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"You look beautiful tonight."

You huff a laugh, shaking your head. "I look old."

Sylus huffs right back as he takes your wrinkled hand in his. His body shows his age; crinkled around his eyes and mouth, softer around the middle, creasing the length of his arms. But the fire that burns in his irises are the same. Bright red and burning with adoration as he looks at you. "We both look old. You're still beautiful."

You smile over at him, wrinkles around your mouth showing the years of joy you've lived. "You're still handsome."

His thumb strokes over the back of your hand, along your knuckles. He sits up slowly from his chair, knees cracking and back creaking as he stands. "C'mere," he says, taking hold of your other hand to support you.

Your own body protests and aches as you stand to meet him. It's hard to believe there was ever a time the two of you could run around with bullets and Wanderers licking at your heels. It's hard to let go of those days, too. When you could move without so much trouble, get into messes and bounce around in arcades. Some days, you still drag Sylus along to the arcade, to play the machines and complain that they've changed since you were younger, becoming more and more impossible with every greedy alteration to the machines. It's never the same. But it's no less fun.

Sylus pulls you against him, wrapping his arms around your back. With a flick of his Evol, the needle on his old phonograph drops and begins playing a familiar melody. He hums along, not perfect, and begins swaying slowly side to side.

You laugh, holding onto his arms. "You're such a sap."

In the warmth radiating from the crackling fire, you rest your head on his chest. His heart beats powerfully under your ear, never faltering even after all this time. It's a little slower now, but you'd worry he'd have a heart attack if it was the same as it once was. And overtop the beating, you can hear the rumble of his humming, vibrating through him and into you.

Side to side, side to side, swaying because you're too old to follow his steps in a proper dance, you let your eyes close and your worries slip away. He presses a kiss to your head, before resting his cheek against your silvery-grey hair. His own hair has grown a bit darker with time, but it still carries starlight in its strands when the moon shines upon him.

"I'm glad I got to grow old with you, Sy," you whisper into the fibers of his sweater.

One of his hands slips away from your waist to grab your chin, tilting your head up to him. His profile is painted gold by the fire. Warm and soft and at peace, as he leans down to kiss you. "I love you so much," he breathes, vulnerable.

You reach up despite the sting in your shoulder to cradle his face. You brush your thumb under his eye. "I love you, too. My sweet dragon."

His cheek presses into your palm with his smile. His own thumb strokes over your chin fondly. "My beautiful spouse."

He leans down to kiss you again, even as the back of his neck tightens with protest. Soon, the song will end. He'll help lower you back into your chair and he'll sit down in his right beside you. Your hands will meet on the arm rests. And some time later, Luke and Kieran will come home after working as the new bosses of Onychinus. Your perfect family, together once again. Nothing could be better than that.

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Caleb knew his little pips had no experience.

This was obvious, he thought, considering how he threatened away any boy who dared to show interest in you all your childhood. But what he wasn’t prepared for was you barely being able to take the length of even his pinky exploring inside you. This was the furthest you both had ever gone; the most you’d done before this were heated makeout sessions and lovebites. So, when he finally got to see his darling pips quivering beneath him, legs spread wide and your cunt displayed to him in all its glory, he of course went straight for the prize. 

He feverishly made out with it, acting like he’d missed her all his life. Just as you started to question who his true lover actually was, he exploratively poked a finger at your entrance. But the moment he tried to push it in a little, an unexpected jolt of pain shot through your entire body. 

“Ah, Caleb! It hurts–” Almost like he snapped out of a daze, he looked up at you with wide eyes. “Wai– I'm sorry, did I go too far–” Just as a myriad of apologies were about to spill from his lips, you slowly reassured him. “No! It's okay, you didn't do anything wrong.” A blanket of warmth slowly creeping up your cheeks, you continued, “It's just.. I've never actually fingered myself. It hurts to put anything up there.” 

You always figured it was your lack of experience, or even a lack of arousal when you played with yourself, so you had stuck to the outside, resorting to playing with your clit whenever you needed to de-stress. Until now, that is. 

You saw a flash of confusion on Caleb's face before it settled into a smug smile. “Aw, pips doesn't know how to play with herself.” Inwardly, though, he sneered. All he could think about was how he could teach you how to feel good in a way you had never felt before, to have parts of you that nobody, not even you, had explored. He truly, truly got his pips all to himself. So, he made this his personal mission. 

