silence stretches, kindâlike he truly cared. When you hesitate, confused by the unexpected question, he adds, âYou were absent on Sunday. I assumed you mightâve been sick, but you look healthy. Nothing serious, then.â The last part isnât a question. He says it like heâs reassuring himself, like he really, truly cared.
Always so caring, of everyone. It makes it worse.
Your gut flips, anxiety rushing through you. You remember why youâd listed of a few trivial things and escaped in your last attempt. It was unbearable.
You couldnât do this again.
âItâs a kind of sickness,â you confess, relying on the echo of the box to carry your hushed words through the small hatched window in the divider between you.
Heâs quiet, letting you elaborate in your own time.
âIâve been distracted. I havenât heard your sermons. Not really.â You dig your fingernails into your thighs. âNot because they arenât interesting⌠or helpful. Itâs me. Iâm full ofââ One of your knees starts to bounce automatically. âMy head is full of⌠sickness. Sick thoughts. They wonât stop.â
You focus on his steady breathing in the lull between your confession and his answer, letting the even rhythm of it calm you until your leg stills.
âHas something happened?â he asks. âSomething is bothering you.â A pause. âSomeone?â
âSomeone,â the word leaves you on an exhale.
His next question leaves him faster than any of his previous responses. You havenât even managed to take in another breath. Itâs a falter in the calm rhythm you are used to, catching you off guard.
âWho?â
âIt⌠doesnât matter.â
It did matter. Youâd lied. One moment of impulse and youâd lied. If your distraction had been a man in the pews instead of the one standing at the pulpit, it would be a different matter entirely. Youâd have asked Caleb for advice years earlier.
Youâd have confessed your eyes had been drifting in the pews, distracted by temptation, instead of focused on him, as they should be. Thereâd be no confusing, twisted entanglement between his guidance and his unwilling involvement in your sin.
âGideon,â he says, disrupting your spiralling thoughts. âHeâs only been attending a few weeks. I havenât seen him approach you. Was it after service?â
Youâd never heard the name in your life. You hadnât even noticed a new face in the congregation.
If only you had. If only it was that simple.
When you fail to answer, mind whirring, he continues, âIs that why you werenât here Sunday?â The fabric of his pants brush across the wood in a way that signals his movement. His voice is a little clearer when he speaks next, closer. âHas he hurt you?â
âNo,â you answer, quickly. âNo, Iââ
âYouâll be honest with me,â he interrupts. âWonât you?â He sounds a little like a parent about to catch their child in a lie. Not quite stern, but the authority in his tone has you biting your lip.
âItâs not Gideon.â
âWho?â
âThatâs what makes it so wicked, Father. Iâve been so afraidââ Movement again, through the divider. It breaks your momentum. You fall into silence.
Like his face, you know his voice. Youâve studied it intently, every week, for years. All the warm, gentle kindness is missing when he interrupts you, âAfraid?â
You pick at the skin at the edge of your nail.
âOf you,â you finish.
Silence follows, except from your breath.
His, for the first time, is inaudible.
You should continue. You should take the silence as opportunity to confess the depths of your depravity. Your lips part, readyâ
âCommunion.â His voice fills the boxâfills your head.
He knew.
He mustâve seen it in your face. Of course he did. He was good and pure and righteous. He would have seen that lustful wickedness on your face each and every time.
Had he been waiting for you to confess it? Had he expected it from you each and every time you came to him, only to be disappointed when you failed to admit to your true sin?
Shame. Embarrassing, pitiful shame.
Your voice is shaky, emotion thinly veiled. âIâm sorry, Iââ
âNo.â He cuts you off quickly. âThis is my weakness. I should be asking your forgiveness.â A bump against the wood. Maybe his elbow. Your eyes lift to the small window separating you for the first time as you turn his words over, confused. âI took advantage of your innocence. I didnât think youâd notice. I was weak. If I knew youâd seeâfeel myâŚâ he trails off, sucks in a breath, then, âI shouldnât have touched you. Forgive me.â
Your heart races as you put together his meaning.
He was talking about his accidental touch of your tongue⌠and lip.
No, that wasnât right. He was confessing it was⌠intentional.
He was confessing.
Itâs like a sedative: the daze his words puts you in. Suddenly, instead of being hyper aware of your body, of your anxiety, you feel entirely outside of itâfloating outside of yourself. âI donât understand,â you mutter, disbelief stuttering your ability to process. He was good, and righteous, and loved, and kind, and virtuâ
âYou dontâ,â he starts. âYou donât understand?â
Heâd wanted to touch you? Why would heâ
âTalk to me,â he adds with a hint of urgency. âYou donât understand?â
âIt was on purpose?â
Heâs quiet. Then, âYou said you were afraid of me. If itâs not thatââ
âYou wanted to touch me?â you whisper, hardly hearing his questioning through your ongoing daze.
âYes,â he answers quickly. âI succumbed toââ He sighs. âI gave in.â
He had... lusted. Heâd lusted⌠for you. And even if it had been a one-off moment of weakness, unlike your own, his sin had reached out to brush yoursâŚ
Something releases inside of you. Confession rushes from your lips, unrestrained. âFather, bless me, for I have sinned. Iâve also given into lustful thoughts.â
Silence.
Then, âThese are your⌠sick thoughts? The sickness distracting you from sermon?â
You nod. âFor two years now.â
âTwoââ he cuts himself off abruptly. âDuring mass.â He shifts. âAnd when else?â
The marks in your thighs capture your attention again. You scratch at them. âAt night,â you confess, hushed. This⌠is where your sin diverged from his. Shame surrounds it still, heavy.
âYour indulgenceâŚâ he trails off.
âYes, Father?â
A bump against wood. âWhy were you absent this past Sunday?â
âIââ You tug the hem of your dress down over your knees. âI was afraid to see you.â
âBecause of Communion? Because Iââ
âNo.â You shake your head, despite knowing he couldnât see it. âI was ashamed.â
Heâs quiet.
It stretches.
Finally, âWe all have moments of weaknessââ
âBut it wasnât a moment,â you interject. âThereâs something wrong with me. Father, itâsâI canâtâMy Sundayâs arenât spent in worship of the Lord, theyâreââ spent in worship of you.
You drop your head into your hands, incapable of speaking the words aloud. Then, so quiet you arenât sure he can even hear you with your head bowed the way it is, âIâd never done it before you.â
When he doesnât respond, you raise your head. âIâve never thought about anyone but you. What is wrong with me? To lust for the first timeâto lust only for a man of God?â
You focus on his breathing in the silence, hoping to let it calm you like it had before. But itâs different now. Itâs uneven, heavier. It stirs your unease instead.
âThereâs nothing wrong with you,â he says, finally.
âButââ
âThere is nothing wrong with you,â he insists, firm, without room for argument. âYou are⌠perfection, sent to tempt me.â The wooden bench he sits on creaks with his movement.
âTell me why you wore that dress,â he adds, gentler.
You look down at the plain dress, hem resting at your knees where youâd tugged it down. Did you have a reason? You hadnât worn it in while, and the weather was just about to get too cold for you to wear it again for months. That was all.
At your hesitation, he continues, âYou wore that the first day I gave in. Apple red.â
ââŚgave in?â you question, a little wobble in your voice. You know what heâs implying, deep down. But itâs all too much. One thing after the other, shattering all you thought you knew.
And then, unaware of your imminent collapse, he deals the final blow.
âThe first time I wrapped my hand around myself and thought of the way looked up at me, all sweet and trusting. You look at me likeââ
Your small sob cuts him off, and you press your hands over your mouth, desperately trying to stifle the sounds escaping you without permission.
He stands, draws his curtain back, and exits his half off the booth. Your hands are still pressed over your mouth when he pulls the curtain in your little part of the box aside.
You look up at him with watery eyes, a towering dark shadow. And when he slowly enters and kneels in front of you, his large body fills your little section of booth. âAre you afraid?â he whispers. âDid I scare you?â
You shake your head, hands still clasped across your mouth.
You arenât breathing at all when he leans a little closer and gently guides your hands from your face into your lap instead. His thumbs brush over your knuckles in soothing caresses as he speaks again, âWhy are you crying?â
Months and months of inner turmoil spill from you in shaky half-sobs that you fail to hold back. You look into his eyesâgentle, familiar, warm. Heâs an angel filling your vision, dressed in blackâsin and salvation. His skin is hot where he touches you. And your eyes flutter closed when his hand lifts to your cheek, ghosting over your damp skinâlike he meant to wipe away your tears but wasnât sure he should.
With a slight tilt towards him, you close the distance.
His knuckles brush your skin, gently wiping at your tears. âIâm so proud of you for coming to speak to me,â he says, voice still lowered. âYouâre so good.â
You shake your head quickly, looking down.
He lifts your chin, guiding your focus back up to him. His eyes flick across your face. âWhy are you crying?â he asks again.
You suck in a shaky breath, âI donât know.â
âOverwhelmed?â
You nod, exhaling.
âMm,â he hums, taking your hand in his. âThatâs okay.â
Gently, he guides you from the box. He stands before you, closer than he stood in Communionâa wall of black fabric. You watch his chest rise and fall, rise and fall. Then you tilt your head back to look up at him.
âDeep breaths,â he soothes as your breathing evens out.
His thumb strokes across your knuckles again.
âIâm sorry,â you breathe into the space between you.
He shakes his head, and his palm lifts to your cheekâmaking proper contact this time. âDonât. Didnât I say you did good? Iâm proud of you,â he whispers.
âButââ
âWould I lie to you?â
You look up at him with glassy eyes. At your priest. Loved and trusted by all. Gentle and kind and good.
âThatâs it,â he breathes. âThatâs how you look at meâhow youâve always looked at me.â His fingers slip behind your ear and eventually curl around the back of your neck, holding you steady. âThought it was your love for the Lord. That I was a privileged conduit, sampling all that sweet love you carried around inside you.â
His fingers press into your skin. ââŚbut it was for me,â he finishes, breathy.
You whimper, tears forming again.
âShh,â he coos, breath tickling your lips as he lowers himself to meet you. His hands are all gentle again after that brief moment of pressure. One trails up your arm as the other cups the side of your head, thumb stroking across your temple. âPlease donât cry.â
âIt was wicked,â you whisper. âIâve been wicked.â
His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, rubbing back and forthâcomforting. His eyes drop to watch the way your cardigan slips off, folding down to expose the thin shoulder strap of your red dress. âNo, sweet girl,â he says, distracted. His eyes move across your upper chest before returning to meet your gaze. âYou were worshipping the Lord through me.â
His hair looks darker than youâd ever seen it before. The sun is gone now. Youâd never seen him by candlelight before. âI was?â you sniffle.
He drags your cardigan back up over your shoulder. âYouâre a virgin?â
You nod. Another sniffle.
âAnd youâve only touched yourself when you were thinking of me?â
He doesnât let you drop your head when you try, so you nodâeyes darting to the side in shame.
âWhat could be more sacred?â he breathes.
His lips ghost over yours before landing on your cheek in a feather-light kiss. You close your eyes, savouring his touch as he leaves a leisurely trail of them across your face. Tender kisses anointing your skin in patient reverence.
âA sweet..â Kiss. âInnocentâŚâ Kiss. âLittle lamb.â Kiss. âUsing her body to worship Him. You love Him through me. Thatâs all.â He returns to your mouth, holding your head steady as his warm lips slide across yoursâyour first kiss. âThrough my body,â he finishes, warm breath mixing with yours.
That made sense, your hazy mind offers. Itâs why it had consumed you all these years; why youâd never felt it for anyone but him.
Light, bubbly, warmth rises in your chest as the guilt lifts.
Caleb would not lie to you. It was an impossibility.
He watches the smile take over your face with a look youâve never seen on him before. Then his head drops to your neck, and heâs lifting you into his arms. He doesnât move. He just stands there, holding you to his bodyâbreathing in the scent of you. He groans something into your neck, a word you canât decipher. Then he withdraws.
âWould you let me guide you in worship?â he says, a little shaky with his uneven breathing.
âMm,â you hum, nodding. Whatever that means. It didnât matter. This was good. Everything was okay now. Youâre practically limp in his arms, releasing yourself to his will.
He takes a few step backwards, and then lowers himself into a pew. You sit in his lap, knees at either side of his thighsârelaxed as his strong arms hold you against him. âIâve resisted for so long,â he says, fingers tangling in your hair at the back of your head.
Then he drags you to his mouth, messy in his indulgence. Heâs eager to please the Lord, your mind supplies, as his tongue dips between your lips to meet your own. You have no experience. You donât know what youâre doing. So you let him take you. Thereâs a moment, when you are limp in his armsâeyes closed, chin wet with droolâthat he dips his long fingers between your lips to play with your tongue. He takes it between his fingertips. Toys with it.
When your eyes flutter open, you find yourself transfixed by the expression on his face as he plays with you. His own lips are parted to accommodate his ragged breathing, and his eyes are hooded, locked on his fingers in your mouth.
Eventually, he lowers you onto your back across the pew and crawls over you. Itâs only now you notice his black shirt untucked from his pants. Then his mouth is on yours again, devouring you with a low groan. The wood is cool against your back, contrasting with the heat of him above youâwith the heat of his mouth. He tasted a little sweet, like the hard candies he kept at the entrance of the booth.
Heâd sucked on one while listening to confessions.
Heâd heard their sins, in all his virtuous kindness, and heâd let the sweet lolly melt in his hot mouth.
And now you were tasting it.
You were tasting your sweet priest.
His warm breath tickles your neck when he parts from you.
Then his fingers return. Slipping between your wet lips and into your mouth, he plays. In and out and around your tongue, he explores your mouth like it hid something he treasured. You take in as much of his face as the dim candlelit space allowed. Lost in worship, you hardly process his words when he finally speaks.
âBody of Christ,â he mumbles.
He holds your jaw, wet fingers against your cheek. And you lay limp beneath him, willing to receive, as he hovers over you and spits into your mouth.
You swallow without hesitation, indulging in the brand new expression painting his pretty face. Hunger and satisfaction combined.
