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This story is inspired by both Farewell Intimacy and Farewell Dreamscape, the 4★ solar pair of Caleb. The idea took root in my mind—why would I believe their kiss in the 5★ Loneroad pair was their first? HA! No way. And before I knew it… this turned into a (yes a warning ⚠️) 10K-word deep dive into their first experience with intimacy. I didn’t hold back, and neither did they. Hope you’ll read until the end.
In a moment of closeness, a kiss ignites something raw and instinctual between you and Caleb—something neither of you fully understand but can’t resist. As hesitation gives way to desire, the two of you fumble through the unknown, discovering intimacy for the first time in a way that’s both overwhelming and inevitable. And when it’s over, one truth remains: there’s no turning back.
----------
The air was thick with tension, the rhythmic beeping of mechanical drones blending into the silence between you. Caleb exhaled, wincing slightly as he leaned against the cold, metallic wall. "Shh. The drones are patrolling the area outside. Come closer."
He barely had time to react before he felt warmth near him—your warmth. The concern in your eyes was evident as you reached for him, fingertips barely brushing against the torn on his exoskeleton suit.
"I'm fine. It’s just a scratch."
"It doesn’t look like just a scratch," you murmured, her fingers ghosting over the frayed edge of the wound. Your brows furrowed, lips parting slightly as if debating whether to push the issue.
The drones faded into the distance, their mechanical hum dissolving into the night. Yet, he didn't pull away from your touch. He should have—he always did. But something about the way you lingered, the way your breath hitched ever so slightly, made him stay. Made him want to stay.
Caleb looked at you when you were looking intently on his wound.
"You want to repair me? It’s too dangerous."
You met his gaze, unwavering.
Always so stubborn, Caleb thought.
"I can handle it," you whispered.
He sighed, defeated in the way only you could make him. "...All right, if you insist."
The connection formed instantly, the soft hum of energy crackling between you. He tensed as the surge spread through his system, heat blooming beneath his skin. His jaw clenched at the sensation—not pain, not quite pleasure, but something raw and consuming.
You looked at him, worried.
"I’m used to it. It doesn’t hurt. What about you?"
You hesitated. He could see it in the way your breath shallowed, the faint shift in your pulse beneath his fingers. He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"I know your pain receptors were modified. But I wish you could feel pain sometimes… like everyone else."
You swallowed. "Why?"
A half-truth. What he truly meant was—I wish you could feel the way I feel now.
The heat pooled between you, settling where your skin met. Your fingers twitched against his forearm, and he caught the slight shudder in your frame.
You smiled, maybe being connected together made you feel his thoughts as well. You knew he didn’t meant anything malicious.
"It actually doesn’t hurt. It’s more like a surge of heat,” Caleb suddenly said.
His voice had dropped, deep and steady, despite the fire licking at his veins. "Do you also feel it?" His hand traced along your arm, a deliberate movement, testing, gauging.
You then pointed at your intertwined hands with curious eyes.
"It’s coming from where we’re touching?” Caleb asked.
You nodded. “Feels hot. Here.” You gestured your arm.
“Your entire arm feels hot? Let me see."
You gave the smallest nod, a barely-there movement, but it was enough.
The way you reacted made something coil in his stomach. This isn’t just the energy transfer.
"What about this spot?" His fingers pressed lightly, teasing, watching for the telltale sign of your breath faltering. There it is.
"Your energy is limited. Don’t push yourself too hard."
The moment stretched, held together by shallow breaths and lingering touches. Then, your voice—soft, teasing, when a soft but audible giggle escaped your mouth when he pointed on your cheeks.
Soft, yet carrying an undercurrent of something he wasn’t sure he could ignore. Was she playing with me? A ghost of a smirk flickered across his lips.
"Your face is warm as well? One energy transfer shouldn’t have caused this… Are you sick?”
You weren’t able to keep your smile hidden when he cupped your cheek and quickly touched your forehead.
He paused. "…Were you teasing me?"
You bit your lip, eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Maybe."
Silence. A beat too long.
Caleb sighed in defeat and relief, then chuckled. ”You haven’t left the laboratory in a long time, but you already know how to tease people."
His voice was lower now, dipping into something indulgent. His fingers brushed against your cheek, tracing the warmth there. "Did you learn this from watching others?"
Your lips parted slightly, and he could see it—curiosity, hesitation, something else beneath it. He didn’t fight it when the space between you closed, when you leaned in just enough to cross the invisible line you had been dancing around. The touch was soft—barely there—but it sent a shock through him more potent than any energy surge.
You looked at him with a slight pout you didn’t know you were capable of doing. You were worried he didn’t like it, and he knows exactly what you’re thinking.
He chuckled, something deep and knowing. "I’m not mad."
A lie. He was mad—mad that he wanted more.
“I was just… trying to cheer you up…?” you also questioned as you were still learning new words. You heard this from the people that didn’t look like you. The people, who Caleb says, are regular humans.
"I know. You were trying to comfort me.” His hand lingered against your skin, slow, deliberate. "People can show they care for each other in other ways.”
“What’s one example?” you asked.
“What’s one example?” Caleb seemed to think.
The unspoken answer hung between you.
"Like this—gently caressing someone’s cheek."
His palm cradled your face, thumb grazing over the softness of your skin. He felt you exhale, shaky, uneven.
“Can I do this, too?” you asked in pure ignorance.
"You wanna do it to me?” Caleb looked at you, like he can’t believe what you’re asking. “Sure, go ahead."
The moment your fingers touched him, a quiet groan slipped from his lips. His breath hitched as he leaned into your touch, eyes slipping shut as if savoring the sensation.
“Mmm… I can sense your compassion.”
The whir of machines, the faint beeping—it all faded into nothing. Only you remained.
The touch lingered. He should break it. He needed to break it. But instead, he let his own fingers move, brushing against the curve of her jaw, trailing along her cheek. His breath was slow, heavy, measured—but inside, the restraint was breaking, thread by thread.
"We’re done with repairs. That’s enough. You can stop now,” he said when he felt that the energy you transferred was enough.
You didn’t move. He could still feel your warmth against him, your fingers reluctant to let go. His pulse quickened.
"If you don’t let go, I’ll have to break the connection…"
Nothing. You wouldn’t budge.
He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to pull away—too fast, too abrupt. The connection severed, a faint clatter as the equipment between them was discarded, the energy transfer fading into the air. But the heat didn’t leave. It remained, settling between you like a silent promise.
He panted softly, trying to regain control. "We need to keep running. You can’t give me all your energy."
A pause. A whisper of something unsaid. Then, his voice softened.
"When no one is pursuing us, and there are no more battles… Once we’re far away from here, we don’t need to do energy transfers anymore."
His hand found yours, fingers curling over her palm, his voice barely above a murmur.
"We can go back to being normal people. We can take care of each other in simple ways like regular humans."
A slow inhale. A moment of quiet tension.
“Are there other ways to show care?” you asked curiously.
"Caressing your cheek is just one method… Do you want to learn more?” Caleb asked.
You nodded, hesitant but unafraid.
“Let me think…” Caleb hummed while looking upward, really thinking back to what he learned from the laboratory when he tried to explore and research on his own.
He barely waited for an answer. His hand moved—slow, patient, exploring.
"Sometimes we pat each other on the shoulder."
You felt a light tap on your shoulder, warm, grounding.
"And other times, we rub another person’s back."
His fingers pressed gently, moving over the curve of your spine, dragging just slow enough to make you shiver.
"There’s also… a kiss on the forehead."
Soft lips met skin. A press, lingering, deliberate.
"Is a forehead kiss the only way to show affection?” you curiously asked, liking the warmth it brought to you.
"Is a forehead kiss the only way to show affection?” he repeated your question, as if mocking the thought of it. A smirk ghosted across his lips before his breath brushed against your temple. "Of course not. For people who share a close bond, a kiss on any part of their body can be seen as a sign of affection."
A beat. A shift. A whisper against skin.
"…Do you need me to shower you in affection?"
He heard your unsteady inhale. The hesitation. Then your soft yes.
"All right."
You felt him kiss against your closed eyelids.
"Your eyes…"
A lingering press to your soft cheeks.
"Your cheeks…"
A pause. A brush of lips against the bridge of your nose.
"Your nose…"
“And then—“
Warmth met warmth.
Your lips against his. His lips against yours.
A lesson neither of them would forget.
He stayed there for a while before breaking it and whispered, “Your lips…”
Your eyes went wide but you were feeling it, too, you didn’t move from where you are, waiting for what’s next.
Caleb’s eyes bore into yours as he cupped your cheeks.
“Can I?” he asked for your permission. “Can I kiss you on the lips one more time?”
You were surprised, but you admit, you liked that soft press on your lips as well. You smiled and nodded.
And so he did.
Caleb’s lips crashed to yours again.
And then he pushed further.
A shift. A breath. A press of his weight against you as he guided you down, slow but insistent, until your back met the cold floor. His body hovered over yours, the heat of him pressing into you like a brand. This—this was proof. Proof that you were alive, still human, still flesh and blood. Not machines. Not weapons. Not expendable.
His breath ghosted against your lips. "Tell me you feel it too."
The answer was already in her eyes. But he wanted to hear it.
The moment stretched—then broke.
“I do…” you whispered in between kisses.
His lips pulled back slightly from yours, but not far enough to break the connection entirely. Your breath intermingled, slow and heavy, every exhale a whispered promise. His hands moved down the sides of your body, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, feeling the subtle tremor in your skin as if you, too, was fighting to keep control.