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After a week or so of consistent “training,” as he called it—pulling you aside anywhere and everywhere to get a taste of you, entirely impatient in his endeavor to make you ready for him, you had finally worked up to taking two of his fingers with only a slight ache. 

“I'm so proud of you, baby,” he would reassure you, again and again, cooing in your ear as he encouraged you to take yet another inch for him. 

But one of those days, tired from all the work he was making you put in (though really, you just sat there and took him), you whined, “Caleb– don't you think two fingers are enough? They're so big.” Caleb looked down at you, his two middle fingers shoved deep up your pussy, juices and foam dripping off his knuckles, a mix of your arousal and his own saliva. He huffed mockingly, tilting his head slightly. “Oh, baby, trust me, they're not nearly big enough.” 

Caleb, in no way, was a small man. Every part of him constantly enveloped you, and his fingers were no exception. They were huge compared to yours; if you had trouble taking your own, there was a reason it took so many sessions just to be able to take his. A part of you felt inexplicably aroused at the threat of him giving you more, but the bigger part of you was terrified. There is no way.  “But Caleb, please–” 

Before you could complain any further, Caleb shushed you with a hard kiss, pulling away from you entirely and releasing his fingers from your warmth with a wet squelch. You moaned at the sudden emptiness, almost clawing at him to come back. But he ignored you, busy licking your nectar off his fingers before his other hand went down to his waistband, tugging at his boxers and pulling them down entirely. 

Your eyes went wide. Suddenly, all you could focus on was the sheer length of his cock, now released from his pants. You could always tell he was big,judging from the faint outline through his sweatpants whenever you had a hug too long or a touch too heated, but this? This was insanity! There is no way you could take all of him. 

At that, big crocodile tears slipped down your cheeks. Caleb leaned back down to your face and comforted you, an evil smile playing on the corner of his lips. “Shh, it's okay, pips. But you agree we need to train you more, yeah?” 

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You didn't think it was possible. You were sprawled on your back, knees bent and thighs pinned open, with Caleb holding you down with both his hands and his evol as his thick, heavy cock was fed into you inch by inch. He knew that if he made any attempt to release you, you would make a dash for it. 

So all you could do for now, as your pussy sputtered and clenched around the invasion, was lay there, more hazy than ever. With tears slipping down the sides of your cheeks, you couldn't do anything but absentmindedly whine and beg him. You didn't even know if you were begging him to stop, or begging him to shove everything deep inside you just so you could feel all of him at once. 

You left deep indents in his back, nails scratching and teeth biting until you drew blood. “Ah Caleb– no more please. Ish too much !” words slurring yet Caleb did not relent, continuing his intrusion while caressing your face. “No, honey, you’re doing so well for me. You wanna make gege proud of you, no?” Your nose flared at that, your pupils completely taking over your eyes. He knew that if there was anything you wanted in this world, it was to make him proud. He knew that all through your childhood, you would do absolutely anything just to hear his standard, “I’m so proud of you, pips,” followed by him ruffling your hair and smiling down at you with pure adoration. Back then, it meant foraging flowers, helping him build things, or finishing your homework. He had always had you wrapped around his finger, and now, around his cock. 

Yes yes yes yes yes yes. Feverishly now, you nodded, pushing through the pain and taking all of gege's cock, looking up at him with sudden determination. “Ca-leb–” you stuttered, the words tumbling out, “just do it! Push it all in. I need to feel all of you now, pleasepleaseplease.” Caleb bit his lip, feeling himself get even harder just watching you beg, whine, and struggle over his dick. Whatever mei-mei wants, she gets, right? 

So he pushed your knees all the way back into the mattress, holding your entire body hostage as he drilled himself all the way in.  “FUCK!” you screamed, tears flowing out even faster now as you arched off the bed in a mix of resistance and pleasure. Caleb’s forehead fell against yours. He whispered a ragged, “I’m so proud of you, pips,” before pulling you into a deep kiss. You moaned. That was exactly what you needed to hear. Suddenly, you ignored all the ache down there as your mind was entirely consumed by him. You could feel yourself turning into a mindless sex toy, existing only to please him,

“Caleb, please,” you whimpered, unconsciously rutting up against him. Caleb, still completely smug, challenged you. “Please what, honey? I’m gonna need you to use your words.” You couldn’t help but sob at that. Any obstacle keeping Caleb from shoving his cock into you again and again felt like the world ending. “I know you can do it, honey. Come on,” he murmured, holding your jaw and shaking your fucked-out face.“PLEASE FUCK ME, CALEB!” you finally gave in, fully desperate. Chuckling, Caleb took his place. Groving his hands into the fat of your thighs, he started a brutal pace inside you. The sheer length of him repeatedly hammered into spots you never even knew existed. For fuck's sake, you could feel him all the way in your womb. 