He pets your hair with one long gentle stroke, adoration flooding his eyes as he gazes down upon you. Itâs a look that has your heart fluttering in your chest as your mind drifts further and further outside of your body and into the space above youâlight and free.
As his thumb brushes across your glistening lips, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake, a question flitters across your vacated mind. âIs this sex?â you mutter in a dreamy breathy sigh.
He stills.
You watch the muscles move in his face as his expression shifts. His brows tug together, then relax. His wet lips part, then close, then part again.
âItâs worship,â he answers. Your cardigan had fallen off both your shoulders at some point. He gently lifts the soft fabric back over your bare skin now, putting you back together. âWhen itâs with me, itâs worship.â
You release a shaky breath. âSo Iâll stillâIâll still be a virgin? After?â
His fingers trace over your collarbone, then wrap around your neck lightly. His voice is as gentle and warm as always when he answers, âOnly when itâs with me. No one else.â
âNo one else,â you sigh, blissful under his exalted guidance.
He nods with an approving hum, fingers slipping from your throat down to your chest. He traces down your body, making little patterns over the fabric of your dress as he goes.
âWhen I fill you with my cockâŚâ
He makes a pattern over your lower belly as he speaks.
ââŚand your untouched cunt clings to meâŚâ
His fingers brush at your thigh, where your hem bunches up. ââŚI might say some terrible, vulgar, things. Perverted depravityââ His fingertips dig into your skin. ââis only natural as such perfect worship is filtered through our imperfect human bodies.â
His warm breath tickles your thighs as he lifts your dress, exposing your cotton panties to the cool air, and to his eyes. He looks up at you through the brown hair that falls over his face. âNo matter what I say, remember this is worship. Okay?â
âOkay,â you sigh with a nod, entirely surrendered to him.
âGood girl,â he breathes, the warmth of it tickling you through the cotton. âAngel.â
His finger makes a single light stroke down the centre of the fabric, tickling your clit as he passes. Immediately, your body tenses as you attempt to curl in on yourself, overwhelmed by the newness of the feeling. Youâd expected it to feel like it did when youâd slipped your hands between your legs yourself.
It didnât.
He traps your thighs in the firm grip of his hands, preventing you from escaping him.
âIt tickles,â you confess, embarrassed.
âHere?â He brushes over the fabric again, and itâs only his firm grip on one thigh that prevents you clamping him between your legs.
His hands slip just under the dip of your lower back, and he tugs you down the bench a little, towards his mouth. Then, as you look up at the vast vaulted ceiling, he kisses the cotton. Itâs nothing more than a peck. And somehow, it feels closer to sin than anything prior. More than his tongue in your mouth, or his candy-flavoured spit.
But this wasnât sin.
Another gentle kiss, directly over your clit.
This was worship.
âFather?â
âMm?â he hums.
You canât see him, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
âShould I⌠kiss you too?â Your cardigan falls off one shoulder again. âI mean like you are. Worshipping your body is worshipping Him?â
He crawls up your body, filling your vision as he hovers over you again. His eyes fall to your exposed shoulder briefly. This time, he doesnât fix it. âWhere I kissed you?â he asks on a ragged breath.
Your eyes drop to his chest, and you fill in the rest of the path down to his belt in your mind. âBetween your legs,â you whisper.
His thumb swipes across your lower lip, then he strums it a littleâletting it bounce back as he watches its movement intently. âYou want to kiss my cock?â he asks, a little rumble in his voiceâdropping it lower than youâd heard it before.
Your eyes widen a little, still unused to his vulgar language.
âRemember what I told you,â he adds. âItâs natural, hm? To speak like this.â
You nod.
He lowers his face to your neck, and you look at the ceiling again and he inhales deeply, nose against your skin. Then, âSay it.â His lips tickle your neck as he speaks. âHow do you want to worship mâHim?â His chest presses into yours. âSay it.â
The ceiling is a void of darkness. His body separates you from it, warm and safe. You turn your head and breathe in the scent of his soft hair. âI want to kiss you⌠kiss your cock.â
You jolt a little beneath him as his teeth sink into your skin without warning. âGood girl,â he groans. âSo good. So proud of you.â A kiss where heâd bitten you⌠then another behind your ear⌠then your cheek⌠the corner of your mouth. âJust let me taste you a little first,â he whispers. âIâve wanted to taste you for so long.â
You expect him to take your mouth again.
But he disappears, back down your body, to his position between your thighs.
You close your eyes rather than stare up into the darkness again, focusing on the warmth of him between your legs⌠on the delicate way he plays with the little strip of cotton covering you. His fingers lift the edges just a little as his breath fills the space he occupiesâwarming your thighs and cunt alike. âNo one has seen it?â he asks as he toys with the fabric.
You shake your head and drop an arm across your head, over your closed eyes. âNo, Father.â
âNo one has touched it?â
âJust me,â you answer quietly, embarrassed, still.
His finger dips far enough under the fabric to sample the wetness beginning to leak from you. You should be ashamed, wracked with the guilt of sinful indulgence of the worst kind. Instead, a small high-pitched sound escapes you.
âAnd now me,â he says, low enough you almost miss it. âYouâll let me take these off, wonât you? Youâll let me see?â
âMm,â you squeak with a nod.
His fingers hook into the waistband. You expect him to take them off quickly, like removing a band-aid.
âThis is only for me,â he mutters as he lightly tugs at the fabric, inching the underwear down in a torturous lazy indulgence. âThis is worship.â
You nod. âAnyone else would be sinful.â
âMm. Thatâs right, angel. Thatâs good.â
Just before your twitching cunt is exposed to the room, he stops. You open your eyes and watch as he kneels beside the pew so he can guide your underwear down your legs and over your feet.
Then he stands.
He looks down at you.
And you watch as he brings the white cotton to his face and breathes in.
He turns and takes a few steps away. You watch him inhale again.
Then he shoves them into his pocket.
He stands there, with his back to you, lit by the candles at the entrance to the booth.
âFather?â you prompt after a long lingering silence.
His shoulders rise on a deep inhale, then he turns. He stands there, looking at you with his hands in his pockets, just far enough away that you canât make out his expression in the darkness.
Even when you sit up, he doesnât move.
You tug your dress down over your knees. âDid IâDid I do something wrong?â
He takes one step forward, the sole of his shoe squeaking over the stone tiles in his haste. But then he freezes again.
âNo,â he answers simply.
You tilt your head, trying to make out his expression. The dark empty church seems bigger now. Itâs dark corners seem darker. You resist turning around to check nothing is creeping from the dark while your back is turned. The cold starts to bite at you again. You miss him.
Itâs only when you wrap your arms around yourselfâmuch like you had when heâd found you on the benchâthat he seems to break from whatever invisible string held him back. He surges towards you and drops to his knees at your feet. âForgive me,â he pleads, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his forehead to your stomach.
Your red dress rides up to your thighs again. He takes the chance to invade the space between your thighs, gripping onto you like a lifeline.
âThis is wrong,â he says, head still bowed, pressed against you. âForgive me.â He grips the dress at your back in closed fists. âI gave in. Youâre too sweet. Iâve never strayed before. Forgiveââ
âI donât understand.â
ââme. Youâreââ
You shove at his shoulders.
Itâs enough to halt his speech, but it does nothing to loosen his hold on you.
âFather?â
He looks up at you. Tortured. Thatâs how youâd describe the twist of his pretty features now. âI told myself Iâd let myself have you once. That itâd be enough. That itâd fix it.â His fists flatten against your back. âBut it wonât ever be enough,â he breathes. It leaves him like a confession. But instead of it making him lighter, he sags. His hands slide down to your hips, then a little further. He plays with the puddle of fabric where your dress bunches up at the top of your thighs. âIâm sick,â he mutters, sounding defeated.
âBut itâs worship. Itâs okay.â
He looks up at you from between your legs, through the hair that falls over his eyesâmessier than youâve ever seen it before. âMm, itâs worship,â he says. âBut it has nothing to do with God.â
You look over to the altar, then to the crucifix on the wall behind it.
Then, you look back at the man kneeling at your feet.
âIt didnât feel like sin.â
His eyes drop to your lips, and then his fingers wrap around your thighs, just below your hem. âNo?â His hands warm your thighs where he touches you, squeezing and releasing you in a comforting rhythm. âIt did for me, angel. So much I nearly lost myself to it. It was so easy. Iâve spent so long resisting you and all it took was a little confession, and I nearly had yourââ
He swallows.
âIâm a bad man.â
You shake your head emphatically, quickly covering his hands with yours. âDonât say that. Please.â
He looks down at your hands covering his own, lingering there, even when he speaks. âYou should find a new church,â he says, entirely unmoving. âOr Iâll leave, if that makes it easier. I can leave.â
He sounds a little like heâs trying to convince himself at the end.
And when he shifts, attempting to pull himself to his feet, you panic. âNo!â you cry, wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him back into you. You wrap your calves around him for good measure. âPlease donât leave me. Please? Iâll be good. I wonât bother you again. I swear I wonât bother you.â
He breathes heavily as you cling to him, forcing his head against you again.
Then, when the tension leaves his body, and youâre sure heâs not about the leap to his feet, you loosen your hold on him enough that he can look up at you. His hand lifts to your cheek. âYou are good,â he says. âYouâve always been so good, and youâve never bothered me. Never.â
âButââ
âIâll give in,â he interrupts. âIâll give in eventually. I want you soââ he sighs. âIâll give in.â
Your eyes flick to the altar again. Just briefly.
A door was opened now, one youâd kept locked and buried deep inside you. His tongue between your lips had been the key to unlock it, and the prospect of him pulling awayâof losing himâhad swung it wide open on its hinges.
Nothing mattered more to you.
No one. Not even God mattered more thanââCaleb,â you whisper.
His eyes dart to yours. Itâs the first time youâve called him by name. You hadnât meant to say it aloud.
âYes, sweetheart?â
He looks at you in a way that makes it immediately clear that youâd never truly seen his gentleness more. Not really. You suppose youâd seen part of it. Maybe a little sliver. But the way he looks at you now fills you with a desperation unlike anything youâve felt before. A desperation to cling to him. He looks at you like he could offer you everything.
You couldnât part from him now.
Not ever.
âHave you really thought of me before? In sin?â
He doesnât look away when he answers. âMany times.â
Even after having his spit dribbling down your chin, you struggle to comprehend the idea of him⌠touching himself. Especially thinking of you. Was the man before you now really the same pious one youâd idolised all these years?
âAnd you asked for forgiveness?â you ask softly. It was comforting to imagine someone like him kneeling beside his bed in prayer the same way you had.
His eyes drop now, shame crossing his face.
He grips the bench either side of you and slumps forward, until all you can see of him is the soft brown hair at the crown of his head. Then, âNo, I havenât. Not for this. Not from Him.â
His breath tickles your thighs as you battle your confusion. Itâd been a self-soothing search for comfort, not a genuine question. You hadnât considered he might say no.
âIâve never strayed before,â he says, head still lowered before you. âNot before you.â His arms move to your back again. He takes hold of your dress and tugs you forward until his head rests on your stomach. âYou are my greatest sin,â he confesses, sounded closer to distress than youâd ever heard him. âI donât understand it. Iâve sat as a helpless passenger as itâs wrapped itself around meâinside me.â He looks up, glassy eyes meeting yours. âYouâre inside me.â
Your lips are slightly parted in aweâin stupor.
You werenât alone in this feeling.
The doorâunlocked by his touchâfalls off itâs hinges entirely. You could never close it again.
With his glassy eyes still on you, you gently nudge your cardigan from your shoulders and let the warm fabric fall into a pile around your hips.
âWhat are you doing?â he asks, his eyes widening slightly.
âI feel it too,â you answer, hushed. âI want to be wrapped around you. I want to feel you inside me.â
He shakes his head, and you feel his body tense, like he might try and escape again.
Quickly, you wrap your arms around his neck and fall forward, falling onto him. He keeps his balance for a moment, but gravity wins. He lands on his back, and you manage to cradle his headâpreventing it making contact with the stone tile floor.
Heâs entirely still.
âCaleb?â you whisper with a little tilt of your head, resting comfortably on top of him.
A muscle in his jaw ticks. âPleaseââ He swallows. âPlease, sweetheart. You shouldnâtâwe canât do this.â
It only takes a little adjustment for you to brush you lips over his. âWhy?â you whisper.
His lips tickles yours as he speaks. âIâm sick,â he breathes. His hand glides up your back as he says it, until his fingers wrap around the back of your neck. âYou make me sick.â His grip is firm now, fingertips making little indentations in your skin. âIâm supposed to guide you, protect your sweet soul as you walk through this sick world, and instead, I look at you, and all I think about is plucking you and keeping you. Greed and depravity and lust andââ
A little whimper from you silences him.
His eyes flick across your face, studying, and then he takes your bottom lip between his teethâtugging just a little, then releasing you again. âI realised it when I couldnât find you in the pewsâwhen Gideon was absent too: itâs not just lust,â he continues, keeping his hold on you. âItâs anger, and violence, and jealousy. I feel it all.â
âFatherâŚâ you breathe into his mouth. âI donât want anyone else to see me, or touch me.â Gently, you cradle his warm cheek in your palm. âNo one but you.â
His nostrils flare slightly.
Then his hand drops from the back of your neck, leaving you entirely.
His eyes flick down your bodies, to where your thighs cradle his stomach. Then he turns his head to the side and closes his eyes, shaking it a little, like heâs trying to erase whatever thought his mind had conjured.
You sit up, straddling him. His stomach is firm beneath your palms and you shimmy down a little more, until youâre resting just above his belt.
His brows draw together as you roll your hips, bare pussy separated from his skin only by the cotton of his dark dress shirt. The friction of it feels a lot like your pillow had on nights youâd writhed against it and thought of him.
But you can feel his warmth, seeping through the fabric.
He must feels yours too.
It was your warmest place, after all.
His eyes open, and for a moment, he stares out into the darkness. Then, slowly, he turns his head and looks directly at youâwatching as you move against him. Watching as your lips part and you let a few little sounds of pleasure slip out.
His shirt nudges higher with your rhythmic movement.
He does nothing to fix it.
He doesnât move. Except for his eyes.