“Stay with me,” Caleb murmured against your lips, the command barely audible, but heavy with an unspoken plea.
You shivered, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as if you might lose yourself without that anchor. The heat between you surged again, this time undeniable. It pulsed in your chests, your legs brushing, bodies pressing closer despite the almost invisible barrier of restraint you kept up.
For a moment, time seemed to stretch, hanging thick like the air around you. Caleb’s lips hovered over yours, as if they were savoring the very edge of this moment. His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling with every inhale, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. And yet, despite the need—the ache—the tension that pulled you together, there was something else, too. A quiet understanding that this was not just about physical desire. It was about something deeper. Something fragile and uncertain.
He pulled back, just enough to search your face with a gaze that bordered on desperate.
“Is this what you want?”
His voice was strained, barely more than a breath, but it carried the weight of the question. His hands, once hesitant, now roamed freely over you, pushing the boundaries you’d carefully constructed. He wasn’t sure what he was asking anymore—whether it was permission, reassurance, or simply the need to feel you give in to the same craving that burned within him.
You met his gaze, your lips parted, your chest rising and falling as you fought to gather your words. Then, without saying a word, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his with a force that caught him off guard. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a claim.
He groaned into your kiss, his hands tightening around your body, pulling you impossibly closer. His fingers dug into the suddenly soft suit, as if feeling the actual sensation of your skin beneath him only fueling the need. Your response was immediate, a soft sigh slipping from your lips as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, letting your mouths align more perfectly.
His hands slid down, past your ribs, across the curve of your hips, before one hand landed at the small of your back, urging you closer still. Your bodies pressed flush against each other, the heat between you intensifying to the point that he could almost feel the fire between your skin.
His breath came out ragged, desperate, as he finally pulled away from your lips, his forehead resting against yours.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, the words coming out as a low growl, filled with a possessive need.
The truth was raw, unfiltered, just like everything else about you. The world outside didn’t matter. The stakes didn’t matter. It was just you, the growing intensity, the feeling of being human in a way neither of you had ever truly understood before.
You didn’t answer again this time, only kissed him again, deeper this time. You don’t know whether it was because of your primal instincts or the heat pooling in your body, but you slipped in your tongue and pried his lips open and tasted his tongue yourself. Your legs also subconsciously wrapped around his waist.
Caleb’s resolve faltered. His control slipped, just for a moment, as he allowed himself to be consumed by the raw need to feel every inch of you pressed against him.
Your hands were trembling as they slid onto his back, fingers brushing against his suit, but it felt like his bare skin, sending electric shocks of pleasure through him. He groaned into your mouth as he felt the heat of your body rise to meet his, the friction igniting a fire inside him. His hand slid lower, brushing the back of your thigh, feeling the soft curve of your leg.
Without thinking, he rested your head on the cold floor again, he adjusted so that you wouldn’t lean forward and instead, he trapped you below him. His hands firm but gentle. He didn’t want to hurt you, but the hunger—the need—was too much.
You fell back, pulling him down with you. The kiss broke, and he hovered over you for a moment, his face flushed, his breath coming in uneven bursts.
“Do you feel it?” His voice was hoarse, desperate. “This... this is proof that we’re still human, that we’re alive.”
Your eyes locked onto his, heavy with desire, with the same question swirling in the air. Your lips parted slightly, only to feel the need to breath again.
“I feel it,” you answered in a pant.
You pulled him back down to you, your hands weaving into his hair as your kiss deepened once more.
Caleb’s control was on the edge of snapping. He could feel the heat rising between you, building, stretching the tension to its breaking point. His body moved against yours, grinding slowly, deliberately, as if to prolong this moment.
“You really like kissing, huh?” Caleb smiled in between your kisses.
He felt you nod, and you quickly look at each other. “Yes. I like it.”
“God, I can’t get enough of you,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust, his lips brushing against your neck, your pulse beating wildly beneath the soft skin. His hand traveled down to the curve of your waist, and he paused, breath catching.
For a moment, the world stood still. You were willing to give everything to him—every inch of you a perfect contradiction. Vulnerable and strong. Innocent and experienced. You were pulling him in, drawing him closer to the edge.
But even as your bodies moved in perfect sync, something still held him back. His mind screamed that this was too much, that you had crossed a line you couldn’t uncross. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, to see the need mirrored in your gaze.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Caleb whispered, his voice low and fragile, like a thread about to snap. His hand lingered against your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your lips as though he were trying to memorize the feel of you. He kissed you again, this time softer, more tentative. The heat between you two was almost unbearable now, but it wasn’t the kind of heat he was used to—there was something different about this, something he couldn’t quite grasp.
When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours for answers, though there was only confusion in his gaze. He swallowed hard, lips parted, unsure of himself. His breath was uneven, and though his body longed for you, his mind couldn’t quiet the doubts that crept in. The pressure between you two had shifted—was this normal? Was it the way humans felt when they were close to someone?
He had glimpsed affection, even studied it while sifting through the far corners of deep space, through fragmented research on faraway planets—planets that didn’t know the chaos that Philos brought. He knew kissing. But beyond that? The emotions tied to it? The way his heart beat faster, the way his entire body tensed with longing and fear... He was uncertain. And that uncertainty, that vulnerability, had him pulling away. Afraid to hurt you.
You felt the sudden absence of his warmth, the air between you thickening, and it was as though something in your chest cracked. Disappointment pooled there, like ice spreading over your insides, but you understood. His fear wasn’t of you—it was his fear of what he didn’t understand. So, you didn’t say anything. You didn’t protest. You knew this moment would come, knew he had to process it on his own.
So instead, you both silently allowed the night to wrap itself around you. Without a word, you let the world fade, sinking into the quiet of each other’s arms.
For now, that was enough.
—————————
The metal door slammed shut with a loud, echoing bang, the sound reverberating against the empty walls of the old, abandoned facility. Your footsteps, quick and uneven from the sprint, were soon joined by Caleb's as the two of you sought refuge from the danger that had been following you for far too long. The adrenaline of the chase still thrummed through your veins, but you both knew this wasn’t a safe escape. Not yet.
The silence that followed was almost oppressive, broken only by your breaths and the occasional soft shuffle of your movements as you both tried to steady yourselves.
“This place has been abandoned for quite some time,” Caleb murmured, the words low, almost as if they were meant to reassure you. You leaned against a cracked, rusted wall, the cold of the metal seeping through your suit. He didn’t need to say it out loud, but you both knew what was coming next.
“You must be tired,” he said, his voice softer now. “Let’s rest here for the night.”
A rustling sound followed, probably as Caleb settled down, and you couldn't help but think how much it was needed.
“You’re probably right,” you muttered, your body aching from the constant running. You didn’t protest as you found a small, somewhat intact corner of the room to sit, the floor cold beneath you but at least a bit more stable than the chaos outside.
“It’s much more spacious here than in the sleep pods,” Caleb chuckled lightly, the sound a brief relief in the heavy atmosphere. “You should be able to get a good night’s rest.”
But you didn’t feel like sleeping. Not yet. There was something in the air, something unspoken hanging between the two of you.
“Still not sleepy?” Caleb asked, his voice holding an edge of curiosity. You could hear the faint amusement in his tone. He probably wasn’t going to let it go until you admitted what was running through your mind.
He chuckled. “Then I’m not sleepy either.”
Then, Caleb’s voice dropped lower, and for a moment, the teasing and tension faded into something more vulnerable. “Wanna know what I think about when I can’t sleep?”
You turned your head slightly toward him, wondering where this would lead.
He gave a small, knowing chuckle before continuing. “I imagine what our lives will be like once we finally leave this place.” His footsteps shifted as if he was moving closer, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking for something more from this moment. “Have you ever done that?”
You were silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. Of course, you’d thought about it. What else could you dream of in a world that only felt like a never-ending chase? But to put it into words… that was different.
He sensed your hesitation and didn’t press further. Instead, Caleb leaned back, his tone softening even more as he added, “I’ll tell you what appears in my mind, then.”
He paused, as if collecting the right words. “I imagine a place called Paradise.” His voice was almost reverent as he spoke, and you could almost picture the way he was envisioning it. “There are no laboratories, no modified human weapons, and no war. Just... peace.”
You felt a flicker of warmth at the thought, but before you could respond, Caleb’s voice dropped to a more focused whisper, “It has large orchards and swings tied to the trees—”
He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his breath catching. You could almost feel the shift in the air, the way his body froze as if something had caught his attention.
“Hm? What is it?” You asked, your heart beating faster in anticipation, but you weren’t sure why.
Caleb’s next words were a murmur of surprise. “Looks like a switch for a hologram system.”
You heard the faint sound of footsteps moving away from you, followed by a series of quiet beeps and the sound of metal working. Caleb was clearly fiddling with some sort of device, and you could hear the soft hum of electronics coming to life. “Give me a second,” he called back.
There was a moment of silence, and then you heard the whirring sound of something powering on, followed by the soft mechanical ding of the device unlocking.
“I’m surprised it still works,” Caleb muttered in awe, before his footsteps returned to your side. “It’s really old.”
You felt him move closer, and the air around you shifted again, heavier this time, as the hologram flickered to life.
The first image that appeared was of an expansive orchard, trees stretching as far as the eye could see, their branches heavy with fruit. The colors were vibrant, the leaves glistening with the fresh dew of early morning.
“Paradise,” Caleb whispered, as the images shifted, showing more—a sun-dappled field, the soft breeze swaying the grass gently. The scent of the fruit was almost tangible. You could almost taste it in the air. “This is exactly what it looks like.”