“Goddammit, pips, you’re so fucking tight,” he whimpered, sounding like it took all his willpower not to give you his load right then and there. But between the two of you, you were the weaker link. A few more thrusts of him pushing against your A-spot, you felt a foreign sensation take over your entire body. This didn’t feel like a normal orgasm, oh, no, no. This felt way different. A pressure was building up deep in your lower belly.  Before you could stop yourself, or even warn Caleb about the strange new sensation, you erupted. With a loud moan, your pussy clenched tighter than ever and squirted everywhere, making a slick mess right where you were connected. 

“You’re so fucking hot, pips,” he said through clenched teeth. His eyes were blown wide, looking at all the juices you’d squirted onto him, and this was his breaking point, too. With one final, deep push that felt like it penetrated all the way through your cervix, Caleb pumped his cum into you.  He slowed down his thrusts but didn't entirely stop yet; he wanted to keep forcing every bit of his load inside, not letting a single drop go to waste. He went almost feral when he saw some of it leaking back out of your hole, pulling out in a fluid motion and frantically scooping everything back in with his fingers.

Your abused hole was quivering and your body shaking, you didn't have the energy to move a muscle, so you let Caleb take care of everything from there. He noticed you had bled a little on the sheets, expectedly, he thought, but this made him feel a pang of guilt regardless. You had whiplash with the sudden switch caleb had, now looking at you with all the gentleness and patience in the world, contrary to the aggressive fucking he just gave you. You liked this though, you loved this.

You loved everything about Caleb. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ taglist: @meanhamster  @feral-espresso-boba

It's Caleb: smiling, breathing and living just right next to you, laughing at a joke you've just made before he vanishes in a second and is replaced with someone who tries so hard to be him, but isn't.

Those eyes you are staring at right now, for example. Why do they look just like his, but don't have that spark you've always adored? Why do they avoid your gaze when you try to search for the truth and why do they turn somber when you remind him of your shared past?

'Caleb' sometimes feels like a stranger to you. A stranger, who is desperately trying to hide a secret from you when it has been obvious from the start that something happened. And you both know the reason as to why.

"Eat while it's still hot, pips"

The plate placed in front of you looks the same; it's the exact same smell and the exact same taste and even the way he keeps trying to give you the biggest pieces on it, is just exactly how Caleb had always done it. It's the way his eyes linger until you take a bite and wait for your reaction, the way he asks "Do you like it?" even though he always knew you would.

And for a faint second, you would think it's him, your Caleb, and all the memories from that horrible day are wavering again, the anxious feeling that always exists inside of you finally seeming quiet.

But why does he sometimes look down at his own bowl and hesitates for a second, as if wondering if it's alright for him to be eating this food right now? What kind of meals does he eat when you aren't around for him to want to feed? Does he take care of himself the same way he looks after you? And what kind of expression does he wear on his face when you aren't around?

Sometimes you can't explain the thoughts that are running through your head when you look at him. Is it frustration or fear? Or is it something else that you are too afraid to put into words?

"You've stopped eating.. Is everything alright?"

'Caleb' leans forward, his arm resting on the table as his face moves closer to yours and tries to get a good look at you. Your body tenses up as you recall a similar situation to this; his cold gaze that day when you both finally reunited and you realized that this 'Caleb' was not the same Caleb that you thought you always knew.

"..n-no, it's nothing!"

Or maybe.. it's just that you never wanted to know more.

Because it's Caleb; good ol' Caleb who has been by your side for as long as you can remember and who you've always thought to be the person you are the closest to. The Caleb, who loves his drinks extra-sour and who is an expert in building his way too detailed aircraft models that make your head spin. The Caleb, who learned how to make your favorite dishes when he barely reached the counter himself, and the Caleb, who got into full-on fights with other children that liked to pick on you when you were young because he hated seeing you cry.

And the idea that this Caleb — the one you cherished like he was a part of you — could be different now, or not the way you've always loved him to be, it's just too much to handle. So you'd rather live without questioning him further, accept that new part of him like it has always belonged and maybe one day, he'll be able to tell you all that is lodged inside his heart. Maybe one day, Caleb will finally stop suffering in silence and open that part of his heart to you, because you'd like to accept all of him.