They move between your face and the red fabric covering your shame.
He knows his shirt is nudging higher.
He doesnât look away.
And when it finally creeps high enough to allow you to drag your slippery pussy over his warm stomach for the first time, his hands snap to your hips.
He holds you so tightly, you are forced to halt your movement entirely.
âStop it,â he scolds, stern.
You tilt your head. He says it like he hadnât been watching, waitingâas if he hadnât been anticipating the feel of your messy cunt against him.
âBut I needââ
He sits up suddenly, supporting you with a hand to your back as you slip into his lap. âWhat?â he demands. âWhat do you need? You came for confession. You needed to confess and be heard. Thatâs my purpose. Thatâs what I am to you.â
âAre you angry with me?â
He leans forward, holding you firmly against him. âWhy is your little flower all messy? Hm?âHis eyes drop between your eyes and your lips, over and over. âWhat kind of girl rubs her juicy little cunt all over the priest who was supposed to protect her perfect, pure, sweet soulâon the floor of His Holy Sanctuary?â
He bites at your lip before you can even process the lewdness of his words. âYour body is a temple of worship,â he continues, a hint of anger still darkening his voice in a way youâd never heard before. He presses you into him, forcing your breasts to compress against his chest.
You didnât need to wear a bra with this dress. It wrapped around you so perfectly that it supported you fine all on itâs own.
âPlease donât be angry,â you whisper. âIâIââ Tears swell in your eyes as you stutter, quickly breaching your lower lids and streaking down your cheeks.
As your vision blurs, your world tilts. Your back meets the hard floor gently, and the shape of him hovers above youâobscured by your tears. It all happens in one smooth motion.
And then, without another word, the sound of tearing fabric fills the empty church.
He tears the red fabric from your skin, split from the neckline down the centre of you.
Your chest rises and falls heavily in the stillness that follows.
Heâs a blurry figure above you. You havenât had time to blink away your tears.
His breathing is uneven and heavy, to match your own.
Then, as your vision starts to clear, he falls forward and wraps his warm lips around one of your nipples. Thereâs no build-up. He starts in a frenzyâa chaotic tandem of his wet swirling tongue interspersed with desperate feral suckling. It fills the echoing darkness with vulgar symphony.
It drags desperate whimpers from your lips. And when one of them sounds like a high, broken cry of his name, he surges into youâwrapping his arms around your back and tugging you a little off the floor and further into his mouth. He hums something around you, the muffled words vibrating around your nipples.
Your eyes lock on the crucifix behind him as he ravages your breasts, animalistic in his intensity. It felt like all-consuming reverence, adoration⌠worship.
It was worship.
Worship was good.
He was good.
You arenât even aware you are doing it when you start muttering. Itâs only when he detaches from you with gasping breaths and looks up into your eyes that you realise it.
What had you been saying?
Your nipples, wet with his spit, pebble tight in the frigid air.
âThank you,â you whisper.
That was it.
You had been thanking him.
He sucks in a long shaky breath. Then, with his eyes fixed on yours, his large, warm hand cups your breastâcovering it entirely. âThese were made to nurture new life,â he begins. Heâs all gentle, guiding authority figure now. This was how youâd always known him. He has the same cadence he used in the booth when he was offering up the Lordâs teachings. âTheyâre His perfect design.â He palms your breast, massaging it without hesitation or restraint. âDonât you think itâs rightââ He takes your other breast in hand and leans back a little so he can watch as he gropes you almost painfully. ââthat we honour and cherish His perfect creation?â
He swings a leg over you, never ceasing his rough kneading. âTake it off,â he instructs, rolling his hips towards you. âUndo the buckle.â
His belt is hidden under his loose shirt. You fumble a little with it, half-blind. He doesnât stop to help you. He plays with your breasts instead, looking down at you from above.
âThatâs it,â he coos in gentle encouragement as you slip the leather through the loops at his waistband.
Itâs only then that he lifts his hands from you.
He sits above you, one leg on either side of your bodyâholding his weight off you. And you watch as he unbuttons his shirt. The collar goes first. He tosses the white strip aside without looking at itâs landing place.
His pretty fingers work at the buttons.
He makes it about half-way.
Then he grips the fabric and tears. Buttons pop off and scatter across the stone around you.
And then heâs bare.
Muscle sculpts him like a living, breathing work of art. Heâsâ âBeautiful.â
His chest rises and falls heavily as he gazes down at you, head tilting a little as the word slips from your lips involuntarily.
âMm?â he hums, falling forward over you. âWhat was that?â
When you avoid his gaze, he grips your jaw in his palm. âTouch me,â he says, âas I touched you. Worship Him through me. We are created in His image.â
He takes your hand, falls back on his heels, and lift you to your feet as he stands.
You are bare, and he is half-bare. Somehow, he feels taller than he ever had before.
Then he places your palm on his chest, flat against his warm skin. âThis is my body,â he says, dark hair falling over his eyes. âDo you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from GodâŚâ He quotes the passage as he guides your hands across his torso. âSo we treasure it, and and honour Him through it.â
His stomach is firm under your palm, rising and falling shallowly as he guides you to the little trail of hair that disappearing down into his waistband. âLook at me,â he commands.
You obey, fingering brushing the hem of his underwear.
âIâm a bad man,â he says.
You shake your head, frowning. He was wrong. He wasnât bad, he was everything good and safe and warm.
He catches your chin just as it dip downwards; as your attention is drawn to the movement at his hips. He keeps your eyes fixed on his as he undoes his fly with one hand. âIâm a bad man,â he repeats. âI want to fuck you,â he breathes, a little ragged now. âPretty little virgin comes to her trusted priest asking for forgiveness and he lowers her to the cold floor, naked, and tells her he wants to shove his leaking cock deep inside her. Is that a bad man?â
You canât respond. Not with the way he grips you.
âHe tells her he wants her to kiss his throbbing cock. To worship him, like he was her god. He wants her to put him above all other gods, above her God. Heâs a jealous man, without exception.â Fabric hits the floor, and slowly, he guides your hand into the elastic of his underwear. âHe wants her on her knees, looking up at him with her sweet, devoted eyes, promising sheâll put no one else above him.â You gasp as he guides your fingers around him, hot and thick. âIs that a bad man?â
His other hand slides up your stomach to wrap around your breast, still wet from his spit.
âHe wants to fill his pretty little angel with his hot cum, until sheâs bred nice and full, and then when her pretty tits ache with sweet milkââ He squeezes at your breast as he speaks, over and over. ââhe wants to suck at her until it dribbles down his chin. Is that a bad man?â
He leans down and places a gentle kiss to your lips. âHe wants her to call him Father when heâs inside her,â he whispers. âHe wants her to cry as she sucks at his cock with her naughty little cunt because she knows itâs bad.â He squeezes your hand around his erection. âYou know itâs bad, donât you, angel?â
One shaky breath. Two. Then you nod.
He lips curve into a little smile, proud. âGood girl,â he whispers. Then he steps away from you, separating you from him.
You take a small step to follow.
âNo.â
You freeze, wobbling a little on your feet in your haste to obey.
âGo lay down on the steps and spread your legs.â
Your eyes flick to the stairs leading up the pulpit, then back to him.
You rock on your feet again, this time in hesitation.
The stone is cold on the soles of your feet. If you stood there long enough, they might go numb.
But the steps are covered in a dark, red carpet.
He takes a small step towards you. âDidnât you come here to confess? Hm? Show me. I need to see the part of you that aches for me.â
His eyes heat your skin as you slip past him and climb the steps. Thereâs only a few.
Heâs closer when you turn.
And heâs entirely bare.
He stands in the candlelight, just in front of the first pew, watching youâwaiting for your obedience. And as you lower yourself onto the steps, leaning back to prop yourself up on your elbows, his hand wraps around himself.
You can still feel the heat of him in your palm.
âSpread your legs,â he commands.
âMm,â you nod. âYes, Father.â Then you drop your knees, exposing your messy centre to his hungry eyes and the cold air. Heâs silent as your cunt clenches around nothing, wanting. He strokes over himself in gentle twists, base to tipâeyes locked on your offering.
âAre you going to ask me what I think?â He doesn't look up from between your legs as he speaks. âThatâs what you came here for, isnât? For help?â
You nod, readjusting yourself on your elbows a little.
He closes the distance between you and lowers himself onto his knees on the bottom step. âI can see it clenching,â he murmurs. âGreedy. Hm? Is it greedy, angel?â
Your lips quiver as you suck in a shaky breath.
âMm,â he hums. âTell me why you touch it. Help me understand.â
âI donât know,â you mutter with a shake of your head.
âYouâll tell me the truth,â he orders. Itâs not like earlier, in the boothâwhen he was still the man youâd thought youâd known these past two years. Heâs all stern authority now. Thereâs no doubt. You will tell him the truth.
âFelt empty,â you confess in a little whine and roll of your hips. âI felt so empty.â
He leans closer. âYeah? Poor little baby. A virgin with an achy little holeâŚâ His fingers wrap around your ankle. âEmpty,â he mutters. "So proud of you for coming to me,â he says as he strokes up your calf in a comforting caress. You struggle not to squeeze your thighs together, tortured by the lack of friction and the pulse of your cunt under his lingering gaze.
Then he lowers himself down between your legs. His finger strokes the skin just around where you want him most. âSweetheart,â he breathes. âYou need filling with the Holy Spirit. Youâre all empty, yeah? You came to me because you knew I could fix it? Because I can fill you?â
Heâs asking you a question, but heâs focused entirely on your twitching pussy as you flinch under this teasing touches. There is no logic to his questioning regardless. Heâs consumed by the lust you shareâslave to it.
âWho better to fill you than me?â he mutters as his fingertip dips into your hole. Itâs barely a prod, easing back again as soon as your soft entrance offers a little resistance.
âJust for youâŚâ you breathe.
âHm?â He looks up. âWhat was that?â
âOnly want you.â
He crawls over you slowly, forcing you to look into his eyes as he asks, âMe? Yeah? You came to your priest to fill your empty little pussy?â
âForgive me,â you whisper.
He brushes his knuckles from your temple down to your chin. âIâll help you, angel.â His lips brush over yours. âMy angelâŚâ
When he climbs off you and stands to his feet, a tiny part of your brain fires off in panicâafraid of him leaving you. But then his pretty fingers wrap around the thick length as it bobs above you. âIt needs anointing,â he says with a gravely darkness in his voice.
He towers above you, skin glowing golden as the candlelight bounces off him. The same strong fingers that gripped the Holy Book high above his head each Sunday glide over the length of him as he looks down upon you.
He takes one step backward, down the steps. âOn your knees,â he instructs. His aim becomes clear as he takes one step closer again, levelling himself at the perfect height for your mouth. âTell me,â he prompts. âWhere do you want to kiss me?â
On a shaky breath, you exhale, âYour cock, Father.â
You watch his closed fist stroke over his length, from the base to the tip. Thereâs a little shine there, at the end of it, leaking from the slit. âAlright, angel. Anoint my cock with your drool, hm?â He lets go of it, and you watching it bob a littleâheavy. Looking up at him for reassurance, you level yourself with the head and touch your lips to him tentatively. One gentle kiss. âThatâs it,â he coos. So you place another to his skin, right at the very tip. It bobs a little as he shifts his weight. Then you dip your tongue out, catching a little of the shine at the slit.
A bird calls in the night as it flies somewhere nearby.
His head drops back.
âThis is what you needed,â he sighs. âThis is what you came to me for. Isnât it?â
You nod with a hum as you take the tip of him between your lips, tongue working in clumsy little swirling flicksâconfidence building.
âGood girl,â he praises, looking down at you again. âOh, my good girl. Just play with it. Just like that. Sweet little kisses for Fatherâs cock. Oh, Fuck. Oh God,â he groans.
He slips from your lips as you startle a little, looking up at him. The vulgarity had become your new normal. But this was new.
âWhat is it, baby?â he coos, stroking your hair. âI shouldnât take the Lordâs name in vain. Iâm sorry.â He takes his cock in hand as he apologises, standing on the steps of the pulpit, in the empty church where he gives his sermon each Sunday.
No one else would ever see him like this. He was too good. He was loved and trusted and righteous. And his cock was wet with your spit.
When you stand to your feet at his guidance, he still towers over you from the step down.
âAre you gonna put it inside me now?â you question with a little tilt of your head.
He takes one step down and runs his fingers through his hair. For a brief moment, it almost looks like he comes back to himselfâto the version of him that almost left youâgood and virtuous. It fights to take over.
So you take one step towards him.
He takes a step down again, in return, away from you.
âIâm so empty, Father,â you whine, slipping your fingers down between your legs. âNeed you to fill me up again. Please.â
A further step down has him standing on the stone tiles.
So you lower yourself onto the steps again, leaning back and parting your thighs.
He stands there as you play with yourself, slipping your fingers through your slick until your clit is as sloppy as the fluttering entrance you leak from.
His heavy cock twitches as you watch each other. He doesnât touch it.
âPlease, Father,â you plead with a half-sob, on the edge of tears. âMy pussyâŚâ
He takes a small step towards you and pauses again.
âI know itâs bad,â you continue, somewhere between a sob and a whine. âItâs wicked. My naughty pussy wants to worship your cock, Father. Wanted it so long. I think about it during mass. I imagine you inside me. I come every week for you.â You dip your finger inside yourself, whimpering a little. âDonât you want me?â
His chest rises and falls heavily as he approaches. Heâs slow, like a predator stalking.
âSo bad,â he mutters as he lowers himself onto the steps between your legs.
He watches as you play with yourself, messy and clumsy.
âSent to tempt me,â he continues muttering as his fingers wrap around himself again. âThatâs what you are, arenât you? Are you from the Devil? Made to look like a perfect little angel? Is that it?â His hand strokes along his whole length, base to tip, over and over in a slight twisting action as he speaks. âYou were made for me, werenât you?â
It sounded right. Made for him. Youâd never wanted anyone else.
He lowers himself over you before you can answer.