You let out a breath, captivated by the hologram, feeling a sudden longing settle deep in your chest. Caleb’s voice lowered, coaxing you deeper into the illusion. “We can bask in the sunlight and let countless, lazy afternoons pass us by.”
You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to picture it. A life without the constant fight. No government, no rebels, just... freedom.
“Do you want to know what the fruit here tastes like?” Caleb’s voice was nearly a whisper, the words sending a shiver down your spine.
You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and without needing to say it, you felt him urging you on.
“Close your eyes,” he said, “I’m going to do a magic trick.”
You did as he instructed, though your heart raced faster. You could feel the anticipation building between you, thick and electric.
“Are they closed?” Caleb’s voice was barely a breath away now. “Now… open your mouth.” His words carried a teasing, almost playful note, but you knew better than to question him.
You obeyed, feeling a strange sense of trust as you did. And then, you felt it—a cool, sweet sensation on your lips, as if something unseen had appeared in the air, offered to you.
Caleb’s chuckle broke the tension. “You can trust me.”
You took a small bite, the sweetness exploding in your mouth. The flavor was unlike anything you’d ever tasted, rich and tangy with a hint of something otherworldly.
“Do you like it?” Caleb’s voice came, low and amused, as you chewed slowly, savoring the fruit.
Before you could answer, you heard the soft sound of Caleb’s own bite, followed by a deep, satisfied groan.
Caleb was watching you with a half-smile, his eyes gleaming with that same playful yet intense fire.
“Did you actually make it appear out of nowhere?” you asked, curious.
“Did I actually make it appear out of nowhere?” he asked, amusement dancing in his voice and a slight scoff. “If I tell you, it won’t be a magic trick anymore.”
You were still trying to process what had just happened. His voice was warm, teasing now, “You look like a small forest animal. The juice is everywhere. It’s flowing down…”
You could feel his gaze on you as you do feel some kind of liquid flowing down your chin, the weight of it lingering, waiting for you to react.
“Do I like the taste?” Caleb’s voice lowered again, and there was no mistaking the desire beneath it. “Let me try.”
You heard him take another bite, his groan a little louder this time. “Mmm. I like it.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the way he was so intent on this moment. “You can open your eyes now,” he said softly, and you did.
The air felt thicker now, warmer, the space between you and Caleb shrinking with every breath. The rustle of your suits mingled with the sound of Caleb’s voice again, now more serious.
“When we reach our paradise,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, “every day will be just like this.”
You found yourself caught in the spell of his words, wondering what it would really be like.
“Will we be the only two people there?” you asked softly, your voice almost a whisper.
Caleb’s laugh was low, soft. “If that’s what you want, then it can be a paradise just for us.”
Your heart skipped a beat, the heat in your chest growing. “Can we do anything we want there?”
“Of course,” he said, his voice almost a growl now. “What do you want to do?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, his breath shaky. “Do you want to be held?”
You swallowed, your heart racing, but you nodded. “Yes.”
And just like that, Caleb’s arms enveloped you, drawing you close. You could feel the heat of his body, the steady beat of his heart as he sighed against you.
“So this is what it feels like to have you in my arms,” he murmured, as if savoring the sensation. “Should I hold you even tighter?”
“Yes,” you answered again, and still firm with your answer.
His breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel his smile. “I thought you wouldn’t like this… You dislike the feeling of being ensnared, right?”
You hesitated, feeling the tension building between you two, and then you whispered, “I don’t feel ensnared when you hold me like this.”
“Am I the exception?” he asked.
Again, there was no hesitation in your answer. “Yes.”
Caleb’s chuckle was low, deep, and then you felt his grip tighten around you. “Ah, I am,” he murmured, pressing you closer, making you feel every inch of him.
The sound of his breath deepened, the low, steady exhale mingling with the quiet of the night. “Will you tightly hug me, too?” he whispered, voice thick with desire.
You felt his body shudder as you complied, and his breath hitched in response. For a moment, everything was still. Everything was perfect.
“For me, this is already paradise,” he whispered, the words hanging in the air, laden with something heavy, something real. “Of course, I’ll still take you there.”
The sound of his heartbeat echoed in the stillness, as you let yourself rest against him, allowing the world to fade away.
“Are you getting sleepy?” Caleb murmured, his hand gently brushing against your cheek. “Rest. I’ll hold you.”
You felt his lips press gently to your forehead, and as the darkness of sleep began to take over, you couldn’t help but feel a fleeting sense of peace.
“Good night,” he whispered, and the world seemed to disappear as you finally allowed yourself to drift into the comforting embrace of his arms.
The air was still, thick with warmth and the lingering scent of something sweet—an illusion left behind by the hologram. Caleb’s arms had just curled around you, his voice a soft murmur against your temple, promising rest, promising safety. And then—
Flicker.
The light from the old projector trembled, its golden glow warping, as if something unseen reached through time itself to disturb its slumber. The orchard, the endless fields of green and gold, bled into something new.
Something raw.
A room appeared—draped in dim, honeyed light, its walls lined with bookshelves that stretched endlessly toward a vaulted ceiling. The air itself seemed weighted, dense with a heat entirely different from the simulated summer breeze of before. In the very center of it, entangled in a slow-moving dance of shadows and limbs, were two figures. A man and a woman, bare, woven into one another with a reverence that defied the mechanical hum of the ancient projector.
The remnants of Earth, not that they knew what it was called.
Caleb stiffened beside you, his breath catching—not in embarrassment, but something far deeper. Something like reverence.
The figures moved with an aching slowness, as though the passage of time itself yielded for them. Fingers traced the contours of skin as if memorizing the topography of a lover’s body, lips parted in silent declarations only they could hear.
Caleb let out a breath, barely a whisper. “This is… real?”
You swallowed, transfixed.
Not a sterile, scientific recording. Not data compressed into binary code. This was not created for study. It was something else entirely—an echo of something Philos had long abandoned.
Intimacy.
“They loved,” Caleb murmured, his voice like a thread pulled taut. “This is what it looked like.”
A century-old, or maybe millenia-old ghost of desire, preserved in amber light.
Your fingers curled into your suit, grounding yourself. The image was mesmerizing, not for its rawness, not for the way limbs tangled and breath hitched, but for the depth of it. The way hands found purchase against warm skin, the way mouths sought and claimed, the way bodies moved in unison—as if the act itself was a prayer, an offering, something sacred.
Caleb exhaled sharply through his nose, his hands flexing where they rested at his sides. You could feel the tension in him, a silent war waging beneath his skin. He had always been a man forged in steel, honed by war. But this?
This was different.
“Did you know it could be like this?” The question escaped you before you could stop it.
His gaze slid to yours, a slow, measured thing. A storm brewing. “No.”
And yet, he could not look away.
The hologram continued, unrelenting in its honesty. The lovers whispered against one another, foreheads pressed together as if to share the same breath. Their movements were not hurried, not desperate. There was no war to fight, no battlefield waiting for them beyond the threshold. Just this. Just each other.
The realization settled in your chest like a weight: on Philos, there was no place for this kind of love. Not the kind steeped in patience, in the quiet unraveling of walls built too high.
The flickering light of the hologram danced across Caleb’s face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the parting of his lips as he watched—watched and learned.
His voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. “We don’t have to be like them.”
But wasn’t that the point? That you could be?
Your breath stilled, caught between the moment and the choice unspoken between you. The flickering glow from the ancient world bathed Caleb in a warmth that didn’t belong to Philos—it belonged to Earth, to history, to a version of humanity untouched by war and synthetic evolution.
And as you turned to him, really turned, the thought settled like gravity pulling you home:
We were never meant to be untouchable.
The shift in the air was almost imperceptible, a slow unraveling of restraint that neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. That lingering heat from your first kiss, from the first time he traced the outline of your lips with his own and taught you what human affection once was, had never truly faded. It had only simmered beneath the surface, waiting.
Caleb’s breath is shallow, his hands hovering just above your skin as if touching you might set the entire world ablaze. And perhaps it would. Because here, in the glow of that ancient hologram—an echo of a life stolen away—there is nothing left between you and him. No war. No command structure. No fabricated identities crafted by the ruins of civilization.
Just two souls, flesh and bone, seeking the warmth of something real.
Caleb’s fingers ghost over your spine, reverent, as though memorizing the shape of you.
“Just like them,” he murmurs, his voice thick with awe. His lips follow the path his hands trace, pressing warmth into places that have never known it before, your neck, your chest…
Your breath hitches, and he catches the sound between his lips as he went back up to face you, swallowing it as if it belongs to him. Maybe it does. Maybe you do.
He holds your face between his hands, tilting it so your eyes meet his. The hologram flickers around you, casting shifting shades of gold and blue over his face, over the curve of his jaw, over the way his throat moves as he swallows.
“If I let this happen,” he whispers, “there’s no turning back. I need you to understand that.”
You do.
There’s no need for words. You answer in the way your hands tangle into his hair, in the way you press closer, in the way your body responds as though it has been waiting for this moment for far longer than it should have.
The fruit from before lingers between you, the scent of something sweet and untamed. You taste it on his tongue, feel it in the way he breathes against you, like he’s trying to capture the essence of something Philos was never meant to have.
Every movement is slow, drawn out, as though time itself has bent to allow this moment to stretch infinitely. His touch is gentle but certain, and when he holds you, it is with the weight of all that has led to this.
His kisses deepen, dragging heat from the pit of your stomach, unraveling you inch by inch. His lips trace a path lower, over your jaw, down the column of your throat, lingering at the erratic beat of your pulse. He takes his time, savoring each reaction, each intake of breath.