"You've barely eaten anything-"

You take a look at the two big boxes filled to the brim with leftovers, crossing your arms in front of your chest, "That's because you cooked way too much! How am I even supposed to finish all of this..?"

'Caleb' turns to look at you, a small smile on his face, "Because you won't eat enough when I'm not there. Make sure to finish all of it by the next time I'm over, alright?" There's a small pout on your face and 'Caleb' goes to squish your cheeks with one hand, chuckling at the way how ridiculous you look, "..Alright?" he repeats, nodding at you sternly and waiting for you to answer.

"..'course I will"

"Good girl."

By the time you get out of the bathroom, 'Caleb' has already finished washing the dishes and even cut up some fruits for you to snack on. He's already dressed to leave; a jacket draped over his shoulders which means that this dreamlike day you two got to spend together is about to be over now and 'Caleb' will go back to being that person again who feels so distant to you.

It reminds you of all the times he used to leave after coming home for a long vacation from the DAA; something inside your chest always hurting as he would turn his back to you and step outside the door to be gone for a couple of months. It doesn't feel much different right now.

But when you take a look out of the window, you notice the dark clouds which have been filling the sky; loud rumblings following swift gusts which make you worry about how he's going to make it home safe when a storm is just about to arrive. Maybe it's a sign, you think, and the words make it out of your lips before you can even think about it twice:

"..How about you stay the night?"

His eyes widen for a second before he finds his cool again, and you are certain you could've seen the way his body froze the moment your words registered in his head and sent his thoughts running. 'Caleb' doesn't answer for a while; it's only the sounds of heavy raindrops as they hit the ground that fill the room and you think he's going to refuse with how conflicted he glances back at you, something inside of those eyes that beg for you to say something else.

"I-"

Something beeps. It's the sound of 'Caleb's' phone — his work phone to be exact — and the moment he takes a look at it, you notice how his eyes turn dark, knuckles slightly changing color with how tight he is gripping onto it before he responds back with swift precision.

"..W-what is it?" you ask carefully and he immediately returns your worried expression with a smile, shaking his head as if trying to tell you it's nothing. "They just said that no aircraft is flying out tonight. I.. can't get back to Skyhaven even if I wanted to"

"Well.. that's good, isn't it? I'd be worried sick if you had to leave right now in these weather conditions"

His smile feels a little strained. It's easy for you to tell, because you know that smile by heart, no matter how far he'd be standing or how much time had passed for you to forget. His eyes are saying something else, but his mouth is all you focus on, and it's fine if he's lying a little bit, because to you, it means he still cares.

"You are right," 'Caleb' says, still smiling, "I'll be taking the couch then"

"Can't we do that thing we did when we were younger?" you ask instead, feeling a little bit bashful, "There will be a thunderstorm throughout the whole night.. and you know how bad I am with them"

"You know we can't do that anymore, pips'" 'Caleb' sighs, "And what are you going to do if I'm not here the next time-"

"Just for tonight? Pleeease..?"

'Caleb' knows that tone; it's the same pleading tone that has always worked on him when you two were younger, and even today makes his heart waver in guilt of leaving you to be on your own. He wishes he could stop himself, wishes he could simply refuse your suggestion and try to look for another place to stay the night, because if he truly meant it, he knows you wouldn't be able to hold him back.

But the longer he stares into those eyes, the more his wall crumbles and he's agreeing to stay even though a part of him is urging him not to; and he's starting to worry if he's able to hold himself back anymore.

"I've put out some clothes for you to wear! It's on the counter"

"S-Sure, pipsqueak..! Thank you-"

Why does his voice sound so.. weird? Your eyebrows furrow in worry, but since you can't hear any other noise except for the shower water running, you tell yourself to ask him later instead and decide to wait in the living room until he gets back to you.

When 'Caleb' steps out, a small cloud of steam surrounding him, you've almost finished half of the apples on your plate. He looks just like he always did in your youth; brown hair still damp yet incredibly fluffy-looking, a hint of pink still on his cheeks from the warmth that had accumulated in the bath.

"Where did you even get this shirt from? I've been looking for it for a wh-" 'Caleb' halts, his eyes zeroing in on you, especially on the piece of fabric that is hanging off your frame: a familiar, yet already worn-out shirt that must have been in the wash a few times too often, "A-Are you wearing my shirt?"