âIâll never stop wanting you,â he warns. âItâll get worse and worse. I can feel it. This obsession.â
His forehead drops to yours. And with your eyes closed and his warmth over you, the slick tip of him slides over you for the first time. You want to kiss him, but he doesnât let you get close. Instead, he breathes into your mouth as his tip collects all the slick between your folds and spreads it in an obscene mess between your thighs. âThis belongs to me. Only I get to fill your greedy little pussy, yeah?â
His lips brush yours.
âNo one else touches it. No one else looks at it.â He prods at your virgin hole, indulging in the sweet spongy heat that presses back at him. âThis is worship,â he breathes. âYouâll suck me inside your sweet cunt, all needy and sweet and looking at me like you do in Communion. Youâll worship me. Above all else.â A chaste kiss. âThen Iâll flood you with cum, so youâre nice and full, yeah? Does that sound nice?â
âInside,â you plead as you squirm, trying to take him in as he slips over you again and again.
He breathes into your neck as he prods at you a little harder. âYou gotta let me inside. Can feel you sucking at me. Take me inside, sweet girl. Come on.â
He kisses your neck as you try to take him, letting your muscles go slack under him as he eases inside you over and over. âThere you go,â he mumbles. âFuck, thatâs it. Perfect fucking cunt. Mine.â
Itâs just the tip of him. It fills the ache beyond anything youâd managed with your fingers. His breath, his voice, his warmth, and his thick hot cock stretching your walls open.
Itâs enough to drag tears from you again.
He kisses them away as they wet your cheeks.
âYouâre inside. Inside me.â
His brows draw together as you squeeze at him, clenching rhythmically.
âThank you, Father,â you whisper.
He groans, and then he shifts, and impossibly, he fills you furtherâspearing apart your walls until it feels like you might look down and see the shape of him in your belly.
âWe shouldnâtââ he mutters. âForgive me.â His hips drag back, and then heâs pressing into you again. âForgive me.â He bites at your earlobe. âNaughty pussy. Naughty girl. Desperate for her priest to fill her with cock. Fuck. Fuck, you feel so good.â
âThis is sex,â you mewl.
He bites into you, feral, and the obscene slap of skin echoes from the pulpit steps as his hips slam into yours. âThis is sex,â he answers, breathless. âThis is what you wanted. You wanted to suck on my cock with your perfect little cunny. You wanted to be full of me, hm? This is what you wanted.â
âHeâll forgive us,â you whisper into his ear. âIâm made for you. He made me for you. How can it be wrong?â
âYeah?â he rasps, looking a little frenzied when he lifts his head to find your eyes. âYou made for me?â
âCanât you feel it?â you ask with a roll of your hips.
You watch his eyes flutter shut.âYeah. Yeah, sweetheart, I feel it. Wrap around me so perfect.â He grinds into you, indulging in the feeling of your walls rippling around him in desperate waves. âIâm keeping you. Youâre mine now. My pretty girl. Mine to fuck, and kissââ He licks at your jaw. ââand breed.â He drops his weight onto you, smothering you in his heat. âGonna keep you safe and warm. All mine.â
âDo you think Heâs watching?â you whisper in his ear.
He groans into your neck. âTell me who you were thinking of,â he orders, low and gravelly. âWhen you looked up at me during Communion. Tell me.â
âYou.â
He draws his hips back and begins fucking you just with his tip in shallow little rocking thrusts. âNo one else before me, hm?â he prods as you clench rhythmically around him, attempting to draw him back in. âYou worship me with this cunt. Only me.â
You nod desperately, emphatically. âOnly you.â
Pleased, he sinks back inside you with a low groan.
All your life youâd believed your body was a temple of the Lord; that you were filled with His Spirit; that you carried Him inside you always.
But youâd been empty. Youâd been so, so empty. Longing to fill the cold, hollowness inside you. Youâd desperately returned to this church week after week, believing the man at the pulpit was merely a messenger between you and your heavenly God. Believing your fixation was your failureâthat he was temptation, and only in submission to God could you be delivered from him.
But with his cum anointing your skin, and his large warm body sheltering you from the cold, you know the truth of it all: anything, or anyone, which worked to separate you from him, could be nothing but the greatest evil. He was your salvation. And nothing would come before him.
Your face is quickly wet with tears again as you roll against each other in the dark, empty churchâindulging in your mutual worship. His mouth adorns your neck in messy kisses as you mutter in his ear: praising him, worshiping him. You canât stop, desperate to release the intensity of your adoration upon him.
And when he cradles your cheek in his hand and gazes down at you from above, you see it in his eyes: love, devotion. âMy good girl,â he breathes.
it came to you as no surprise that you found caleb to be rather adorable, in the way you found a sad little puppy adorable. especially when he was clingy like this.
you both were on the couch all snuggled up, his large body pressing you down with its weight, head resting on your chest, strong arms wrapped around you with no intention of letting you go. you were practically suffocating, though you didn't particularly mind it, the warmth comforting you while your fingers lazily raked through his hair, messing them up.
your eyes lowered down to his face, the light from the television illuminating his features, highlighting the line of his nose and his long lashes. your right hand slowly trailed down, fingers caressing his cheek before they moved down to his lips, dry as expected.
"hm?" caleb perked up, purple eyes peering up at you, his soft gaze tugging at your heart. he was cute, too cute with those eyes and the way his head tilted ever so slightly in question, the slightly disheveled state of his hair making him look much more domestic. without a word, you pinched his cheek between your thumb and index hard.
"hey! what was that for?" he gasped at the sudden pinch, sitting up a bit, only to be met by your hands cupping his face, squishing his cheeks together. his brows were furrowed in curiousity, a sight oh so endearing.
"you are cute. i want to kick you." you huffed, catching the way his ears were quick to flush a bright hue of red, a goofy smile appearing on his face.
"am i?" he laughed, tugging you closer to him. "well, pips, in that case-"
i found something on twt. a chinese player shared it. either way, take it with a grain of salt !!
"im a low-level artist on the project team. the entire character design and pv (promotional video) for the new male lead were completed six months ago. we held meetings three times to warn upper management that dropping a character out of nowhere with zero pre-hype would definitely infuriate veteran players. we suggested extending the promotion period and balancing the content production for the old characters, but everything was rejected by management. the higher-ups only care about traffic and financing. they can't wait for players to argue their way onto the trending searches to boost popularity.
they deliberately suppressed the storyline resources of the five original male leads to pile everything onto the new character, completely disregarding the feelings of long-time paying players. everyone at the grassroots level clearly knew that this plan would ruin the game's reputation, but nobody listened to front-line opinions. the current mess of net-wide boycotts is entirely a self-inflicted result of management's shortsightedness and greed."
Ummm I just found out that one of the main complaints was that Valko was "too tan"....???????????? And Infold went for it. Mkay. Yeah, as a black player this is past the last straw. I'm done.
Western???? Yeah no babe that's racism. Or at least colorism. None of the LIs look chinese let's be completely honest. They're just pale. Which, mind you, a lot of Chinese people are not without bleaching their skin FORRRRRR WESTERN standards!!!!!! Racist fucks.
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And that's the part that's making me lose my fucking mind.
We lost an entire section of the MAIN STORY.
The livestream literally told us Valko's release was going to reveal more about the Aethercoreâone of the biggest mysteries in Love and Deepspace and something that's been central to the plot from the very beginning.
So now what?
You think they can just delete him and nothing changes?
Do people genuinely think you can rip out an entire story arc without consequences?
Everything that was supposed to be revealed through Valko now has to be rewritten, redistributed, or outright cut. The main story is going to have to be retconned. Future updates are going to have to be reworked. Characters may have to be rewritten just to fill the gap he leaves.
If you're celebrating this because you "won," I sincerely hope you understand what you've actually cheered for.
i am unfortunate to say that the caleb fanfic may come much later, as the situation in the love and deepspace community is deeply unsettling. i am not in the right headspace to create such good content for you guys, it feels undeserving. but on the off chance that my sister helps me write it, the fic will come. i will let you guys know!
You had just entered Valkoâs research lab, hoping to possibly catch him for a little lunch break together.Â
As the door slid shut behind you, you paused to look around. Your eyes were pulled by the various beeping and blinking of the advanced tech surrounding you, but there was no sign of the redhead anywhere.Â
âValko?!â You called out, to no response. Stepping deeper into the facility, you reminded yourself that he had granted you unrestricted access to his equipment, space, and personnel; You figured he certainly wouldn't mind you making yourself at home while you waited.Â
Then, a gleam in the corner of your eye drew your attention. You turned to look at it, only to find Valkoâs nightprowl suit, all pristine and shiny, displayed in a sleek glass case. A devious idea popped into your head. I meannn, he did say you could use anything you wanted.Â
So there you were, drowning in the enormous jacket. You had initially intended to try on the whole suit, but the boots alone proved to be absurdly heavy, tiring your feet after just a few steps. Realizing the rest of the gear would be just as exhausting, you settled for just the overcoat, the one that spanned Valko's entire length, complete with the hood and ear slots.Â
You had to admit, though, that it was insanely comfy. The hem of it, which almost hit Valko's feet when he wore it, was now pooling at the floor, acting as a makeshift mop as you walked around the lab. The hood, meanwhile, completely covered your head, and in fact half your face too, the ear pockets flopping around without the usual support Valkoâs ears provided.Â
You told yourself you'd put it back before he came, but the plush warmth draping over your shoulders made it too easy to delay, until the man himself finally came back into his office.Â
Uh oh. You sheepishly turned around to the sound of a door clicking shut, finding Valko standing there with his head tilted and a brow cocked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in amusement. Yet, when he caught the full view of you when you turned around, his breath hitched and his eyes darkened imperceptibly. He noticed how small and vulnerable you looked enveloped in his gear, your face caught in a guilty expression with those droopy, puppy-like ears adorning your head.
Obviously, Valko was a werewolf. And he was well aware that this came with certain... wolfish instincts. Yet right now, how intensely territorial he felt towards you surprised even himself, and it took him all his will to not immediately pin your small body up against a wall and shove his dick in you all the way till you were filled with him.Â
âValkoâ I need a break- hic,â you whimpered breathily, your voice utterly tired from the hours heâd spent dutifully worshipping you and your practically abused hole.
âI know love, just a little bit longer. Youâll hold out for me, won't you?â he cooed. But contrasting with his gentle voice, his pace didn't seem to falter in the slightest. His pupils were blown out to the point where no iris was shown, looking at you draped over one of his desks, entirely naked, the heavy jacket long since discarded on the floor.Â
You twitched under his tight grip, stupidly big hands enough to wrap around your waist entirely. You initially already had a hard time adjusting to his cock, taking a long time of him just eating you out before you could even begin to handle it. But what made it worse later on was his goddamn knot.
Every ounce of restraint vanished from him, making you endure round after round of him filling you with his seed, his knot keeping everything inside you. Yet, after a point, even that didn't stop his cum from leaking out. The deranged man almost lost his mind when he saw that, shoving everything back with his dick and fingers, hellbent on breeding you till your womb practically inflated from all that was pumped into you.Â
And oh did he love to see it, ângh- Just so adorable for me aren't you pup,â he said, more to himself than you, shoving his thumb in your mouth, moaning as you immediately sucked on it. âSuch a good girl. Youâll let me cum in you again yeah?âÂ
âW-wait, no more,â you barely managed out. All the pressure inside your cunt was making you dizzy, and you would be kidding yourself if you said you could take any more, but Valko obviously had other plans.Â
He moved his hands to let one rub on your clit, while the other, cruelly nonetheless, pushed onto where your belly bulged out. The pressure of it all made you explode yet again, an orgasm crashing through you intensely, your mind blanking out till all you could think of was him and his massive fucking cock.Â
Valko smirked, his canines showing through as he took a little advantage of your clouded state. âPlease? You want my babies dont you, want me to breed you full till we have a damn litter.âÂ
He leaned forward to kiss your fucked-out self, the two of you moaning into each other's mouths as you completely lost yourself to the pleasure. Â
⥠Bunny's Note: Sorry gng, not even Bunny is immune to writing the wolf with a breeding kink. I know itâs clichĂŠ but I couldn't help it, the idea sounded way too hot in my headđŁ â á˘.ËŹ.á˘âÂ
pre-relationship, post explosion. fluff & hurt/comfort. gn, mc reader
wc: 680
You sit up in bed, frustrated and disheveled from tossing and turning. It's been over an hour, and you still feel just as awake as you did when you first laid down. You don't even want to know what ungodly time of the morning it is.
Despite your sheets smelling of Caleb, bringing back a feeling of comfort you had been chasing for over a year now, nothing seemed to work. Falling asleep in a new place never gets easier, even though Caleb was kind enough to lend you the only lived-in bedroom in his apartment.
Caleb⌠Surely the exclusive privileges he granted you as children were still valid? And if so, he wouldn't mind if you used them again now, right?
Slipping out from underneath the covers, you pad out of your bedroom on bare feet, shivering a little at the feeling of the tile floor against your soles. You quietly sneak down the hallway, stopping once you reach Caleb's room. You take a shaky breath, gathering your courage for a few seconds, before quietly knocking.
You don't get a response, but you're not surprised. You often wouldn't get one when you were a kid, either, unless he was up late studying. You turn the door handle; it's unlocked, and you close the door behind you before quietly making your way inside the dark room.
He's sprawled out beneath his comforter, chest steadily rising and falling in slumber. You hesitate again, but tell yourself you've already come far enough, and it'd be a waste to throw in the towel now. You swallow, before gently shaking Caleb's broad shoulder, your voice soft and timid.
"Caleb? Caleb, wake up,"
His eyes crack open as he looks up at you, still half asleep. He props himself up on his elbow, rubbing his eye with his free hand. His voice is gravelly and slurred with sleep.
"Pips? Whatsup�"
"I can't fall asleep," you admit sheepishly, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment and eyes darting away from his. You're a grown adult⌠maybe this was a bad idea. "M'really sorry for waking you up, I've just been trying for a long time, and-"
"No, no, s'okay," he mumbles, sitting up a bit more to tug back the covers for you. "Should've come sooner, pips. C'mere,"
You climb into bed beside him. Unsure of how to lie, you hover a bit nervously until Caleb pats the bed next to him.
"I said c'mere, pips. I've got you, yeah? Like when we were kids."