And then, just as you’re about to lose yourself to him completely, there’s a moment—a sudden stillness as the exoskeleton suits react, their fabric peeling away from you both, dissolving into nothingness, until you’re left completely bare. The shift is almost imperceptible, but it’s there—something old, something human, a reminder that this is real. The exoskeleton suits react to the intent embedded in the moment, a forgotten function from another age. A relic of old Earth, woven into the technology that now peels away like mist dissolving under the rising sun. There is no weight of metal, no rigid plating between you now. Just bare skin, unguarded and vulnerable, pressed into the coolness of the forgotten world beneath you.
The realization that nothing separates you anymore—that your exoskeleton suits dissolved without command—sends a shock through your system, an awareness that leaves you trembling beneath his touch.
You both pause for a moment, as if trying to comprehend what’s happening, as if the sheer vulnerability of being exposed—physically, emotionally—has left you both breathless. You glance at Caleb, his eyes wide, his chest heaving as he takes in the sight of you, just as you do the same to him.
Caleb exhales, almost in disbelief. His hands skim down your arms, then your waist, as if grounding himself in the reality of you. His lips continue their descent, over the curve of your shoulder, down, lower still, tracing reverence into every inch of bare skin. Each press of his mouth leaves a mark—not visible, but felt, imprinted somewhere deeper than flesh.
The air between you crackles, the soft hum of the hologram still flickering in the background, casting ethereal shadows across your skin. But it’s not the light that warms you now. It’s the heat of Caleb’s body pressing against yours—his breath hot against your neck, his hands wandering, mapping every curve, every inch of you as if this moment might slip away if he doesn’t memorize it completely.
You can feel the tremble in his fingers as they run down your back, the contrast of his warmth against the coolness of the world around you. His touch is a promise, a wordless vow that dances through your blood, igniting the heat that you both share in this space. The tension that has been building between you, since the first kiss, now swells to an undeniable crescendo, its pull too strong to resist.
Caleb’s lips are on you again, this time lower—pressing kisses across your collarbone, his breath coming in soft, shallow gasps as though he’s savoring every second. Your chest rises and falls with the same rhythm, mirroring his own—every kiss, every touch, a spark that makes the world feel both impossibly small and achingly large at the same time.
His lips brush against your chest, the faintest contact that makes you shiver, and you let out a breath, half a gasp, as the skin on your neck tingles under his touch. The cool sentation on his mouth on your nipples made your eyes roll as you closed them.
Was it because of what you had watched? Or is it instinct as a human like you have felt before? It can be both. You refuse to overthink about it as he suck on your nipples, your breasts and he leaves hickeys there. He does the same on your other mound.
He doesn’t stop there—his hands trace the line of your ribs, and your body arches instinctively toward him, pulling him closer. His lips follow, moving lower, down the curve of your stomach, each kiss a firebrand against your skin.
Caleb had always been precise—every movement calculated, every action measured. But here, in this moment, pressed between your thighs, there was nothing methodical about him.
At first, he hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to, but because this was unknown territory, and for the first time in a long while, he was treading without certainty.
You squirmed as you felt him inhale the smell of you as your pussy is wide open in front of his face.
“W-What…?” you mumbled while you covered your face with your hands.
“It’s just…” he kissed your mound just over your clit, brushing his lips over your thin pubes. “You look beautiful.”
No logic, no premeditated thought. Just instinct. Just the remnants of something deeply human buried beneath the layers of what the present time had tried to strip away.
But the second he tasted you—the second he felt the way your body trembled under his touch—something ancient inside him responded.
It was a discovery, a revelation, an unearthing of something lost to time.
His hands tightened on your thighs, the weight of his breath feathering against your clit before his mouth followed, pressing, tasting, learning. He was deliberate at first, slow, like committing your reactions to memory, but it didn’t take long before he found rhythm, before he found purpose in the way your body arched into him.
He basically made out with your clit, just like how he kissed you, and it made you scream his name.
“Caleb…!”
He explored everything on you. He inserted his tongue and curled it upward, feeling what’s inside the hole that’s served in front of him.
The heat of him, the pull of his hunger, was unbearable and intoxicating all at once. And for him, it was overwhelming—this feeling of being the reason you unraveled. Every sound you made, every quiver that passed through you, sent something wild surging through his veins, something that had nothing to do with orders or missions or calculations.
It was pure instinct. Pure need.
And as you tangled your fingers into his hair, as you gasped his name, he realized—this was what it meant to be alive. To be human.
And he never wanted to stop.
Not even after you cum. Your toes were already curling and your legs closed and squeezed his head, but he didn’t stop, not until he drank all of your release.
“You taste sweeter than the fruit we ate a while ago,” Caleb said as he licked his lips with your remnants. “I didn’t know you can produce juice like that. There’s so much more we don’t know, and I intend to know them.”
Your pulse quickens. The world outside—the ruins, the mission, the war, the ghosts of who you used to be—seems so far away now. Here, it’s just the two of you, flesh and bone, breathing the same air, sharing something that is ancient and new all at once. The hologram flickers again, this time casting a flickering light over you both, but you don’t need it. You already feel everything.
Caleb’s hands move, a quiet exploration of every inch of you, a worship that feels both tender and hungry. His breath is warm against your skin, his movements slow, deliberate, like he’s trying to savor the very essence of you. But there’s urgency in his kiss, too. The way he presses his lips to your skin, the way his body moves against yours, all hints that he’s as undone by this moment as you are.
He leans down to kiss you again, and this time, it’s deeper, more intense—his tongue tracing the outline of your mouth, tasting the remnants of the fruit you shared earlier. His kiss is an invitation, a promise of something more, and you can’t resist. You respond, eagerly, kissing him back, the weight of the moment pressing down on you both, both of you wanting more, needing more.
When you shift beneath him, your body betraying the growing heat between you, his hands grip your waist, guiding you with firm tenderness, coaxing you into a deeper kiss. His mouth is on yours, and you can feel him tremble—just as you do. His body, too, is caught in the spell of this moment. His movements are deliberate now, pulling you closer, feeling the way your bodies mold together.
But then your gaze drops lower, drawn by the steady rise and fall of his breath on his chest, his very toned abs, and then—him. His long, thick member. The sturdy proof of his need, standing unashamed between you. And you saw a somewhat sac at the end of it. The sight sends a thrill through you, a spark of curiosity laced with something deeper, something instinctual. He watches you, the heat in his eyes darkening as you shift, moving as if drawn by some invisible pull, like a force you don’t fully understand but can’t ignore.
He was kneeling now that you were slowly sitting up.
You settle between his legs, your hands hesitating before grazing up the length of his thighs.
Then you touched his twitching cock. Curiousity got the better of you. You wrapped your hand around his length and touched his balls with the other.
His precum shines through the flickering lights, and remembered what he did to your pussy a while ago, thinking this might be his juice so you put it in your mouth to taste it.
His breath stutters, muscles tightening under your touch and the warmth of your month.
Caleb has always been composed, always the one in control, but now—now he looks down at you, and there’s something raw in his gaze, something undone.
He wasn’t able to stop the jerk of his hips when you tried to taste him. You were surprised, but didn’t move away.
You weren’t able to even if you wanted to. He held your head in place while we was ramming his whole length in your mouth, uncontrollably. It was slow at first. Experimental. The first was accidental, when he pulled away, but it felt good that he groaned. Until he’s now ramming in and out of you with slightly faster speed now.
And then, the realization dawns in him. A thought so simple, so devastatingly electrifying that it steals the breath from his lungs. If your mouth can feel like that—what would it be like if he was there, if he was inside you, where warmth and instinct and something entirely human would wrap around him, pull him deeper? The mere idea of it makes his fingers hold your head more firmly, makes a quiet, shaky breath escape his lips.
Caleb looked at you and your eyes were covered in lust, too, reflecting what’s showing in his. You both were bewitched with what heat you’re feeling right now.
He stopped himself for a while.
You don’t have to say anything. He knows. He sees it in your expression, in the way your eyes flicker up to meet his, in the way your lips part slightly, as if tasting the thought before speaking it. And something in him snaps.
He pushed you back down, captures your mouth in a kiss that is more than just need—it’s reverence, it’s surrender. His hands are steady as he presses you beneath him once more, as he moves against you, the tension between you building, coiling, ready to break.
Caleb held his cock just in front of your entrance, pushed its tip against your clit, since he remembered that’s where he was lapping and licking and kissing a while ago that got you squirming.
And your reaction didn’t disappoint. You were indeed sensitive every time that bundle of nerves are touched.
Then finally, he positioned his monstrous length just in front of your hole, and he slowly entered.
The tip was enough to make your head roll back. A sharp inhale, a tremor running down your spine—your body barely knew how to respond. It was foreign, this slow, unrelenting stretch, but it wasn’t unwelcome. It wasn’t something to fear. The heat, the ache, the sheer overwhelming sensation of him pressing deeper, inch by inch, should have been too much. But it wasn’t. Not with him. Never with him.
He’s slow, unbearably so, guiding himself against you, letting you feel every inch of him before even pushing in. His breath is ragged, his muscles tense as he watches you, eyes dark with restraint.
Your fingers curled against his skin, nails digging slightly into his shoulders as you clung to him. Every nerve in your body was alight, tuned solely to him, to the way he moved, to the way he held you like you were something precious. There was no hesitation in his touch, no doubt, only a silent, unspoken understanding between you both.