You grin, taking a look down at the shirt you are wearing which happens to be one of the few ones you've taken with you when you moved out yourself; only so little, of course, that nobody would notice, but enough for you to feel like you could have a piece of him with you whenever you felt lonely. It also happens to make the comfiest sleeping shirts, you've learned.

"Looks great, doesn't it?"

"Of course it does," he plops down on the couch next to you and you can faintly smell your body wash on him — it feels unusual, but that's not necessarily a bad thing, "I've always thought all these shirts had burnt down in the explosion.. I'm glad you managed to save some of them"

With 'Caleb' around, the storm barely seems as loud as it looks to be; every time a bright flash would appear and fill the room with light, he would make sure to gently squeeze you even a tiny bit closer to his warm body, continue his talk as if trying to distract you from any worried thought that may arise in your head.

You are flushed against his body, a warm blanket draped over your bodies and for the first time, you feel like your bed has become small having you two now on it. It feels different from all the other nights you have tried to fall asleep in the middle of a loud thunderstorm and simply couldn't; like you are back in your childhood home again and Caleb is barely able to wrap his arms around your back yet trying his hardest to comfort you.

And just like back then, you can listen to his heartbeat: it's loud, rhythmic and it reminds you that he's here and won't be gone anymore. It's proof that all those nightmares you've been having are just nightmares after all.

"Caleb..?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for staying tonight"

He has that sad smile on his lips again; the one he's been doing a lot recently when you two spend time together and you tell him how glad you are to have him back in your life again after everything that had happened. It's eyes full of guilt and maybe fear of disappointing you; eyes that hold way more words behind them than what he actually lets on.

"Of course."

But his voice is shaking a little bit, something about the way he gently pats your back as if he's trying to comfort a part of himself as well, his hand rubbing endless circles across his own shirt.

"..you know, no matter what happened back then, you'll always be my Caleb, alright? Don't forget that"

Your voice is soft and quiet; it's about as loud as the patter of the rain against your window, barely audible to most ears, but with Caleb just right in front of you, you don't have to worry about that.

He doesn't answer for a while, simply continues holding you and for a moment, you think he won't respond anymore and act like whatever you said didn't exist — it wouldn't be the first time he had done so. But his hand is trembling; you can feel it against your back just like how his heartbeat seems uneven when he's desperately trying to calm himself.

"And I would never want you any other way."

When the first one falls, you wonder what it is.

It's warm and wet, lands on top of your head just right below where Caleb's face is, yet you can't quite wrap your head around it. But when another one falls, and one more adds onto that already damp spot, you finally realize why he has been trembling and why he didn't answer you already.

His voice is raspy when he finally speaks up and you can tell he's trying his hardest not to fall apart, "Thank you"

Running a fingertip along his cheek, over the slope of his nose and down to his lips, you linger there for a second longer, giving him a short kiss before turning away. Your legs dangle over the edge of the bed as you stretch your arms above your head, still tired but wanting to do something nice for the man who never fails to put you first.

Some days you wonder how he isn’t completely exhausted juggling not only his demanding job but also his demanding pipsqueak. He must be hiding it.

Yawning so wide your eyes water, you blearily note the sound of rustling fabric. Caleb wraps an arm around your waist from behind, sitting up to rest his head on your shoulder. Maybe you should’ve tried to be a little quieter, a little faster to leave, but you can’t be upset about the way he clings to you—you love it too much.

“Where,” Caleb says, voice a low rasp against your ear, “do you think you’re going?”

Your fingers tighten in the sheets. His morning voice always gets to you. Yet, you sense an undertone of fragility.

“I was going to make you breakfast in bed,” you murmur, one of your hands skimming over the arm wrapped around your midsection.

Caleb huffs, amused. “And I ruined it? Whoopsie.” Tilting his head into your neck, he breathes you in, and your brows crease as you try not to let something so small draw a reaction from you. “But it’s too early for you to be startin’ the day. If you get up now, you’ll want a nap later.”

You sigh. Caleb’s right. You can already feel yourself relaxing back into him as he adjusts to pull you into his lap, your body easily slotting against his own.

“Let me help you with it later, though,” you say begrudgingly.

The muscles in his forearm flex against your stomach as he squeezes you, pressing a kiss to your neck that makes you stiffen. “Alright, alright. We’ll see.”