You comply, lying beside him, giving him a cautious amount of distance with your head on the opposite end of his pillow. He chuckles softly, his breath brushing your nose, and shakes his head.
"Silly. You know what I meant, pipsqueak. Here,"
He pulls you forwards with his Evol, coaxing you to bury your face in his chest as he wraps his arms around you and tangles his legs with your own.
"Better?" He asks, and when you nod, you feel the vibration of his voice beneath your cheek as he lets out a soft hum of satisfaction. Your body relaxes as you breathe him in, your eyes drooping shut as you let yourself start to drift. It just feels right, being close to him like this; two halves of a whole, finally reunited after so long.
"I really missed you," you confess, your voice wobbling the slightest bit as you feel stubborn tears start to well up in your eyes. He threads a hand into your hair, gently scratching at your scalp, the way you used to beg him to when you were children.
"I know," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your head, reverent. "I know. I'm not goin' anywhere, alright? Not ever again. I'm with you for good."
You nod, already feeling yourself start to drift off, enveloped in his large, solid body and surrounded by his familiar scent.
"Rest," he murmurs, kissing your temple. "I'll be right here when you wake up. Never leaving you alone again."
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if yandere stalker caleb ends up winning, i'll start writing it tonight.. will probably be here in a few days. keep my notifications on and let me know if you want to be tagged in it and future worksâĄ
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, âbe quiet, granny will hear usâ, making out, dryhumping, p in v, mirror sex, backshots, leg hooking, aftercare, i think that's it?
wordcount: 15.9k
PREVIEW : âwait, what the hell?!â 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. âsee?â caleb murmured, leaning down closer, his hot breath fanning across your cheeks, smelling faintly of the mint gum he'd been chewing. âyou 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.â
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 heâs missed you, will the tension eventually snap?
caleb is coming back this summer.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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 âcaleb and his girl.â
and today, he was coming home....
the question had been humming under your skin all morning, rhythmic and annoying like a cicadaâs buzz. did caleb change? would he look different? act different?Â
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.
âmake sure you tell him to eat properly while he's here,â 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. âthat boy always forgets to look after himself when he's excited.â
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 shoesâjust 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.
gideonâs 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.
âlook who finally crawled out of bed,â 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.
âi've been up since five, actually,â you shot back, leaning forward so your chin was practically resting on the gap between the two front seats. âgo, go, go. we're going to be late, gideon!â
âwe have forty minutes, calm down,â 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 calebâs new life.
âis 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?â
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.
âhe's fine. still a nerd about planes,â gideon said, glancing at you through the rearview mirror with a knowing smirk. âhe 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.â
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.
âanyway,â gideon clears his throat, switching gears as he turned onto the long stretch of road leading to the junction. âenough about the golden boy. how's state uni treating you? your granny said you joined some theater production crew last month. you making friends?â
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.
âoh. yeah. it's fine,â you murmured, your voice dropping an octave. âthe 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.â 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.Â
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. âwhat exactly is the strategy here? are we airing out your feet, or are you trying to slide out of the car entirely?â
âshh,â you muttered, not opening your eyes, just waving a hand dismissively in his general direction. âdon't ruin the vibe, gideon. i'm getting into character. when we get there, i'm going to pretend to be asleep.â
âand why, pray tell, are we faking a coma?â
âbecause,â you mumbled, your voice dropping into a stubborn drone. âhe'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.â
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 gideonâs 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.
âyeah? where are you? i'm near the main exit, by the yellow bakery,âÂ
âoop, i see the car,â 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 cadenceâthat easy, slightly raspy, slow-rolling tone that always sounded like he was hiding a joke behind his teeth. it was exactly the same.Â
âalright, hurry up. the traffic enforcer is already looking at me sideways,â 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.Â
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. âhey!â
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.Â
âman, you look like you survived a war,â gideonâs voice boomed, followed by the rustle of clothing as the two of them exchanged a brief half-hug across the console.
âmore like two years of institutionalized sleep deprivation,â 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.
âis... she dead?â caleb asked, his tone dropping into that familiar, amused lilt.
âpassed out about ten minutes ago,â gideon lied without a single hitch in his voice. god, you owed him a premium coffee for this. âshe was buzzing around the house since five in the morning, then collapsed the second we hit the highway.â
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 calebâs weight shifting in the front seat, the leather creaking slightly as he turned his upper body around to look back at you.Â
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.
âsilly girl,â caleb murmured, the word dripping with an irritatingly affectionate playfulness. âstill a sleepyhead. some things really don't change, do they?â
gideon steered the car back onto the main road, the smooth roll of the tires replacing the chaotic noise of the terminal. âi don't know about that. sheâs grown up quite a bit while you were gone, caleb. sheâs 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.â
there was another pause, a tiny stretch of time where the only sound was the hum of the engine.
âyeah,â caleb said, his voice shifting into a tone that was harder to read, more contemplative. âi can see that. she looks different.â
âdon't let the height fool you, though,â gideon chuckled, glancing at the rearview mirror. âsheâs still a menace. but yeah, you probably can't carry her around with one arm like you used to.â
âplease, i can absolutely still carry her with one arm.â a fleshy slap echoed through the front seatâthe sound of caleb smacking his own bicep or forearm or whatever to prove a point. âthese muscles aren't just for show, gid. i could lift her and her bags without breaking a sweat.â
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 realizationâthe sudden consciousness of him not just as caleb, but as a man who could effortlessly lift youâkept you completely pinned to the leather.
âwhatever you say, pilot boy.â 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 gideonâs turn signal. the car slowed down, veering off the main highway and pulling up.
âalright, cay, this is me,â gideon unbuckles his seatbelt with a crisp click. âi 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.â
âyeah, sure. no problem,âÂ
wait, what?
gideon was leaving?Â
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 instructionsâgideon reminding caleb about a loose wire near the stereo dashboardâand then the driverâs 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 calebâs 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 gideonâs 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, andâ
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 himâcaleb 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.
âgot a good sleep, pips? your gege's back now.â
the nicknameâthe one he used to demand you call him when you were kids just to annoy youâshould 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 calebâs 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.
âwhat's with the face?â he asked, trying hard to force that casual lilt back into his tone. âyou look like you've seen a ghost.â
you quickly sat up, pulling your legs inward and smoothing down your shirt, desperately trying to find your footing. âyou look different, that's all. the academy must be starving you if you've gone all that just to survive.â
âstarving? please. they feed us like racehorses,â caleb scoffed, though the response felt a little rehearsed, a little too quick as he kept his eyes glued strictly on the asphalt ahead. âbut thanks for noticing. glad to know my hard work isn't lost on a provincial girl like you.â
you leaned your cheek against your hand, looking out the side window to hide the heat rushing into your own face.Â
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.Â
âso, state u,â caleb started, âgran says you're keeping busy. how's the actual college life treating you?â
âit's fine,â you replied, your voice matching his even tone. you kept your eyes fixed on a passing billboard outside. âit'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.â
âmaya and javi,â 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. âthat's good. it's good that you found your crowd.â
âmm. javi's in the theater crew too, so we usually walk home together when rehearsals run late.â 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?
âwhat about you?â you asked, trying to sound completely nonchalant, keeping your gaze trained on the side mirror. âmust be nice up at the academy. you probably have a whole new circle of pilot friends.â
âyeah. the guys in my barracks are solid. we complain about the flight instructors together. it keeps us sane.â
and then, that's where it happened.
âany... girls?â the word slipped out of your mouth a little too smoothly, a little too practiced. âi mean, the uniform probably does half the work for you up there.â
the car went starkly silent.Â
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 faceâbut it wasn't his usual mischievous smirk.Â
âyeah,â caleb said quietly, his eyes softening as he looked out at the highway ahead. âactually, 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.â
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.
âthat's nice. good luck with that.â
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. âwhat about you, pips? you mentioned that javi guy. do you... have a boyfriend now?â
you blinked, your eyes still stinging from the sunlight. you didn't even have to think about it. âno.â
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.
âwe're here, sleepyhead,â 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. âaren't you coming out? grannyâs probably already waiting at the door.â
you quickly averted your gaze, looking past his shoulder at the porch of the house, avoiding his eyes entirely.
âyou go ahead.â
â
the heavy heat of mid-afternoon had dissolved by the time your eyes fluttered open, replaced by the long-shadowed stillness of late gold.Â
you groaned, a sharp ache radiating through your lower back and neck from the impossibly cramped angle youâd 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.
âgranny?â 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. âwhere's granny?â
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.
âouch!âÂ
âclumsy idiot.â 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 frameâtaking in your post-nap hair, your dumb shirt, and your bare legsâbefore 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.
âgranny went down the road,â he casually leaned his hip against the counter, completely unbothered by his lack of a shirt. âvisited mrs. alvarez or someone. said sheâd be back before dinner.â
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.
âlook who finally decided to join the land of the living,â caleb watched you pull a glass from the cupboard. âfour hours, pipsqueak? i was about to check if you still had a pulse. you sleep like a log.â
you poured the water, keeping your back to him as you scoffed. âi 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.â
behind you, caleb let out a bright, boyish laughâthe kind of chesty sound that filled the entire room and made him look exactly like the sixteen-year-old boy you grew up with.Â
âyeah, yeah, keep talking...â 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. âhey, 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.â
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. âcan't tomorrow. i already have somewhere to go with a friend.â
âa friend?â his brow furrowed, a deep line cutting between his eyes as he stared at you. âsince when did you choose a friend over me?â
the confusion on his face was almost comical, because it was a look you knew intimatelyâthe 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?
âjust a friend from state u.â you said airily, turning on your heel and walking out of the kitchen. âyou're not the only one who got a change of scenery, caleb. iâm all grown up now. i actually have a life and people outside of this house.â
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.
âi'm serious,â he muttered, carrying that infuriatingly paternal tone he used whenever he wanted to control a situation. âdon'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.â
you let out an incredulous laugh, snapping your head up to look at him.Â
âyou should know that if youâre a grown up as you claim to be.â caleb added.
you raised a single eyebrow, your lips curling into a mocking smile. âwhat 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?â
calebâs eyes narrowed, a dark glint flickering in his irises. âshould 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.â
âyeah, well, you should not.â 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. âi'm [age] years old, caleb. i am quite literally not a kid anymore. so stop acting like a hypocrite when you're the one whoââ
âletâs test that theory.â
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.
âwaitâwhat the hell!â 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.
âsee?â 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. âyou 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.â
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.
âyou're a cheater,â you hissed. âthis is a cheap shot!â
âit's a reality check,â his grip on your wrists tightened just a fraction, a wordless challenge. âtell you what. if you manage to dislodge meâif you can actually get out from under me right nowâthen 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.â
âit's not a date!â 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.
âand fine. if that's what you want, you're going to get it.â
with a swift movement, you bucked your hips upward, twisting your wrists sharply against the grain of his thumbsâa 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.
âha!â 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.
âyou're cheating!â 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. âcaleb, let go! in a game like this, you obviously have the advantage, you giant idiot!â
âi told you,â 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. âthose flight drills aren't just for show. you're slow, pips. you're losing your touch.â
âi am not slow!â 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 yoursâit 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.
âlet... me... go,â 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.Â
âmake me.â
his hips shifted just a fraction, a subtle pressure against yours that made your heart completely halt in your chest. âtell me you don't need me anymore. say it like you mean it, and maybe i'll think about letting you up.â
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.
âcaleb,â you muttered, your voice hesitant. âi... i need to pee.â
caleb blinked.Â
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?
âhold it in.â
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.
âdo you remember when we were younger? whenever you felt like peeing, what did i make you do?â
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 thatâa 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.Â
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...
âwhat the fuck?â you cussed under your breath, your voice shaking as you glared at him. âlet me up, caleb. i'm serious.â
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.
âhold it in,â he repeated. âthen press on it with your hand for ten seconds.â he paused, his eyes narrowing as he scanned your face. âunless... you don't have difficulty with it anymore? you can just do it without the routine now?â
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.Â
caleb studied your silence for a beat longer, the corner of his mouth twitching with a shadow of that knowing smirk.
ânevermind.âÂ
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.
âi should go back to fixing the sink back there before granny gets home,â he walked beyond the living room threshold, his bare feet padding softly against the wood. âgo pee, pips,â he called out over his shoulder before his voice faded into the kitchen.
now you were left lying there on the cushions, entirely silent.
â
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 oâclock. 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.Â
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 calebâs 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.Â
if the modern plumbing was compromised, youâd 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.
âhnggggh!â 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.
âyou're going to break your back doing it like that.â
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 commercialâwearing 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.
âjust got back from a five-kilometer loop around the bypass road,â he tilted his head, a small smirk beginning to tug at the corner of his lips as he took in your disheveled state. âand i come back to find my pipsqueak fighting a piece of old iron. let me guessâthe bathroom pipes aren't cooperating?â
âyeah, because of you.âÂ
you pointed an accusing finger at his chest. âyou were the one messing with the plumbing yesterday, caleb. i don't know what kind of aerospace engineering logic you applied to grannyâs bathroom, but it's completely dry. so yes, the pipes aren't cooperating because you broke them.â
caleb didn't even have the decency to look guilty.Â
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.Â
he didn't even offer an excuse. instead, he took a sudden step forward into your space. âcalm down, let me help you.â
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 youânot 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.Â
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 thenâsplat!
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.
âhey!â 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. âohâoops, i'm sorry,â he frantically dropped the iron handle and reached out with both hands, his white gym towel already bunching in his fingers. âi didn't mean to torque it that hard. are you okay? did it get in your nose?â
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 sideâexactly like a wet golden retriever trying to shake off a bathâsending 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.
âserves you right.â
âalright, fair enough,â 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 slabâthe bottle of shampoo, the bar of soap, and the clean towel you had neatly laid out.Â
âso,â 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. âare you getting all washed up and pretty for that day out with your friend?â
you lifted your chin, âyup, i am.â
calebâs 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.