You’re so small compared to him. No matter how much you’re prepared, no matter how much slickness coats his length from the way he’s already worshipped you, you still feel impossibly tight. The first push has you gasping, your fingers gripping onto him, onto anything—because gods, he’s big. The stretch is intense, a burn that steals the air from your lungs, makes you shudder beneath him.
His forehead presses to yours, his voice hoarse. “Easy,” he murmurs, as if reminding himself just as much as he’s reminding you. “Breathe for me.”
He stills, letting you adjust, kissing your temple, your jaw, murmuring soft, reverent praises against your skin. But he’s trembling too, his control fraying as your pussy clenches around him. It’s a battle between restraint and need. He wants to be gentle—wants to let you take him at your own pace—but you’re so tight, so impossibly warm, gripping him in a way that has him groaning low in his throat.
And in that moment, you realized—you never wanted anyone else. No one else could touch you like this. No one else should touch you like this. It had to be him. Only Caleb. Always him.
He felt it too. The way your body responded to him, the way you accepted him despite the burn, despite the stretch. His breath was ragged against your ear, his muscles taut with restraint, but even now, he was careful. Careful even when he wanted to lose himself in you. His hand found yours, fingers interlacing, grounding you both in the moment. The way he holds you down, the stretch, the sharp edge of pain giving way to something deeper—something that leaves you breathless, trembling beneath him.
Then, gods, he moves.
Out. Like how he did in your mouth a while ago.
Then in. A slow, careful inch deeper, another stretch, another whimper that he kisses away, swallowing your sounds like he can take your pain for you. But it’s not just pain anymore. It’s something else, something deeper—something that sparks in your core and makes your legs tighten around him, your hips tilting instinctively to take more.
He shudders, his breath catching. “You’re driving me insane,” he rasps, his voice shaking as he forces himself to go slow, to let you feel every deliberate movement, every push, every retreat before easing deeper again. It’s unbearable—the aching stretch, the heat pooling between you, the way your bodies fight to mold together, to fit.
And then, the moment when he sank fully inside—when your body finally surrenders and takes all of him, when there was no more distance left between you—the burn fades into something new, something deeper. You swore you felt something inside you shatter. Something you could never take back. And you didn’t want to.
The overwhelming fullness leaves you gasping, eyes fluttering shut as your body pulses around him. Caleb curses softly, his grip tightening, his control a threadbare thing as he forces himself to wait, to let you feel everything before he dares to move.
He stilled, waiting for you to adjust to the sudden fullness. He pushed deeper, slowly, watching you closely for any sign of discomfort, but there was something there that made you ache, a desire you couldn’t deny, and he knew it. He felt it too.
“Look at me,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours. And when you do, when your eyes meet his, there’s something raw, devastatingly tender in his gaze. “I’ve got you.”
And then, finally, he moves.
Caleb pulled out fully, and his absence inside of you made you frown.
But he suddenly penetrated you, fully as well.
You moaned as he groaned. You felt him twitch inside you, and he felt you squeeze him tighter inside.
“Fuck,” Caleb cursed. And that got you giggling.
He then pulled out, and rammed back in. Again. And again.
Your body, tense at first, started to ease into the rhythm of it, though it was still strange, still new. You could feel his breath on your skin, shallow, careful—just as unsure as you felt, but in a way that made it feel intimate, made it feel like the two of you were learning something together, a new language between your bodies.
The first few strokes were experimental, almost hesitant, like he was testing the waters. His hands gripped your hips, and the slow burn of the motion built gradually between you, the rawness of it slowly morphing into something more. The sound of skin meeting skin became the only thing that filled the air—shifting, slapping, the rhythm of your bodies pressing together, growing more urgent as Caleb found a steady pace.
At first, it was a little rough, a bit too fast, the friction almost too much to bear. But the way he moved against you, the way he guided you to meet him, was like a promise—a declaration that this moment, however intense, was theirs.
His pace picked up. It wasn’t slow anymore. You could feel the heat, the tension building, the growing need between you. And you... you were already so close, so lost in it. You never thought a moment like this could feel this wild. He was relentless, but tender, pulling you into him with a force you didn’t expect, only the sound of your bodies crashing together and the shared breaths filling the room. And in that moment, with every powerful thrust, you were pulled into something deeper, something you couldn’t escape even if you tried.
You didn’t want to.
You weren’t able to keep it in. “Caleb…!” You screamed.
You came. And as usual, he didn’t stop. He continued thrusting in to you. He kissed you, no matter how sloppy it was.
The world becomes a blur of sensation—the heat, the pulse of desire, the feeling of him filling every space between you. It’s slow, deliberate, each movement a dance of intimacy, of trust.
Caleb cums in you. He didn’t stop thrusting, not until you have milked him up. He was also shocked he had a lot to release.
When he finally collapsed onto you, exhausted, your arms tighten around him, and he does, too, caging you in a way that feels nothing like confinement and everything like home.
Caleb presses a kiss to your temple, a silent promise.
“We are never going back to the way things were.”
He means it. And for the first time, so do you.
For a moment, you both are suspended in time. The world outside, the battles you’ve fought, the war that’s been waged—none of it matters. Here, now, it’s just you and him. Two souls, raw and exposed, finding solace in each other.
Caleb pulls you into his arms, his lips pressing gently against your temple as the two of you lay there, hearts still racing, bodies still entwined.
"Did you ever think we’d get here?" he murmurs against your skin.
You don’t need to answer. You both already know. This is where you belong.
And, somehow, this is only the beginning.
The air between you thickens again, heavy with the weight of something undeniable, something that’s been simmering beneath every touch, every kiss. Your body is aflame, still tingling from Caleb’s previous movements—his hands, his lips, his breath—each one etched into your skin, branded into your soul. You can still taste him, still feel the remnants of his presence on you.
Both of you kissed again. You don’t know how, but right here, right now, you feel as if you’re a regular human being.
Caleb made you sit up, made you turn around and he hugged you from behind.
Until… he was kneading your breasts.
His hands are on you again, pulling you in closer, his lips hovering just above your ear as he whispers, his voice low, dangerous, “You feel it too, don’t you?”
The words are like fire—lighting you up from the inside out.
You can feel his body behind you, pressing against you in all the right ways, the heat of him seeping into your spine. You can basically feel his cock poking your back.
Caleb’s still hard.
His chest against your back, his hands sliding lower—slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of this, of you. You’re trembling now, every inch of you alive and aching, burning with need.
His touch is sure, but there’s a gentleness to it, a tenderness that somehow makes the tension all the more unbearable.
He sure can remember things. He played with your clit when he found your bundle of nerves when his hand explored down. He played with it in his own way.
You shift, moving instinctively, and that’s when he guides you forward—you bend over. His hands on your hips, lifting them a bit higher, guiding you with an ease that makes you gasp. The weight of him behind you presses you into the cool surface beneath, but it’s not cold. Not with the heat coursing through your veins.
Caleb’s breath catches in your ear, and you can feel his pulse against your back, steady and urgent. “Stay with me, alright?” His words are low, demanding in their own way. You can feel the command in them, the need, the hunger for something you both can’t escape now.
Caleb then guided his member to your pussy again, entering it, and this time, it wasn’t that hard as it was the first time. But you were still too tight for him, nevertheless.
Your pussy is basically wanting his cock back inside.
Your hands grip the surface in front of you, fingers curling, the sensation of his warmth behind you too much to ignore. The slow burn of desire that’s been building—since the first kiss, since that moment when he showed you what it meant to be loved—now becomes an overwhelming force, pushing you both beyond the boundaries of what’s safe, what’s normal.
You can hear him behind you now, the faintest sound of his breath hitching as he moves closer. His hands grip your waist, pulling you back just slightly to feel the force of him—his body, his strength, all of it pressing against you.
Driven by curiosity, your gaze drifts downward, seeking the source of the overwhelming sensation coursing through you. What was it that fit so perfectly, that stirred something deep within, unraveling you with every movement?
Then, your breath catches. Beneath your trembling fingertips, just below your navel, you see the faintest shift—a fleeting distortion, as though something within you is pressing outward, reaching, claiming. And in that moment of realization, as Caleb moves once more, the pressure deepens, aligning with his every thrust. The connection is undeniable, an intimacy so raw and consuming that it sends a shiver racing through your spine.
That was Caleb’s monstrous length, poking out your belly.
And in that moment, your body quivers in anticipation, knowing exactly what’s coming but unable to stop it.
Then it happens. His lips press against the back of your neck, a searing kiss, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your mouth as you feel his movements, slow at first, tentative, but soon more confident—pushing you forward again, guiding you with hands that are both gentle and demanding.
Every movement is electric. The build-up—each moment pushing you closer to the edge—leaves you breathless, like you're standing on the precipice of something wild, something dangerous. You feel his strength behind you, guiding you, controlling the pace, and yet, in this position, you feel more exposed than ever before.
Caleb's hands move to your shoulders, holding you steady as his lips trail down your spine. His movements behind you are deliberate, measured, as if he’s savoring every moment, every sensation. You’re both panting now, your breath hitching with every press, every push, each subtle shift that makes the entire world blur out of focus, until there’s nothing left but the two of you—your bodies, your souls, tangled together in a way that no one could ever comprehend.
The rhythm of his movements starts to pick up, slow at first, then faster, more insistent—until you can’t tell where your body ends and his begins. Your world narrows, and every inch of you aches to be closer, to be consumed entirely by him. You’re caught in the rhythm now, the back-and-forth, the rise and fall that has become your only reality. The sound of your breath, your heartbeats, the faintest moan that escapes your lips—all of it becomes the music you both move to.