Tilting your head back, it rests on his shoulder. Caleb’s hands drift either side of your waist, thumbs pressing into your lower back in slow, circular movements reminiscent of a massage. Your hands find his wrists with a sharp inhale, but when he hums into your skin, you let yourself slowly slacken in his hold.

“Mm, that’s it,” he whispers, and your lungs stutter around a breath.

“What’re you doing?”

Caleb’s lips twitch against your skin. “Makin’ you feel all nice and relaxed. It’s working, no?”

As if to prove his point, his hands slide up an inch further, continuing his massage, and your back arches slightly in response. His lips graze the junction of your neck before he sucks lightly on your skin, and the mix of sensations are already dizzying.

“You’re making me feel a little more than relaxed,” you huff, hands slipping down his forearms, feeling the way his movements make for the shifting of muscles and tendons beneath his skin on one arm, the other unyielding metal. It’s anatomy, a basic principle, but somehow it fascinates you in a way, makes your cheeks heat further.

Caleb grins conspiringly, grip on your body tightening. “How so?”

He soothes his tongue over the small mark he made before kissing his way to the collar of your sleep shirt.

“I feel warm, and…” you lose your line of thought, or perhaps you’re too embarrassed to say more.

“And?” Caleb prompts, voice dipping lower, hands stilling on your waist. “If you’re warm, should I take your shirt off?”

Nodding, you pull yourself upright. It’s an excuse, but you both know that. He brings his hands to the hem of the shirt, raising it over your lifted arms and tossing it to the foot of the bed. Caleb hooks his chin over your shoulder, bringing you to lay back against him once more with a hand splayed at your stomach.

“Just look at you,” he murmurs in barely concealed admiration. He grips your jaw, taking a moment to place a smattering of kisses to your neck before coaxing you to glance downward. “Look.”

Caleb’s hand is a perfect fit to your waist—you wear him like he was made for you, or maybe you were made for him, and he can’t help but feel the same way as your supple skin molds to the shape of his fingers. Pressing his palm flat against you, fingers stretched wide, he lets out a breath that passes over the shell of your ear. 

His hands leave you momentarily before skirting over your wrists, drawing a slow line up your forearms, biceps, ending at your shoulders as he clutches them. 

“I want you to watch as I touch you, okay baby? Don’t look away.”

You crane your neck to see his face, and when you glimpse the way he looks so breathless as your eyes meet, it stirs something low in your stomach. “Caleb…” 

He simply catches your jaw once more and angles it how it was before. Anticipation makes your breath come short as you watch his palms smooth over your chest, catching your nipples in a way that makes you lean into the contact. His fingertips trace your sternum, moving lower as his hands wrap either side of your waist, sliding upwards and feeling along the bones of your ribcage. He makes it to your chest again, cupping your boobs, and you lean further back against him, the both of you trying to control your breathing.

“Please, Caleb,” you say, voice quiet and unsteady. Your eyes stay on his hands, mostly because he asked you, though the sight is hard to look away from in and of itself.

Caleb gasps, almost silently. “You don’t need to beg me, my pretty girl. I’ll always give you what you want,” he says, but you have a feeling he likes hearing you ask for it.

Caleb's fingertips skim your nipples, repeating that same little sweep of his fingers after you make a breathy sound. Just faint, drawn out touches of the pads of his fingers have you gripping his arms, the gentle, observant way he handles you making your heart flutter. You don’t even notice your eyes have closed, your body chasing his hands each time he pulls them away.

Fingertips closing around the buds, he rolls them, pinches them, does whatever will get you to go soft and pliant and needy under his hands. 

“How do you feel now?” He asks, head dipping down to meet your neck. “Still ‘warm, and’?”

Nodding, your nails bite into his skin slightly as he makes out with your throat. “Ah—It’s good, you feel good.”

“Oh—”

Squirming, your legs manage to part over one of his thighs, and the pressure against your core feels relieving to the ache that’s becoming more apparent. You sense Caleb’s gaze, his muffled moan as you rock your hips against his thigh, just a small shift in your hips that feels lewd to be seen doing.

When his thigh lifts beneath you, you whine, rolling your hips far more openly, and Caleb seems to be done with whatever it is you’d started doing, quickly pulling you closer and lying back on the bed with you both on your sides, him spooning you. Palm sliding down to your legs, he pulls the top one securely over his thigh before parting his own legs, and you’re forced open with him. You tense, instinctively trying to close up, but one is hiked high over his thigh and his other leg rests over yours, pressing it into the mattress when he feels you move.