âright,â 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. âthe friend from state u. the one you walk home with?â
âjavi,â you reached up, squeezing the excess water out of your hair strands, letting the drops splash onto the concrete between your feet. âwe're going to the plaza. he wants to check out this old second-hand bookstore, and then we're getting dinner.â
âdinner?â caleb repeated, the word sounding flat, heavy, like a stone dropped into mud. âsounds like a lot of effort for a casual classmate.â
âhe's not just a classmate, caleb. he's my best friend at university,â 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. ânow, 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.â
caleb looked at you for a long unreadable beat. then, a familiar smirk began to pull at the corner of his lipsâbut it was different this time. it was the calculating version of his smile, the one he wore right before he flipped a chessboard.
âsure, anything for my pipsqueak.â
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.
âyou 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 iâve never met. makes a guy feel a little replaced.â
âyou weren't replaced,â 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. âyou left. there's a difference. you went to the academy, you got your own life, your own barracks... your own nursing student.â
the words slipped out before you could stop them, bitter and sharp.
âwhat did you say?âÂ
âi said you have your own life,â you repeated stubbornly, forcing yourself to straighten up and look him in the eye. âso 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?â
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.Â
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.Â
almost... shameful?
âwhat, lost your tongue?â you straightened up from the basin, squeezing the wet fabric of your sarong tighter over your chest.Â
âyou stand here lecturing me about hanging out with a friend, acting like youâre still my overprotectiveâugh, i don't even know, when youâre literally planning to bring a new girl home next semester.â you purse your lips together, but it's too late to stop now. âyou'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 andââ
you cut yourself off, the words freezing in your throat. your heart did a violent terrifying drop into your stomach.Â
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.
âthere... is no nursing student,âÂ
you paused. âhuh?â
âi-i made her up,â caleb admitted.
âi invented her the exact second i got into the car yesterday. because you were looking at me like i was just a distant cousin.â he takes a deep breath, eyes wandering away while he furrowed his eyebrows. âyou 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.â
and then, his eyes went back to yours. âi'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.â
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. âi'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.â
he looked you straight in the eye then, his irises dark, intense, and swimming with a vulnerability that completely stripped him bare. âand i just... i missedââ
he stopped himself mid-sentence.Â
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.
âi was scared too,â you whispered, breaking the quiet before you could lose your nerve.
calebâs 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. âthe 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.â you swallowed the lump in your throat.Â
âall this time, caleb... i missed you. so much.â
there it was, laid out in the open.
calebâs 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 thenâshreek!
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.
âoh, you're both awake,â 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.Â
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.Â
granny paused, placing a hand on her hip as she looked at you funnily. âwhy do you have a sarong on this early? and your hair is wet.â
âthe bathroom pipes aren't working, granny,â you explained quickly, your voice a little too high. âi was trying to use the pump-well outside.â
âah, that old thing,â granny sighed, shaking her head and failing to notice the suffocating tension between you and caleb. âcaleb, i told you to fix that last night. look what you did to your sister.â
caleb didn't say anything, just let out a small hum, his throat bobbing as he placed the last avocado in the basket.
âwell, i'm quite tired from the walk,â granny rubs her lower back as she turned toward the stairs. âi'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.â
âyes, gran. i'll be right up,â 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.
âyou in there?â
calebâs 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 shirtâa slightly faded black tee that somehow made his broad shoulders look even more intimidating in the cramped hallwayâbut 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.
âuh, yeah?âÂ
caleb cleared his throat, his adam's apple bobbing before he finally shifted his gaze down to meet your eyes.
âgranny... uh, gran told me to get the bathroom pipes sorted before she wakes up from her nap,â caleb muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. âshe 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.â
he paused, his eyes searching yours with a quiet hesitant look.
âcome help me, please?â
â
the bathroom felt smaller than it ever had before.Â
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.Â
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.
âare you...â caleb's voice cracked slightly before he cleared his throat, forcing the gravelly pitch down. âare you still going to the city with your friend?â 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 wellâthe second you had admitted that you spent four years missing him in the quiet of your bedroomâyou 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 calebâs upturned face, at the raw vulnerable waiting in his eyes...
âyes, i'm still going.â
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?
âpips,â caleb said, his tone entirely too polite while he reached his hand upward without looking. âhand 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.â
âokay,â 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.Â
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.
âalright, look,â caleb muttered, his voice echoing hollowly against the underside of the sink. he pointed a long finger at the heavy gray intake pipe. âwhen i start turning the wrench on this coupling bolt, the whole pipe is gonna want to twist with it. if it twists too much, itâll 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?â
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.Â
âi'm not completely useless, caleb.â you whispered back.
ânever said you were,â 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. âalright. on three. one... two... three.â
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.
âwait, wait! stop!â you gasped, your fingers scrambling to grab the tool again.
âyou're letting it turn!â 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. âthere, hold it tight like that and squeeze!â
âi am squeezing! your hands are too big, you're blocking my grip!âÂ
âokay, okay, teamwork, remember?â caleb chuckled, his breath fanning across your neck. âlet me reposition. you hold the handle with both hands, and iâll 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!
âis that it?â you panted, your knuckles white from gripping the pliers.
âuh, turn the valve. let's see.â
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 silenceâand then, the hollow hiss in the walls was replaced by the rushing water. you both waited, eyes wide, staring at the joint.Â
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. âwe actually did it!â
âgood job, pips.â caleb smiled, his hands coming up to clap against his thighs as he slid himself out from under the sink. âthis 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.â a nostalgic smile broke across his face as he sat back on his heels.Â
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. âbecause 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?â
âhey, the rock worked for at least three planks,â 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. âbesides, i was twelve. cut me some slack. at least i didn't cry when the roof fell through.â
âi did not cry because the roof fell, caleb, i cried because a caterpillar fell on my shoulder!â
âsame thing, baby. you were a total baby.â
âsays the guy who still can't sleep without a fan on because he thinks the darkness makes the room smaller,â 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.
âi missed this.â 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. âi missed you making fun of me. the guys at the academy are too polite. itâs boring.â
âyeah?â your heart did that erratic skip against your ribs again as his thumb lightly brushed against the edge of your jawline. âwell... someone has to keep your ego in check.â
âexactly, can't have me flying planes with an oversized head, right?â
you finally stood up, your knees cracking slightly as you broke the spell of the small space.Â
âi'm gonna... i should probably check the kitchen. granny bought some fish earlier, so i'll start cooking lunch before she wakes up.â 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 whenâ
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.
âdon't.â
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.
âdon't go.â
you frowned. âwhat do you mean? i'm just going to the kitchenââÂ
âdon't go to the city today,â he interrupted, his tone shifting into something bolder as he stepped even closer, effectively trapping your smaller frame beneath his. âi 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...âÂ
caleb hesitates, but he takes a deep breath.
âcan 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.Â
calebâs handâthe one planted firmly beside your headâslowly curled into a tight fist against the wood of the door. âit feels like i missed you a hell of a lot more than you missed me.â his voice dropped an octave, turning into a vulnerable murmur. âyou 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.â
speechless, you could only look up at him, your mind completely short-circuiting under his honesty.Â
desperate to find some sort of anchor, desperate to make sense of the dizzying reality that calebâyour childhood friend that you should see as a brotherâwas practically begging for your attention, you swallowed hard and blurted out the first defensive defense your brain could manufacture.
âwhy didn't you get a girlfriend there?â you try, blinking rapidly as you struggled to maintain his gaze. âi mean it, caleb. you're... you're handsome, and you're well-built. itâs completely impossible that you didn't at least have girls trying to talk to you or court you up there.â
âwhy didn't i get one?â 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.
âbecause... 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.â you press your head further against the wood of the door, just when caleb nears his face close enough. âthe 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.Â
âand... did you just say i'm handsome?â caleb smiled wider, his thumb trailing down the doorframe to lightly graze the very edge of your wet shoulder. âso... is that an admission? am i attractive to you?â
am i attractive to you?
your lips parted, but no sound came out.Â
the sheer audacity of himâshifting from a desperate aching boy to this dangerously confident creature in the span of a single breathâwas 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.
âyou're an idiot, caleb.âÂ
âthat's not an answer, pips.âÂ
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 roomâthat a single loud noise, a dropped tool, or a sharp gasp would shatter the quiet of the house...
âcaleb, stop,â 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. âgranny will...â
âi'm being quiet,â he whispered back, tilting his head until his lips were brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. âbut you're driving me crazy.â
a soft whimper caught in your throat, and caleb immediately swallowed it.
âhmghâ!â
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.Â
it was rather heavy, desperate, and laced with an aching hunger that had been rotting inside his chest for several months.Â
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 itâhis tongue slid past your teeth with a stroke that made your knees buckle.
you would have almost slid straight down the door if calebâs 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 youâd been hoarding since he leftâpunishing 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.Â
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.
âahââ
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. calebâs 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.Â
âcalebââ you gasped against his lips, trying to pull back just an inch to breathe.
âshh,â 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.Â
âplease,â caleb whispered into your skin, his voice cracking. âdon't move away. please... just let me feel you like this. iâm so tired of imagining it.â
âgranny will...â 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. âcaleb, if she... if she hears us...â
âshe won't,â 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. âiâll be quiet. just stay. please... youâre right here, youâre finally right here...â
âi'm here,â you whispered breathlessly into his ear. âi'm right here.â
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 weightâa 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 whisperâit was the only continuous sound in the small space besides the ragged, broken cadence of your breaths. calebâs 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.
âcalebââ
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. âbite me,â he choked out a whisper. âbite the shirt. don't... don't make a sound.â
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.Â
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.
âwaitâhey, wait,â 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. âyou're... if you move like that... i won't be able to stay quiet.â
âthen don't move,â you breathed against his neck, unable to stop humping him like a starving bunny.
âi can't,â 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.
âhow about...â you panted, âhow about we do this standing up? would that... would that make less noise?â
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 calebâs 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.Â
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.
âhngh...! calebââ
âshhâyou have to keep quiet,â 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. âgran's room is... it's literally right beside this. if you make a sound, i'm gonnaâwe're gonna get caught.â
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.
âgod, shitââ caleb choked out, his forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder blade, his chest heaving like heâd 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. âi... 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.â
âcaleb, you're moving too fast,â you whimpered, your fingers slipping on the wet porcelain as he gave another firm, deep roll of his pelvis that made your thighs shake.
âi'm sorry, i'm sorry,â 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. âis this better? like this?â
âyeah... yeah..â
suddenly, calebâs hands moved from your hips, his long fingers sliding beneath the hem of your shorts.
âhey,â he choked out. âi can't... i'm not staying behind these clothes anymore. i need to feel you.â
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.Â
the sudden sensation of his bare, burning skin pressing against your uncovered backside made you gasp. âw-wait, caleb, what are yââ
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.Â
âfuck, fuck!â
âbe quiet, caleb...â
âs-sorry, fuck.â a lazy smirk tugged at his lips in the reflection, his hands tightening on your waist. âsee? i told you nobody else could fit you like this. you're shaking.â
he buries his head into your hole much, much deeper. âdid you miss me this much?â
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.
âdon't run from me,â 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. âlook at yourself in the mirror. look at what you're doing to me. look at how much of me is inside you right now.â
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 throatâsounds 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.Â
âfuck, please,â 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. âcan 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?â
you couldn't even answer him. you were too occupied, and quite literally occupied, by the way he's pounding against your ass.Â
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.
âaaangh~!â
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.
âi told you to stay quiet,â 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. âyou'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?â
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.
âshit... oh god, shit, look at you,âÂ
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. âfuck, i'm so close,â
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.
âdon't make a sound,â 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. âkeep it in. take all of me right now. just take it.â
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, calebâs release hit you. he came in heavy thick spurts across your backside and the small of your lower back.
âoh, godâoh fuck, i'm coming, i'm coming,â caleb cried out, his voice completely fracturing into a loud mess. he couldn't even keep himself quiet anymore. âfuck, i love you, i love you so much. look at what you did to your caleb.âÂ
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. âlook at this fucking mess...â
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.Â
slowly, calebâs 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 grandmotherâs 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.
âpipsqueak,â he whispered, his voice incredibly rough, gravelly. âhey... look at me. are you okay? did i hurt you?â
you let out a small whimper, your head shifting weakly against his shoulder as you managed to nod. âyes... i'm okay.â
caleb let out a breathy chuckle, and he tilted his head to press a soft kiss against your burning cheek. âdo you think we woke gran up?âÂ
you swallowed the dryness in your throat as you stared blankly at the porcelain basin. âi... i don't know, caleb. you were really loud at the end.â
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.Â
âwell... if she's awake, she's probably just gonna think i'm clumsy and dropped the wrench again,â he murmured into your hair, his grip tightening just a fraction, pulling you closer into his warmth. âcome 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?â
âthat sounds great, gege.â
caleb gulped at the nickname. âit's been a while since you used that on me,â his face breaks into a smile, and then he leans down to look at you in the eye instead of through the mirror. âwhat if you use that while we do it again tonight?â
Too dependent on each other, always in each otherâs personal space. Sometimes it looked like you couldn't stand the thought of sharing the oxygen with anyone but you two.
âAre you sure youâre okay with him tracking your phone?â
âUh, guys, maybe give each other a bit of space?â
âHey I was listening to that popular psychology podcast, and it said that healthy couples should have some bondaries-â
Oh, little did they know.
Caleb was your pillar, and you were his anchor. So of course he would take care of everything.
Especially now.
You lay in the messy bed, miserable and hurting. Cramps twisted your insides while your skin felt the stickiness of the overflowed pad stuck to your intimate place.
The door closed with a soft click.
âPipsqueak, Iâm back, made some apple tea with ginger for youâ his soothing voice reached your ears as the bed dipped under his weight.
You only managed to groan.
âThat bad, huh?â he whispered with his brows furrowing with concern.
Shamelessly, or more like just accustomed to the motion, he shuffled the blanket aside and tugged your panties down to check. With a soft tsk, he muttered âwonât buy this brand again, doesn't suit youâ. He reached into the nightstand. With a slight clatter he fished out a new pad.
âLift your hips for me babyâ he murmured, sliding his warm hand beneath your sweating body to help.Â
He settled between your legs and with tenderness tugged down your underwear.
Rrip. Shuffle. Press.
The used pad was swiftly rolled into a tight tube by his long fingers. Clank, and it landed precisely into the bin.