His hands slide down to your hips, gripping you firmly, pulling you back into him, and you feel the burn of him, the heat, the pull of it, and your body responds—urgently, desperately, as if it’s been waiting for this moment for an eternity. You feel him move with you, each shift of his body against yours sending waves of heat coursing through your veins.
It’s overwhelming. Too much. But not enough. You want more. Need more. And Caleb gives it to you—each push, each movement, building, climbing higher. There’s no stopping it now.
Every time you move together, the connection between you deepens. His breath against your skin, the way he holds you close, the pressure of his body against yours, it all blurs until it’s just one wave of sensation, of emotion. His voice is low in your ear, a growl of something primal, something raw, and all you can do is surrender to it, to him.
You feel the world spinning out of control, the ache in your body reaching a peak. Everything is electric. You’re lost in it. Lost in him. And when the wave finally crashes over you—slow, steady, all-encompassing—you cling to him, feeling every inch of his member as it rolls through you. His hands on you, his body still pressed close, your breath mingling in the same space, a shared release—you both cum—and that feels like a silent vow.
And then, in the stillness that follows, you both collapse—exhausted, spent, but somehow whole. Caleb’s hands remain on your body, soft now, like a promise to never let go.
You can’t help but laugh softly, your chest heaving as you turn your head to look at him. His eyes meet yours, filled with the same fire, the same intensity that you’ve shared since the very beginning.
“I told you,” he murmurs, “we’re never going back to the way things were.”
You don’t need to answer. His kiss is enough—deep, slow, a promise you both make in the quiet after the storm.
----------
Before anyone asks—yes, their exoskeleton suits magically came off. No buttons, no zippers, just plot convenience. Let’s be real, if the suits can enhance mobility, deflect bullets, and withstand the vacuum of space, then surely they have an auto-disengage function for… reasons.
In a more serious note, the explanation in my head is that the suits were designed to respond to their pilots' physiological changes—reading body heat, elevated heart rates, and… certain biological responses. When the body signals that kind of need, the suit knows what to do. It was designed that way. Science, baby. 😉
So, let’s just nod, accept that advanced tech works in mysterious (and incredibly convenient) ways, and move on. Caleb and MC had more important things to focus on.
It’s really such a conflicting issue. Legally, there’s no evidence, but at the same time, it’s not impossible for the truth to be manipulated, especially with how powerful and influential Soohyun is. The world is corrupt like that.
If it were true, what chance did Kim Saeron even have? She was just a kid starting out, dreaming of making a name for herself. But I also don’t want to believe it because Soohyun has been an incredible actor. Still, we can’t completely disregard the possibility that the allegations are real.
And you know, the way the DUI incident was handled (I looked it up too lol), how she was preparing for a comeback, and then suddenly passing away on his birthday?? I mean… coincidence? That’s way too convenient.
At the end of the day, if Soohyun is legally cleared, people will just assume it was because of his connections. But legally, even if he lives his whole life free, he will never have a criminal record. He will never be “guilty.” And there’s still a chance—no matter how small—that the allegations were false all along.
In the end, only the two of them really know the truth. It’s just heartbreaking that Saeron can no longer speak for herself. May she truly rest in peace.
✧.* summary summer rains bring about the faint scent of asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen. time stands still, fragments of moments leading you right to this very second. you take his hand and a deep breath. “anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, caleb.”
it’s all the permission he needs.
✧.* warnings first time, mutual virginity loss, slightttt psuedo-cest if you squint, soft and smutty, size kink, spanking, oral sex, mating press, dirty talk, breeding, slight aftercare at the end, pillowtalk
✧.* dawn says something different from the dark content i usually write and tried my best to balance fluff and the feelings of losing your v-card for the first time (cue rose from titanic's voice: "it's been 84 yearsssss…")
It’s the middle of the night somewhere in Skyhaven.
The street lights reflect puddles of rain left from a thunderstorm, and the air smells faintly of petrichor, reassuring weary strays and rain-soaked passersby alike that the worst is already over.
While the world dries off from another raging tempest, inside Caleb’s home, you’re in his arms, warm and tipsy from the intimacy of shallow breaths gracing your parted lips.
Smack. Huff. A caress.
Slick and hot, the soft sounds of his kisses make you flush deeper, and you tighten your fingers in his hair.
Caleb moans, unrestrained, as he feels you shift on his lap. Like a drug, he can’t get enough of you. The smell of wildflowers in your hair, how you taste like the strawberry balm he bought for you days ago when you complained of chapped lips. Slick fruitiness glides over his parched mouth, making his kisses glide effortlessly.
He tangles his tongue with yours, sending a jolt of desire running up your spine.
“Mhmph,” you moan against his mouth. “Oh… Caleb .”
His name, sticky sweet with cadences of love, slips past your bruised lips, and he swears his heart chokes on a stutter.
Cool fingers push a stray lock of hair behind your ear, and he hums, those purple eyes vortexes of yearning. The maelstrom of emotion in them makes your chest squeeze, and you lean into his touch, breath coming out in a soft huff.
The unspoken tenuous line looms before the two of you, and you wonder if tonight is the night you’ll dare cross it.
Flames from the digital fireplace flicker, synchronous with the temperature on the thermostat bumping up a notch, the one Caleb got installed because you grumbled that Skyhaven was colder than you remembered. Beads of sweat drip down his temples, but he doesn’t pay them any mind.
You gently run the back of your hand against the muggy skin, wiping his perspiration away.
This close, your breaths mingle and blend into one, the tips of your nose rubbing against each other.
Inevitably, Caleb would pull back, sigh, and tell you to go to sleep while he takes a ridiculously long cold shower. You’d be left alone in your room, an ache blooming between your thighs, and frustration keeping you up all night.
That bastard.
At your core, you understand your ex-older brother figure didn’t mean to edge you to the precipice of oblivion. His protective tendencies, while great in keeping danger away from you, are a hindrance to taking the next, natural step forward together.
As you feather another kiss to his jaw, you feel him pull back.
Caleb’s cheeks are ruddy, not from the heat of the room, but from the one building between the two of you.
He licks his lips, inadvertently drawing your attention to the puffy flesh which is still sticky from your errant smears of lip oil. With a huge sigh, he drags himself back from your orbit, as if he can’t bear to be within crashing distance of your surface.
“Pipsqueak, it’s late,” Caleb whispers, the tenderness of his words brushing against your earlobe.
You shiver when his teeth graze the sensitive flesh.
“You need to sleep—”
Stubbornly, or perhaps, foolishly, you tighten your grip around his neck and drag him closer to you till his forehead bumps yours.
Your lips seek him with a newfound determination, and he almost stumbles back into the stuffed cushion, a moan of desperation slipping past his carefully crafted self-control.
“Pip—”
“No,” you mumble heatedly, and drag your tongue across his lower lip, begging him for access into his mouth.
Caleb reluctantly parts his lips and you tangle your tongue with his, tasting the sweetness of the apple soda he just drank half an hour ago.
“Mhm,” he moans, and gives in to your momentary distraction, knotting his fingers into your already disheveled hair.
Something hard pokes your lower belly, and you whine into the heat of his kisses, running your tongue over the hard palate of his teeth.
Caleb tightens his grip on your hips, and relents into the force of your yearning, feeling the contours of your body melting against the hard planes of his own muscular build. You shiver when he dips his fingers past the hemline of the tank top you’re wearing, your breasts pressed up to his chiseled pecs. He’s bare except for a low-slung pair of sweatpants, temptation right in the palm of your hand.
Your nipples pebble from the friction of his body slowly rubbing against yours, and the need he’s been stoking throbs warmly between your thighs, an aching thirst demanding to be quenched.
“ Caleb… ”
The whispered moan feathers across his cheeks, grazing him with the warm softness that is entirely you.
In his arms, you’re sin waiting to be devoured—those doe-innocent eyes and warm, wet mouth that get him harder than steel.
He whimpers when your lower body drags against his bulge, and winces when you giggle and gently nip his lower lip.
“Pipsqueak—”
Hoarse and ragged, the sound of your childhood nickname brings you up short.
“Caleb, why do you always insist on calling me that when I’m trying to… you know…” you trail off, equally as shy as him.
It’s clear he doesn’t expect you to directly address the elephant in the room. But, after almost losing him once to the explosion and another time to his spiraling secrets, you desperately want to hold on to the man who had taught you what love was.
Caleb’s thumbs stroke the fleshy part of your hips, drawing tender circles on your skin. Those purple eyes flash like a doleful puppy’s and you resist the urge to pinch his cheek. He looks like he’s in pain—as if one touch from you could break him.
“Are you sure?”
His voice is hoarse. Uncertain.
“Once we do this, it’s…” he trails off. Years of knowing his ins and outs make you privy to the true meaning of his hesitation:
Are you sure you want to cross this line with me?
Your fingers tremble when they caress his jaw. Summer rains bring about the faint scent of Asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen.
Time stands still, fragments of moments leading you upright to this very second.
You take his hand and a deep breath. Caleb sees your crystal clear eyes, free from the shadows of the doubt creeping into his mind. He tastes the first stirrings of hope, right in the center of his rib cage where his heart pounds valiantly, and tightens his grip on your hand.
You look at him like he’s something precious —gold and gems in the palm of your hand. Tenderly, you press a kiss to his forehead, tasting the salt of his skin, and murmur:
“Anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, Caleb. ”
It’s all the permission he needs.
Caleb snaps you up into his arms effortlessly, using his unbeatable strength to carry you back to his bedroom, his lips never leaving yours.