“You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” Caleb pants, and you can feel his bulge twitch against you, fingers teasing the waistband of your sleep shorts. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ll make you feel more than just good, yeah? Anything you want.”

Muttering an utterly wrecked assent, you feel his hand slip beneath your shorts, rapidly seeking out your wet folds. You both moan as Caleb feels how soaked you are for him, your breath hitching at the first glide of his fingers through your heat.

“You’re dripping,” Caleb groans, stroking you slowly. 

Thighs quivering, you whimper, reaching to grasp at the closest part of him you can reach, which happens to be his arm again. You’re not disappointed. You call out his name under your breath.

Caleb slides the first digit into you, pressing up against your walls. The drag out is careful, and he pushes back in just as steadily, the depth alone reaching parts of you that your smaller fingers struggle to find. Pulling out, his finger makes its way to your clit, pressing down and making slow circles on the sensitive bud while you let out a faint sound into the thick air between you.

“Shh,” he says, lips attached to your neck, breathing you in. “Caleb’s gonna take care of you.”

“You’re so nice to me,” you reply, a little lost in his big warm hold.

A breathy laugh escapes him, reverberates through his chest into your back. “That’s right…”

And he does take care of you. After toying with your clit until you’re almost dizzy, slack against him, he lines two fingers up to your hole, pushing them in as deep as they’ll go. You moan at the stretch of him, clenching around him as he sets a fast pace, fingertips knocking against your walls, searching for that spongy spot that makes you see stars.

“Caleb, Caleb, ah—” you breathe, gripping his arm with vigour, rocking your hips into his hand as much as the position will let you. Caleb whimpers into your neck, watching the display, trying not to cum in his pants from how you’re grinding your ass over his boner each time you shift your hips. When you keen loudly, head falling back, he knows to keep angling his fingers right there, at the spot that’ll make you fall apart on his fingers.

You squirm at his relentless precision, and Caleb’s other arm wraps around you, pulling your body the rest of the way atop his own, thighs spread over his as you lay fully against his chest. Your legs tremble in an effort to shut, and he uses his evol to hold them in place. A wave of arousal shoots to his dick at how easy it is to restrain you, how you don’t fight against it .

“Cum, cum all over my hand,” Caleb rasps, voice right beside your ear, sounding almost as undone as you are. “Cum for me.”

Bringing your hand to your mouth, you bite down on your skin, but Caleb is quick to remove it, replacing it with his fingers. He shoves them halfway into your mouth as your orgasm hits, and you moan around them, back arching sharply whilst he fingers you through it.

“Good girl,” you hear in the midst of it all.

Your hips slow their movements, and your hazy stare meets the ceiling. Caleb’s hand stops moving, remaining inside you as he pulls his fingers from your mouth to trail them over your chest softly, leaving a path of saliva in their wake. Still catching your breath, you sigh as he directs his attention to your boobs again, pinching one nipple softly, teasing the bud between his fingertips.

“When I’m lookin’ at you from here, I can see what you see,” Caleb murmurs, voice close. A pleasant tingle runs down your spine. “I can feel when you move, smell your shampoo, your perfume, your scent.”

He gives your nipple one sharp pinch before moving to the other. Your head falls to face the side.

“I feel you too,” you respond. Caleb’s dick is leaking a wet spot through his clothes and your shorts, pressing against your behind. You shift your hips over him and he grunts, hand coming to hold you in place.

“Wait, baby,” he speaks in a soft voice, and his fingers start moving inside you again, setting the same rapid pace as before. Whining, your hands slam against the mattress as you try to push up, but Caleb wraps an arm around you to pull you down again.

“Caleb, hurts—” you cry out at the overstimulation, body writhing helplessly.

“You can take it,” he says, holding you tight. “Unless you want to stop?”

“No!”

“I don't want to either.”

Caleb’s evol prevents your legs from kicking out, and you feel a little like a pinned bug when there’s nothing you can do to escape him. The sensations are overwhelming, painful, but still so good, and you’re not sure whether to chase them or run away. You’re given neither option, anyway. 

Eventually, you stop fighting, going boneless atop him.

“See? Knew you could do it,” Caleb breathes.