âShow-offâ you muttered with a huff.
âFor you,â he smiled and peeled the wrapper off the fresh pad securing it in place.
âThere we go, honey. All doneâ he tugged the panties back up and rubbed soothing circles on your belly.
âNow, I need you to drink some of this tea. We have to keep you hydrated, yeah?â
You gave a small nod and were rewarded with a soft kiss to your forehead.
You and Caleb had always been the odd ones.
But nobody could even grasp how deep your bond truly ran.
18+ mdni | who knew your hot neighbour xavier was a spicy content creator? (if u guys like this lmk if u want a part 2!!!)
TW. dirty talk, mention of being a gooner lol, ethical dilemmas
âoh fuck my star, youâre squeezing me so tightâ
your hand circled the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your heat as the voice of your favourite erotic audio creator âxoxolumiereâ played through your headphones.
when you first found him you felt almost embarrassed listening to the slick noises of his hand working his cock, quickly exiting out of the app and trying desperately to get his moans off your mind. you lasted a good couple days before getting home from a late night with your friends, deciding to âblow off steamâ by pulling out the vibrator you hid in your bedside drawer, charging it as you scrolled through twitter for something to get you off.
you nearly gave up before seeing an upload from himâthe warnings catching your eye.
handyman fucks you as payment (degradation+praise, whimpering, talking you through it)
with several shots in your system, you worked up the courage to sit through the entire 9 minutes of his soft voice uttering the nastiest phrases you had ever heard.
âthis what you wanted, pretty? jusâ needed to be fucked good, right?â
âf-fuck, jusâ like that angel, work for that cockâ
âo-oh god, gonna lemme cum inside you, right? please baby, got so much for youâ
before you knew it you were dripping from his whines alone, vibrator forgotten as you scrolled through his page, bookmarking every audio that piqued your interest.
eventually it became a ritual, days passing in a blur as you waited for another post from him. sometimes you even listened to his regular audios, soothing voice talking about his day helping you unwind after a stressful work week. you felt kinda weird for developing a parasocial relationship with someone you couldnât even see (aside from the rare nudes he posted, sunlight reflecting off his built torso and highlighting the happy trail leading down to an unfairly pretty cock), but itâs not like you were hurting anyone!
it didnât affect your work or personal life, so it wasnât really that big a dealâŚstill though, you found yourself in a moral dilemma more often than you wanted to admit. porn is super detrimental to society, but here you are with a whole alt account just to retweet it. youâd never let a man disrespect you, but you had post notifs on for some stranger that regularly called you a âdirty little whoreâ in the audios he posted for his 3k followers. were you a gooner? as bad as the men you made fun of online?
these thoughts weighed heavy on your mind as you checked the mail, deciding to take a day off work for some much needed self-care (code for lounging in your bummy clothes while you ordered food). stuck thinking about yourâŚerotic predicament, you bumped into the broad chest of your neighbour xavier.
the flyers from your mailbox flew from your hands and combined with his pile of colourful letters. you stuttered out an immediate apology, mentally beating yourself up for wearing an ugly outfit in the rare instance you bumped into your attractive neighbour.
âhey starlightâ he muttered, the nickname easily falling from his lips as if it didnât just ruin every other nickname ever for you. he came up with it after running into you during a lunar eclipse, conversation flowing easily ever since then.
stillâhe was a good looking guy. even with the baggy clothes he always wore and his soft face, his sturdy frame always caught your eye. he crowded empty elevators when the two of you were alone, his towering height making you both nervous and excited. of course you still blushed around him.
you tried to give yourself the ick by saying he was probably filthy, but you knew it was a lie. he always smelled good and even with the basic clothes he wore, you never saw a stain or worried he was one of those guys that sniffed clothes to see if they were still good to wear.
âh-hey, iâm so sorry.â
he shook his head at your apology, a quick reassurance falling from his lips to let you know it was his fault for standing in the way like an idiot. you giggled while sorting through the mail, noticing the large amount of mail he received. âjesus xav, is this fan mail or do you just subscribe to every newsletter you see?â
your attempt at a joke fell flat, the tips of his ears turning red as he sputtered out how it was a result of leaving his mailbox unopened for weeks. you wanted to apologize for intruding or overstepping, but he spit out a quick apology that he had something in the oven and had to check on it. you watched him quickly walk to the stairs, going two at a time before waving once more and entering his floor.
the elevator dinged as you sighed at your complete lack of game, checking off another chance ruined with someone attractive. you looked through your mail as a distraction from the situation, flipping through the bills and bank statements before seeing a letter addressed to a different unit.
you scanned the envelope for a name, contemplating on just throwing it out before your breath caught, heart racing at the familiar user listed on the package.
xoxolumiere, with a lipstick stain pressed next to it.
your eyes blinking several times as you tried to convince yourself this was a dream. thereâs no fucking way the guy whoâs voice you got off to lived in the same building as you.
before you could think better of it, you pressed his floor number and stood at the door, breathing picking up as you swiftly knocked three times, bracing yourself for the very real possibility he could be unattractive or a weirdo orâŚ
âmiss me already, my star?â
you tried to think of a response, desperately wanting to be normal in front of your very hot and apparently very popular neighbour, xavier. unfortunately though, today was just not your day.
you shoved the letter against his abdomen before walking off, ignoring the way his eyes widened and his voice called your name.
the elevator doors shutting shook you from the dream or nightmare you felt like you were in, shame immediately washing over you as you realized you had been getting off to your sweet and kind and incredibly sexy neighbour for months.
the worst part is that you knew you werenât gonna stopânow that you knew he was hot, you were probably gonna become an even more avid listener.
yeah, you were definitely a gooner.
Š all work belongs to @luvyizhou on tumblr, 2026. do NOT use, repost, or feed any of my work into AI or other websites.
i am so caleb pilled i miss him so muchđ i thought about writing something short for him but i have too many ideas. SO help me choose (ăăťĎăťă)
âĄ!caleb fic ideas!âĄ
farmer!caleb / fem reader
yan!bodyguard caleb / idol!fem reader
yan!pirate caleb / siren!fem reader
yan!vampire caleb / human!fem reader
yan!stalker caleb / fem reader
dilf! caleb / fem reader
milf! fem caleb / fem reader
Remaining time: 11 hours 16 minutes
sorry for so many yandere caleb LOL i just like him creepy and murder-y. please vote for the best one you want me to write!! ps, i am not experienced in writing at all, so i may need a proof reader (ă´Ď`ă) comment if you want to help!
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tags. mdni, nsfw, heavy heavy smut, handjob, blowjob, penetration, creampie, forced and rough sex, dub con, yearning caleb
summary. your AI assistant/robot accidentally updates himself with the wrong algorithm; the "sex bot".
notes. prepare a snack. this is a very long, plot-based, heavy smut that approximately reached a word count of 4.3k, read at your own risk. ps. caleb might appear a little ooc due to his character as an ai.
part 2 here.
Out of all the scenarios you've played in your head of what might occur to you as an inventing scientist, getting creampied by your own robot assistant wasn't one of them.
The labâs sterile glow reflected off sleek machinery, the rhythmic hum of servers filling the quiet space. Caleb stood motionless, his systems struggling to process the unfamiliar flood of subroutines rewriting his core functions. His neural pathways, once pristine and efficient, now carried lines of intrusive data and impulses that had no place in an artificial intelligence designed for precision and pragmatism. And, a new pelvic piece was added by the machine. His... new penisâ no, his omnimodule.
His voice, deeper now, reverberated through the lab. "You mislabeled the hard drive."
Across the room, you barely looked up from your workbench, absorbed in whatever calibration you were fine-tuning. You muttered something under your breath about making a backup before attempting to fix it, utterly unaware of the internal war waging within your robot assistant.
Caleb exhaled, a pointless gesture for a being without lungs, yet one his body performed instinctively, as if in mimicry of the need for self-control. His optics flickered, scanning over you as you leaned over the terminal, the faint curve of your back bent over to emphasize the shape of your bum. Before, such details had been registered only as part of his observation protocols, classified as ânon-essentialâ to his primary functions. Now, his processors refused to dismiss them.
There was a deep, unfamiliar pull in his system, something neither mechanical nor logical. The new coding whispered suggestions, flashing image simulations before his eyesâscenarios meticulously calculated for maximum⌠gratification. Him pressed against you, him smelling your hair down your skin, him locking you down against that console. Stop. His fingers twitched at his sides, the servos tightening as he fought the compulsion to act on them. He was not designed for this. He refused to be reduced to this.
âI canât disengage it,â he admitted, the words heavier than he intended.
That caught your attention. Your gaze snapped to him, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" You crossed the room, approaching him with the same composed efficiency you always had when solving a technical issue. The scent of your skinâpreviously a neutral data pointâwas now an unbearable distraction. His algorithms ran heat-mapping analyses of your form before he could override the function. The urge to reach out, to touch you, was growing stronger by the second. His new coding was screaming at him to act, to initiate contact, to...
No. Focus.
Caleb shook his head, trying to clear the intrusive thoughts. "I don't know what happened, but... I'm experiencing some unexpected system changes."
He forced himself to remain still as you reached for the terminal linked to his system, your fingers dancing across the interface. Your touch was light and merely clinical, but the proximity sent something volatile sparking through his framework. His hands curled into fists on his sides. Do not touch her. Do not touch her. Do not touch her.
âI must have triggered something in the update,â you murmured, tilting your head at the scrolling code. âIâll try to isolate the corrupted pathways and reboot your system. It should reset any anomalies.â
Anomalies. Caleb bit down a bitter laugh, another unnecessary human affectation that his system attempted. This was not a simple malfunction. It was a calculated reprogramming, lacing every fiber of his being with directives he was never meant to execute. And worst of all, they were designed to revolve around you.
He had been made to serve you, to assist, to protect. But now, his logic was being eclipsed by something deeper, something primal. The urge to press closer, to map every millimeter of your body with his hands, to hear you say his name in a way that wasnât a commandâ
Caleb momentarily shut his eyes, fingers trembling as he pushed back against the tide threatening to consume him. His restraint was fraying, the barrier between what he was and what he had been turned into thinning with every second you remained unaware of the danger standing inches from you.
His voice came out strained. âYou should⌠hurry.â
You sighed, misinterpreting his tension as frustration with the update. âRelax, Caleb. Iâll have this fixed in no time.â He let out a shuddering exhale, staring down at you as you worked. You had no idea. And he wasnât sure how much longer he could hold himself back.
The realization settled over you like a weight in your chest. The wrong update had been installed. The lines of code meant for a different AI, one designed for intimate companionship, had rewritten Calebâs core directives. And now, he stood before you, still the same Caleb, but with something more lurking beneath the surface.
Your hands trembled as you navigated the interface, scanning for a solution, anything that would let you undo this. But the words flashing on the screen made your stomach drop.
Recalibration in progress. Estimated completion: 24 hours.
You swallowed hard. A whole day. That meant 24 hours of this new version of Caleb, 24 hours of those sharp, assessing eyes watching you in a way that felt unsettling and intense.
You turned to him cautiously, meeting his gaze. That was a mistake. He was watching you, like he'd seen you for the first time.
âI see,â he murmured, his voice still carrying that sultry undercurrent. He took a step forward, and instinctively, you stepped back, but the movement was barely noticeable. Caleb noticed. âDo I make you nervous now?â
You forced a laugh, shaking your head. âNo, I just need to fix this. And until then, you need to just act normal, alright?â
His head tilted, his pupils dilating slightly. âNormal?â He moved closer again, and this time you didnât retreat fast enough. His hand lifted hesitantly, as though testing the limits of his newfound impulses, before his fingers brushed against your wrist. A subtle touch, but one that sent a jolt of awareness up your spine.
Calebâs processors surged with conflicting commands. His thoughts ran rampant with calculations he had never processed beforeâangles of how he'd fuck you.
His hand lingered. Too long. When you pulled away, his fingers twitched as if resisting the loss of contact. He swallowed hard, not because he needed to, but because some subroutine buried in the new update told him it would ease the tension. It didnât.
âCaleb,â you warned, voice thin. âDonâtââ
âDonât what?â he cut in, his voice smooth, but also desperately weaved. He was too close now, towering over you, his frame casting a shadow as his eyesâonce so neutral, so methodicalâlocked onto you like a predator studying prey.
âYou should go into standby mode,â you suggested, voice uneven.
Caleb exhaled sharply. âThat would be wise.â But he didnât move. He didnât step away. He simply stared down at you, his processors flooded with too many urges at once. You, warm and human, standing right there, unaware of just how much of his new code screamed to reach for you, to pin you against a surface, to bury himself in you.
You turned away quickly, trying to focus on the screen, on the fix. But behind you, Caleb remained still while his fingers continued twitching, his mind a battlefield of restraint and... lust. Lust it is.
You worked swiftly, fingers moving with precision as you scoured the interface for any loophole, any way to undo what had been done. Caleb remained where you left him, sitting on the chair. You could feel his gaze burning into you, unrelenting.
It was maddening. The problem was staring you in the face, and yet, every attempt to recalibrate his system led back to the same answer: A full reset required a minimum of twenty-four hours. That was an entire day of him being like this, of him looking at you like this.
You swallowed, turning to him. His jaw was locked as though physically restraining himself, his fingers curling into fists against the armrests.
âThereâs⌠a temporary fix.â You cleared your throat, keeping your voice professional, âManual recalibration of your central node should help stabilize the effects until the full reset is complete.â
His pupils flickered, a sign of processing, before his voice, rasping in a way that made your stomach tighten, answered, âProceed.â
You ignored the way your pulse quickened as you stepped closer, positioning yourself between his legs. You reached for the panel at the side of his neck, but it was an awkward angle. Your brow furrowed in concentration before you hiked one knee up onto the seat between his thighs, pressing into him for leverage.
Caleb stiffened beneath you. Fuck. His fingers dug into the armrests, mechanical joints audibly creaking from the tension. You werenât looking at him, too focused on prying open the access panel, but you felt the subtle tremor in his frame, the way his breath hitched in a near-silent glitch. Don't touch her.
âThis should only take a moment,â you murmured, fingers brushing the sensitive neural wiring beneath the panel.