The heat of the moment is only broken when he sets you down on the bed, his lips detaching from yours for a moment to trail down your neck, nipping and sucking his marks all over the pristine canvas of your skin. You gasp, arching into his touch, when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your shoulder; biting down on the stretch of skin just begging to be marked by him.
He slides the strap of your tank top to the side, stamping more heated kisses down onto your shoulder, the jut of your arm. Every loving graze is punctuated by his devotion, those violet eyes brewing with the storm of his affection about to snap and break.
Caleb… you whine, and he answers with a low grunt, his entire weight bearing down on you.
As kids, he’s always had the unfair advantage of his build and age to win at wrestling. Gran would often find the two of you entangled on the rug, you flushed and seething and him glowing with triumph when he’s won—yet again.
But, the press of his body on yours is different this time.
It carries a more intimate intention, all of which is far from the innocence of playfully fighting each other for the last hawthorn-flavored candy in the fridge, or the privilege of choosing what Saturday morning cartoons to watch.
He sweeps your hair back, letting it drape over your other shoulder as he moves his lips to the delicate stretch of skin still untouched by the heat of his mouth. Caleb’s teeth graze your pulse point, and you jerk, as if electrocuted.
“Nghm,” you moan, and he huffs a chuckle, his warm breath making goosebumps erupt across your arms. “ Fuc—”
“Uh-uh,” he chastises, the heat of his mouth swelling over your pulse point, gently sucking on your skin. Leaving another errant mark. “Don’t swear—good princesses never swear.”
Teeth sink into your lower lip. You feel dizzy and elated at the same time like you’re standing on the highest point of the earth, looking down at the swirling colors below.
“Ngh—C-Caleb. ”
Oh, you sound so weak. Already driven to your knees, metaphorically, for this man who had as much power over you as you did over him.
“Yeah, princess?”
He moves his lips down to your sternum, hot puffs making your nipples perk up from her dormant slumber. They tent underneath the ratty, old t-shirt you’re wearing, the one that used to belong to him, demanding to be sucked and teased.
Caleb is careful to not push your boundaries, but you don’t want any of that.
Grabbing his head, you press it none-too-gently in between the valley of your tits, wordlessly signaling what you need.
His dog tag shines in the low light of his bedroom, the apple charm a glint of red that complements the fog of lust taking over you. Everywhere you look, you feel, is nothing but Caleb.
He presses you flat into the bed, the sheets bunching up under you and in your tight fists.
“Don’t touch… not yet. Can you follow my orders, baby?”
There’s no choice for you, but to nod.
Slowly, like molasses dripping from the lip of a bottle, he wraps his mouth around your turgid, right nipple. The dampness of his saliva seeps past the thin fabric, and you cry out when he bites down on your bud, the brief flash of pain lighting up your nerves from head to toe.
Slick need saturates the seat of your old sleep pants. You whimper when the head of his cock drives between the cleft of your pussy, digging against your clit.
Sparks of pleasure ricochet from the tips of your fingers up to your hairline and you groan, mouth falling lax.
He takes his time, swirling his tongue over your tender peak, broad strokes of his tongue spreading more spit and heat, wetting the front of your shirt. It’s methodical, how every stroke of attention stacks up to a building heat throbbing at your core.
A supernova of desire, bulging and waiting to explode.
(And, he hasn’t even fucked you yet).
Caleb moves his attention to your other peak, and you cry out when he nibbles on it, your hands breaking formation from the bed where he’s ordered them to be stationed, and tangling disobediently in his dark hair.
But, he doesn’t chastise you.
Caleb continues to purl swathes of his tongue over your tender nipple, flickering his darkened gaze up to the line of your jaw as the pleasure unfurls across your heated face.
You choke on another cry when he pries your thighs further apart, settling his bigger build between them.
“Look at you.” Heated derision drips from his venomous lips, and you lap them up, tilting his head up to taste his lips. You’re not sure how you ended up in this position when it was you who wanted this. The last bit of control you have dissipates, and your body falls open for him like the spine of a well-read book.
It scares you how much Caleb knows about your body. The small scar above your knee when you crashed your bike into the wide trunk of an oak tree. The grooves of your neck now bear his kisses and marks.
Despite staying true to his word about never getting a girlfriend, Caleb is mysteriously nimble and sure for a virgin.
“Did you have another girl before me?”
You don’t mean to sound accusatory, but the words fly from your puffy lips and you can’t take them back.
Not when he glances up at you as if you had insulted thirteen generations of his family.
“Uh—no,” he mutters defensively, caustically pushing back his sweat-soaked bangs from his flushed face. “ Excuseeee me, princess. What’s with that tone? You know you’re the only woman I’d ever touch.”
You purse your lips and level him another glare, though it’s tempered by a glowing warmth in your chest.
“R-really?”
You hate how whiny you sound, like a psychotic girlfriend. But, Caleb does have a penchant for bringing out the crazy in you when you least expect it.
He brings your knuckles to his lips, feathering a soft kiss on them. “Yeah. Why do you think I took so many cold showers growing up? This little pipsqueak is far too tempting for me.” He punctuates his point with another kiss on the nape of your neck.
His Adam's apple bobs from the admission, and your eyes widen.
“Huh. I seeee .”
You drag your words like him, playfully pinching his cheek. “That’s… kinda sweet.”
“Yeah, yeah,” his gruffness reminds you of a ruffled puppy, and you laugh, tugging his silver chain with two fingers.
The scene flickers. The man on top of you cracks, and a fragment of the boy you grew up with glimmers; the past merges with the present, and the essence of who Caleb is grins mischievously right in front of you.
Like so many times before, he tackles you onto the bed, hands flying underneath your shirt to tickle your sides.
“No! Caleb! I yield! I yield—! ”
Your infectious laughter bounces across the monochromatic walls of his room and fills his lungs with bubbles of joy.
“Yeah, you better,” he threatens jokingly. While you’re still giggling, he grabs the hem of your shirt and gives it an experimental tug. When you don’t resist, Caleb pushes the envelope of your consent and lifts the shirt past the smooth terrain of your tummy, inching it up slowly… so slow…
His fingers are trembling, and you take over, helping him with the last stretch, leaning up to tug your shirt completely off your body.
Your chest squeezes with a mix of dread and anticipation when he eyes your bare breasts, a myriad of emotions flitting across those deep-set purple eyes.
Need, desire, shame, anger—tenderness.
His eyes speak the truth, even when he remains silent, and no matter how much he changes into the stoic Colonel you now have to coincide with your gentle older brother figure, those irises will always betray his true emotions for you.
Now, they’re gooey with a feeling neither of you can name, as he peppers more kisses around the plush fat of your breast. Taking his time, he teases you with puffs of hot breath and grazes of his teeth.
Working you up to a crescendo of need before he gives you what you want.
And god, do you want it.
Your body is arching tighter than a bow ready to strike, so keyed up from his few touches and the previous makeout session.
“Caleb—”
“Yeah, gotcha.”
He samples the flavor of your skin, closer now to your nipple. Your thoughts flat lines into a white-hot buzzing hum when he finally— finally —wraps his lips around your tender bud.
Fuuucckkk. Your keening sigh sends a chill straight to his bones.
Suckling tenderly, he pulls the taut flesh into the enticing vacuum of his mouth and releases it, forming a small ‘O’ with his puffy lips and moving on to your next breast.
The twinge of unending sucking and nibbling rubs your tender flesh raw.
Caleb… Caleb…
You’re panting like you’re racing a marathon. He leaves a bunch of hickies down the pillowy fat of your tits, making his mark loud and clear on your body for the world to see.
A possessive hint curls on the edges of his smile and he braces himself on his forearms, juicy biceps glistening in the interplay of shadow and light in this muggy room.
Peeling your glassy eyes at him, you huff, grumbling.
“Tease.”
He laughs heartily at your adorable accusation.
“Never said I wasn’t a right bastard, love,” he coos, cocky and sure. You want to wipe the smirk off his infuriatingly handsome face.
Leaning up, your spit-soaked nipples rub the hard planes of his broad chest, and you tangle your hand in his hair, drawing him down into the plush sin of your eager kisses.
“S-low down,” he huffs, smothered by your smacking little puckers.
You giggle, a vixen on the loose, needing to rein her mate in. “Nuh-uh. Not until you finally fuck me senseless.”
Caleb cocks a brow. “S’that an invitation, darlin’?”
Stuttering, you realize your mistake a second too late when he prowls over you, pressing you into the mattress, fluid like a panther locking sights on its prey.
“ Wait— ”
Caleb wastes no time hooking his thumbs under the frayed band of your shorts, tugging it down in staccato drags to mess with you.
“ Caleb—! ”
You whine, more turned on than annoyed by his teasing. It’s not until the sight of your mound appears, clinging to the edge of the band like the horizon of a new world beckoning to be explored does he stops, gaping at the sight with reddening ears.
It’s your turn to mess with him. “Cat got your tongue… gege?”
He stares at the sliver of skin like a blind man feeling the sun on his face for the first time.
“Shit,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful .”
Tentatively, he drags the last remaining piece of clothing off your body, his breath lodging in the back of his throat.
God… he groans. Pretty, little princess… gonna taste you so good.
Two worlds crash, sky to earth, and Caleb’s mouth meets the terrain of your pelvis. Traveling downward, he connects a path from hip to mound, and you feel his tongue sampling this uncharted territory.
His broad back almost blocks out the light above and god—you’re already panting when the sharp jut of his shoulder blades creates an attractive silhouette sliding down the last few inches of your body, finding his haven in the juncture of your thighs.