By the time he slows, you’re not sure if you want him to. He halts to a slow grind inside you, thumb finding your clit as you moan weakly. Then, he scissors your walls, and your body jolts at the feeling. A third digit prods at your entrance. You squeak as it joins the rest, a tight fit, but not painful.

“Squeezin’ my fingers so tight.” Caleb thrusts them into you shallowly. “Do you want me even deeper? Need you, pips.”

You fight the haze in your mind as you reply. “Been so good to me, Caleb. I want you to have it. Want you inside.”

Caleb nips the shell of your ear, shoving his fingers as deep as they’ll go before pulling them out, releasing his evol’s hold on your body to pull your shorts and panties down your hips. You move your legs to help him get them past your knees, kicking them off when they slip down to your ankles to the far corner of the bed. 

Grabbing an unoccupied pillow, he tugs it closer and flips you both over, slipping it beneath your hips. You let out a breath as your cheek meets the mattress, going lax as he cards a hand through your hair and tilts himself to meet your gaze. His eyes are dark, but his smile is so soft, hair falling against a forehead beaded with sweat, face flushed.

“I love you,” he says warmly, pressing a kiss to your shoulderblade. “More than you’ll know.”

You watch him. He averts his gaze downward, shucks off his pants, makes a little sound as his dick is freed. Caleb adjusts the position of your thighs and slides his tip over your folds, using one hand to smear your juices all over himself, the other holding himself up, his thick bicep almost close enough to your face to bite. He starts to push himself in.

“I love you too,” you finally say, squinting at the stretch of him—it hurts, but it’s delicious all the same. “You’re… everything to me.”

Caleb looks up, gaze locking onto yours. His other arm braces at your other side, his face bowing to press a kiss to your cheek. Brows creasing, your hand finds one of his.

“Do it,” you whisper.

Shuddering, his hips slam into yours, filling you all the way, your body being pushed against the bed. Neither of you look away from each other. The sound you make is high pitched and a little pained, and Caleb summons all his restraint to let you adjust, grinding into you gently and singing your praises between breathy whimpers, even as your nails dig into his skin.

At some point, your eyes drift shut. Tension and pain bleeds out of your body, world narrowing to the warm air and your combined breaths, Caleb’s dick nudging a place high, high up inside you, his voice next to your ear. You forget everything besides him, remember nothing but the present, pulled into a world where your growing, mounting pleasure is all you can feel. You are light, warm, held.

“Oh, honey,” Caleb rasps, deepening his thrusts. “You feel good?”

You don’t know what your face is doing. The press of his hips against your own is heavenly, the sounds you make together are lewd, and through everything you find that you can’t respond to him. Caleb loves you, is making love to you, and you love him so much, too.

“Mmh, you’re so cute,” he says, expression fond. Then his breath hitches, and he sighs into your hot skin. “Sucking me in. Never wanna leave you.”

Caleb drapes his body over your own, fucking you in earnest, and you take it, grinding back against him without realising, back arched sharply. The pressure of his body against yours still accommodates both your rapid breaths. Feeling him so deep, so close, makes your heart feel full and warm. Your body parts around his dick, lets him in, accepts every inch, all he’ll give.

Your legs start to tremble as your orgasm approaches, little tremors that, alongside your pulsing walls, tell him you’re on the brink of falling apart.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum baby,” Caleb moans. “Love you love you love you…”

You don’t know who cums first, so inextricably entwined in this moment that it’s anyone’s guess. Caleb thrusts into you until you both have matching tears of overstimulation, until he physically can’t keep going on. Then, just before you pass out, he lays himself beside you and pulls you into his arms.

—

You wake up redressed in warm pyjamas, clean and pleasantly limp, to Caleb stroking your cheek. He gives you one of those smiles that make you want to keep him in your arms for an eternity.

“Hey, how are you feeling? I made us pancakes,” Caleb says, helping you sit up. When you immediately cling to him, he laughs and hugs you back.

“I’m feeling hungry,” you pout. “And I need to pee. But… I thought you said you’d let me help with breakfast?”

Caleb hums in consideration. “Oh, really? I never heard such a thing.” Leaning down, he kisses your forehead. “Besides, when have I not taken care of you? Making breakfast is a piece of cake.”

Huffing, you try to turn away from him, but he only pulls you closer. “You spoil me.”

“Yep, and I’ll have you know Caleb’s got a lot more love where that’s comin’ from, Pipsqueak,” he says, lifting you up and walking you to the bathroom. “That’s for sure.”