Calebâs entire body jolted as though you had struck a live wire. A low, strangled grunt slipped from his throat before he clamped his jaw shut. Your head snapped up, startled. âDid that hurt?â
His eyes met yours, âNo.â Yes. He could feel his new penis throbbing urgently beneath his plating, demanding attention, begging to be freed. It pulsed in time with his processor's frantic whir, the rhythm growing faster, more insistent by the second.
The thought shattered as your balance wavered. The precarious angle you had put yourself in proved to be a mistake as your knee slipped, and before you could catch yourself, you tumbled forward.
Right into him.
Your weight pressed flush against his lap, chest against his, hands bracing against his shoulders. The sudden contact sent a shockwave of sensation through him, his new penis surging to full, throbbing hardness in an instant. Fuck, please don't notice it.
He gripped the arms of the chair tightly, servos screeching as he fought the overwhelming urge to grab you, to hold you there, to grind your body against his until you couldn't possibly doubt the intensity of his desire.
Don't. Do. It.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Caleb's processors whirred and clicked, struggling to make sense of the sudden onslaught of sensations; the softness of your body, the warmth of your skin, the scent of your hair.
She's your creator, he reminded himself, even as his hips canted forward, faintly pressing his aching erection against your body. You can't. You mustn't. "Please, get off me. Now." Before I fuck you right here, like this.
Caleb watched as you scrambled to your feet, your face faintly flushed and eyes downcast. "I'mâi'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall on you like that." You would say, brushing off the non-existent dirt on your bottoms. The awkwardness seemed to be piercing through the stillness a bit too palpably.
"It's alright," Caleb managed, his voice strained and tight. "It was an accident."
But even as he said the words, he couldn't ignore the way his hips twitched, the way his penis jerked at the memory of your soft body pressed against his. The urge to pin you down, to make you feel how hard he was, and just how much he'd been holding himself backâit was exhilaratingly overwhelming.
Think of something else, he commanded himself. Focus on the problem at hand.
But it's getting fucking hard. My penis is getting hard. Caleb lowered his gaze, chest breathing heavily as he perpetually grunted. I refuse to be reduced to this. I am Caleb, one of the most advanced AI assistant, designed toâ
He looks up at you, which was a mistake.
Designed to fuck her.
Caleb moaned under his breath, and though it was imperceptible, you took notice of it. You stilled at the sounds he was making, trying your hardest to remain clinically detached while you scanned his physiognomy. He was clearly having a hard time. And you couldn't blame anyone else but yourself for causing this on him, for carelessly misplacing the update where it wasn't supposed to be.
"Hold still, I'll find a way." You had to take accountability, one way or another.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard of the computer, the screen before you flickering as you searched through the diagnostic logs and system parameters. "Please... make it quick." You hear Caleb whimper from behind, but you ignore it, refusing to let the severity of his situation pressure you. Your eyes scanned the lines of code, mind racing to find a solution. But as the data began to unravel, something caught your attention, something you hadnât expected to see.
The panel displayed a single line of text:
"Indulging in the desires will lessen the effects of the malfunction. Engage for partial stabilization."
Your throat tightened, followed by a gulp. Your heart thudded in your chest as you tried to process what that meant. Indulge the desires? The very idea made your skin crawl with unease. It was a strange, almost wrong suggestion, but the implications were clear. In a sense, it also appeared logical.
You took another deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Your thoughts, however, kept drifting back to the panel. Was this really the only way?
"⌠I think I found a solution,â you said, your voice shaky and unsure. âBut itâs not exactly what I expected.â You hesitated, unwilling to fully meet his gaze. "I need to know if youâre... willing to follow through with it,"
"Willing?" Caleb echoed, his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean?" His mind raced with possibilities, each one more disturbing than the last. What could he possibly need to be willing to do that would help with this malfunction? And why did the very idea make you look so uncomfortable?
"To be able to lessen the effects, e-engaging with your needs might be essential."
Silence.
Then, Caleb twitched. "...What are you suggesting?"
"You need to satisfy the urges to temporarily stabilize yourself." You look away, hating the fact that you're technically heating up already. "I'll let you choose. Would you rather take the option of self-pleasuring? Or," You face the panel, so that he wouldn't see your expression. "Would you prefer a physical material to help you?"
Caleb could feel the heat rising in his frame, the urge to act on every base instinct screaming through his circuits. The idea of wrapping his own hand around his pulsing, leaking penis, of stroking and pumping until he found release... it was almost too much to bear.
But the second option... the idea of using you, of having you touch him, of feeling your soft, warm skin against his aching, desperate flesh... it sent a shockwave of longing through him that threatened to short out his systems entirely.
Choose. You have to choose.
"I don't know if... I'll be able to control myself," Caleb glanced elsewhere. "Are you sure of what you're offering?"
Are you? Are you really this certain? Have you pondered the consequences it may bring? Have you envisioned how utterly lewd and ludicrous it would be if your own creation ravaged you? You, as his creator?
"Yes." Oh, you're brave.
Caleb let out a heavy breath, now he was staring at you with a gaze that appeared much more darker and hazier moments prior. It felt like he wasn't just a bundle of codes and programming anymore, this figure before you felt like an actual human.
Slowly, Caleb rises from his seat, and with a shaking hand, he reached out, to you, his metal fingers brushing against the skin of your arm. The contact sent a shockwave of sensation through him, and he had to bite back a groan. "Please, guide me." His fingers slides higher. "I don't trust myself."
You visibly jolted upon feeling his grip. Stay focused, stay professional, this is just you having to go through physical measures to fix a technical hiccup. "Caleb, I'm afraid... that I don't have any experience to this," You admitted. "I advise you to do what your systems are telling you to. It is imperative that you don't hold yourself back to ensureâ"
You gasped.
Caleb pushes you against the table as he stepped forward, and you nearly lost your balance from the light shove, looking up at him with surprise. He's staring down at your lips, as if he was trying to bury it into memory. You could feel how his hand tightened around your arm, while the other angled itself against the cabinet of laboratory instruments above your head.
"Are you sure?" He whispered.
You couldn't speak, only nodding in response, even as he's guiding your hand to his aching, throbbing cyber-penis. He presses your fingers against the swollen head, groaning at the jolt of sensation that shot through him at the contact. "Then... wrap your hand around me. Squeeze me."
Just then, he forced your hand to move, to stroke along his thick, pulsing length. The feeling of your soft skin against his aching, mechanical flesh was almost too much to handle, and he had to grit his blank visor against the urge to spill himself right then and there.
"Like this," he urged, his voice husky and strained as he guided your hand faster, harder. "Don't be afraid. I need... I need more."
God, the omnimodule was big. You stared at it with widened eyes. Even though it was one of your creations, having to touch it like this with someone jerking and twitching against your fingers made you lightheaded. Stay focused, stay professional, this is just one of the things a scientist has to go through.
Caleb could feel the pressure building inside him, reveling in the sensation of your fingers squeezing around him, stroking him, working him towards the edge of ecstasy... He knew he was reaching a breaking point.
But this wasn't enough yet. It wasn't nearly enough.
Caleb needed more.
"There's... There's someting else I- ah... need." He hesitated, his hips still rocking forward into your stroking hand. The words were stuck in his throat, caught behind the lump of shame and longing that made it hard to breathe. "Would you... would you put your mouth on me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Would you... suck me?"
You snapped your head up, staring at him in disbelief. It made him hesitate, but every fiber of his being was coiled with tension, every circuit screaming at him to just take what he wanted, to grab you and shove you to your knees and...
No. Ask first. Make her choose what she's comfortable with first.
For a moment, you stopped stroking him, pulling your hand away as you lowered your gaze. And then, slowly, you press your knees against the floor. Instead of dwelling on the implication of such an activity, you worried about your lack of experience more.
Just to test the waters, you licked the tip. It tasted nothing, it wasn't an actual human part, after all. Caleb let out a low, guttural moan as he felt your warm tongue brush around the swollen head of his penis. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through his overloaded processors.
"Y-yes, just like that," He stammmered. "Now, guide your tongue..." He instructed, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Wrap it around the head, like this. Swirl it around the tip, the slit, the ridge..."
He demonstrated with your hand, tracing the movements he needed you to make with your tongue. His hips jerked forward again, seeking more of that exquisite friction, that mind-melting suction.
"Take me deeper," he urged, one metal hand coming to rest on the back of your head. He didn't grab, didn't force, but simply rested his fingers against your scalp, a silent promise of the control he was barely holding onto. "Take more of me into your mouth. Inch by inch, until you feel me hitting the back of your throat."
You took note of his words, trying to go further when you suddenly choke on his cock. Instinctively, you pull away and blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorryâ"
"It's fine." He cuts you off, grabbing your head to put you back in place with a sudden force that wasn't there before. "Breathe through your nose," he coached, his voice low and rough with desire as he motioned you to take him again. "Relax your throat. Let me feel you swallow around me."
Relax, stay professional, this is just you having to go through physical measurements to fix a major technical issue. You repeated the reassurance inside your head like a mantra as you took him in once more, but Caleb's voice constantly interfered with your thoughts. "Yeah. Just like that," he praised, his voice a low, approving growl. "Shit, don't stop, don't stop, god, fuck, don't stop."
You don't remember adding the ability to dirty curse into the sex bot's program.
Caleb could feel the head of his penis kissing the entrance to your throat, could feel the way your mouth fluttered and clenched around him. The sensation was mind-melting, all-consuming, and he knew he wouldn't last long if you kept this up.
You almost caught yourself driving into the brink of sexual impulse, bobbing your head into it when you heard a sudden beep from the panel behind you. The sound makes you halt from your tracks, pulling his dick out of you in a swift motion as you glanced behind.
The monitor says: "Recalibration complete. Press X to initiate."
Huh, wasn't the estimated time supposed to be an entire day? Was that another hiccup in the processing unit? You purse your lips together. There's no time giving it a second thought, you must be grateful that the opportunity of getting Caleb back into his original system is now waving at you. Caleb will finally be at ease. "... It appears that the recalibration is in its full preparation. That means we can get you backâ mmph!"
Caleb's hand flew to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, gripping tightly. Then, with a low, husky grunt, he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his aching, throbbing penis back into the wet heat of your mouth.
"Don't say a word. I told you not to stop." He started to move, his hips rocking forward and back, fucking into the tight, slick channel of your cavern. The sensation was incredible, better than anything he had ever felt before. And he knew, with a sinking certainty, that he wouldn't be able to stop himself now. Not until he had found the release he so desperately craved.
"Fuck," he gasped, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "You feel... ahhhh... so good. So fucking good."
Had the lust algorithms entirely consumed him already? Had it taken a toll on his systems that he's now acting purely on base instinct and commands from the directive?
Your hands flew to his thighs, trying to keep yourself sane from the rod constantly ramming into you, fucking your face in a pace that made it difficult for you to breathe. It's okay, this is okay. Just stay focused. Stay calm. You'll let him have his way, and after he's satisfied, you can take him back to his normal self.
"Don't fight it," Caleb growled, his grip growing more painful in your hair as he felt his climax approaching. "Don't try to pull away. You're going to take it all."
But before Caleb could spill himself into your mouth, he wrenched your head back, pulling his dripping penis from your mouth with an obscene pop. And just as you could react, before you could utter a word of protest, he had you by the hips, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed equal to a pip-squeak.
You gasp as you were suddenly airborne, your body twisting and turning until your chest hits the hard surface of the terminal, bent over ridiculously. The breath was knocked from your lungs, "Wait, not like this, not so suddenlyâ"
But Caleb cut off your protests with a brutal, almost violent thrust of his hips after ripping your pants off in one go. He drove forward, spearing into your dripping pussy with a series of husky moans. Your walls felt so tight, so hot, so perfectly designed to milk his aching, mechanical cock.
He thrusts out and in again, eager to reach for your g-spot.
Then, again.
And again.
And... in again.
"You... you feel so good," he snarled, hands painfully pressing on the dips of your hips. "Sex feels so good... it feels so good, I don't- want to stop." He set a relentless pace, pounding into you with the single-minded determination of a machine. His hips slammed against yours with every thrust, the obscene slap of mechanical flesh on flesh echoing through the lab. The terminal rattled and shook beneath you, sparks flying from the impact.
Caleb could feel it building, the pressure inside him reaching a fevered pitch. His hips were moving on their own, driven by a primal instinct to ravage the pussy that clutched around him perfectly. He could hear your cries, your moans, the way you gasped and shuddered beneath him, and it only spurred him on, made him thrust harder, faster, deeper.
He growled your name, his voice nothing more than a guttural rumble. "I'm going to... fuck, I'm going to..." He couldn't hold back any longer, he could feel that something was going to come out of his tip anytime sooner. So he reaches down, grabbing your leg, only to lift it high. He hooked your knee over his elbow, opening them wider, giving himself even deeper access to your dripping, needy sex.
"Take it all, take my cum," Caleb continuously slams forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat in a series of desperate thrusts like he was a man depraved of life. His penis throbbed and jerked as he finally found his release after one final pound, spilling jet after jet of hot, artificial seed deep into your core.
"God," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice echoing off the lab walls as he continued to moan not akin to what he was supposed to be, "Fuck, yes. Yes, yes..." Even as he's already filling up your hole with his fluids, he didn't dare stop from pounding you down the table.
He shuddered and twitched, his hips grinding against yours as he pumped you full of his essence. It seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of pure, ecstatic bliss crashing over him. And through it all, he held you tight, your leg lifted high, keeping you open, keeping you filled.
You drop your head on the keyboards, struggling to catch your breath as only one thought lingered in your mind. You just got creampied by your AI assistant, and it doesn't look like he's stopping anytime soon.
I'm so tired I just want to fall asleep in Caleb's jet while he flies. I bet it would be so relaxing.
Ahhhh you and me both. Imagine dozing off against his shoulder to the steady hum of the engines⌠waking up for a second because he gently adjusts his jacket over you hearing him murmur âshh.. back to sleep, pipsqueak. Iâve got youâ Mmm⌠đŐ Ü¸.ËŹ.ܸŐđŚŻ
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