Caleb spreads' em’ nice and wide, making sure to run the tip of his tongue over the cushiony bounce of his lower lip. Shit, you murmur under your breath, before he dips his head and enjoys his meal.
The tapered edge of his tongue touches your clit, and you lose the last semblance of control.
You know Caleb’s always been a foodie, and the way he practically feasts on your pussy is no different.
Slick juices smear across his pretty mauve lips, and he slurps you up obscenely. The gloss of his spit lubes you up hotly from the inside, filling you with a pressing slick.
Oh—mhmph… you groan, panting heavily.
How was he so goddamn good with his tongue?
“Nghmm,” he moans, looking up at you with drunken purple eyes, lost in the sweetness of this sin he can’t stop devouring. “You taste heavenly.”
Caleb presses into your pussy, treating her like an old lover he wants to French kiss till dawn.
The high bridge of his nose bumps against your tender clitty, and he takes this chance to smear his lips all over your folds, rubbing your bundle of nerves raw.
Your back lifts off from the bed and you can’t make sense of where you start and he ends.
“H-ahhh,” you moan, and twine your fingers in his hair, tugging.
“Easy,” he groans, lifting his wet, plump lips from where your core is inhaling him in. “Y’gonna make me bald in no time, princess…”
A senseless dribble of drool trickles past your lips, and you feel the thick toughness of his finger swiping it up, popping it into his mouth. Caleb grins, spreading your legs wider, and lifts your lower body off the bed. The sight of a dark spot seeping the front of his pants makes your breathing stutter, and you can’t keep your eyes away from such a lewd show.
“See what’cha do to me, sweetness?” He moans and gingerly takes your hand with his right one to press it right on his crotch.
Holy shit. Your eyes bulge wide.
He’s fucking huge.
You lick your lips in nerves, unable to tear your eyes away from the undulating mass of his rock-hard abs moving with every ragged breath he takes.
“Is that…?”
Caleb smirks, a dark look flitting in his eyes. “All for you?” he finishes. “Yeah, sweetness.”
As if goading you to take the next step, he tips his head to the side, looking at you from under his thick lashes, his magnetic eyes pinning you to the bed.
“Wanna see it?”
He guides your hand to rock against the hard bulge, and you swallow when you feel him twitch under your palm.
The reality of your position under him hits you, and you feel as if every breath you take might make you float up to the ceiling. Your mind is racing, a cacophony of thoughts that swirl and blend into one pulsing thrum of more, more, more.
“Y-yeah.”
He grunts at your admittance and steers your fingers to the edge of his band. “There you go—tug it down, princess…”
You do as he says, and gasp when the crown of his cock comes into view.
Girthy, thick. Veiny.
A dark, almost violet-inky trail of hair leads down to the rise of his pubic bone, and you stare as the curve of his cock becomes more pronounced. Flaccid at 6 inches, he would rise to greater heights once released into the open air, and you panic, closing your fist around his still-clothed head as you beg him with your eyes to pause.
“Hold on…” you gasp. “Jus’ wait a minute.”
Caleb pauses, his eyes flashing.
“You… don’t want this?”
The implicit question hangs heavy in the air.
You don't want me?
It pains you how quick he is to incriminate himself as undesirable when it's the furthest thing from the truth.
“No!” you mumble and gently hook your fingers under his chin to get him to look at you. “I just… need a second to recalibrate cause… holy shit… you’re massive—”
He guffaws, shaking his head, boyish face lit up in joy. “S’that all? Aw, princess…” he coos and flicks your nose with his index finger. “Swear, you can be so adorable sometimes…” he teases, and you huff.
You take a deep breath and center yourself, before finding the courage to proceed with tugging down his boxers and sweatpants.
“Okay…” you murmur, and un-fist the soft material, dragging it down with bated breath.
There he is, in all his glory.
He’s warm and alive in your hands, and you give the girthy base a generous pump. His smell hits you—musk, man, briny…
Is this how a real man feels? You think your obvious lack of experience makes you faint with worry.
Would Caleb notice?
Would he hate how you don’t even know what to do with a cock?
What if he doesn’t want you to touch him—deciding you’re too inexperienced for his tastes…?
“Shit—” Caleb hisses, taken off guard by your sudden movement. “You’re killing me here, princess…”
In such simple praise, you find your footing once more against the tidal wave of insecurity.
Pushing aside your worries, you hum, taking your time to explore his body.
The divots of his abs, the crinkles of his girth as it sits so pretty on his lower body like a pair of crown jewels.
You run your thumb over the pulsing globes of his balls, feeling the soft, almost velvety skin dimpling under your touch.
Caleb grunts, and you flicker your gaze to him. His brows are furrowed, and he looks a second away from busting a vein, his face a light shade of puce.
“Caleb?” You softly call out to him in worry. “Are you—?”
“Yeah,” he gasps, and shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Jus’... didn’t expect you to feel this good…”
Good?
You feel… good?
Licking your lips, you focus your concentration on the fleshy plump head of his cock. If he has sensitive balls, Caleb is practically a timebomb of nerves on the tip of his arousal.
Flushed and sticky with pre, you swipe your thumb through the crease of his slit, gathering the milky white deposit and slowly bringing it to your mouth.
Salty. With a hint of bitterness.
Surprisingly, he tastes amazing—
Large hands yank your away from his cock.
He doesn’t give you the luxury of time to enjoy him.
Your world suddenly tilts and Caleb’s growl is loud in your ear. He has you pressed into the sheets, your face in the soft cotton, and his large palms kneading the doughy rise of your bare ass.
Smack!
You gasp and jerk back, indignation at the tip of your tongue. But, it dissipates when he drivels a finger right into your core, sinking fully into the heat of your pussy.
Your scream is muffled into the pillowy sheets, and he wastes no time in hooking his meaty digit up, hitting a spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl.
With his other hand, he continues to spank you, little pert taps that grow in intensity as his frustration builds.
“Look - at - how - wet - you’re - getting,” he snarls, and withdraws his fingers to show you the trails webbing in between them, proof of your not-so-innocent reciprocation. Caleb taps his slick fingers to your lips, and you part them obediently, half-thrills of fear and lust curling up your spine.
The taste of you perforates your tongue. Sweet and musky, you've sampled your arousal before, but never from his hand. Gagging lightly on his digits, your eyes roll back into your head and you feel his fingers tickling your uvula.
Shit, he curses under his breath. You're too cute, Pipsqueak… too precious.
He moans as you gurgle his name. Cwaleb…
Throaty and sweet, you're the perfect symphony and he could listen to you all night.
Caleb withdraws his sticky fingers from the back of your throat with a damp, little ‘pop’ as his spit-slicked digits tap your cheek.
“Fuck, you're too perfect .”
He sets you back on your back, your pouty, glossy lips twisting in a smirk. Caleb hooks your ankles around his shoulders, and—showing he's about as virginal as a town bicycle—smooths his thumb through the mess of your folds.
His pointer catches on the lip of your gaping, swollen pussy, and he hums when he smears your love juices all around, making sure to get it as messy and creamy as possible.
Inching his thumb past the loosened ring of muscle, he grins.
The gooey, silky mess coats him to the knuckle. You're already pretty free and easy for him to slip his cock in.
“Just a little more, sweetness,” he coos, twisting his thumb, slipping it out only to replace it with his index finger. His now free thumb smears the cream of your arousal around, catching on the pearly mound of your clit as he deepens the pressure.
Nghh ahhh, Caleb! You cry out.
Your cheeks are warm, eyes glossy with heat and Caleb can't get enough of the way you're panting and twisting on the sheets, writhing like a prey caught in his trap.
It's too much. Too fucking much.
Desire turns your thoughts hazy. There’s a swollen spot inside of you that he manipulates with ease, pressing down on it— “S’good girl,” he murmurs into your neck. “Taking my fingers so well. You make me so damn proud, darlin’.”
You’re panting, lapping at the sweat beading on your upper lip.
It’s too hot.
He feels like a fucking furnace above you.
Bigger than any man you ever imagined to take, Caleb is a beast trapped in the body of the boy you love. His scent drenches you—cedar wood body soap bleeding into your pores, marking you as his. The scent of his aftershave grazes your cheek as he leans in to give you a sloppy, full-tongued kiss.
Mhmmph—you mewl, clinging onto him like ivy.
Your thighs wrap around his waist instinctively, and everything is primal when you finally give yourself up to him.
His plump, weepy tip catches on your pulsing opening, and he groans at the briefest contact of slick mingling together. You’re so wet, your pussy juices web with his pre, silvery strands clinging to the lip of that little hole he wants so badly to sink into.
Like the deepest tunnel in space, Caleb wants to venture where no man will ever go. He grasps the head of his cock and guides it right to where the blackhole of all his desires resides, rimming the opening where he swears nirvana throbs out his name.
Caleb… she calls out to him. Claim me. Come in me.
He answers her signal, forehead smushed with yours, his sweat dripping into your slack mouth.
It’s a strange sensation.
Fingers. Tampons. The occasional vibrator.
None of it can compare to the sheer volume and intensity of a real cock pushing past the envelope of your flesh. The ridges and bumps feel magnified as if there’s a forcefield of pleasure accompanying such penetration. Like it’s sucking you into a different dimension.
Your head spins and your gasps sound far away, like someone has plunged you right into a swimming pool.
The only anchor you have is Caleb’s broad shoulders.
You hold onto him as he rocks his hips forward, pleasure unfurling down your spine like a current.
Fuck… Caleb…
There’s nothing else in your mind but him.
The sound of his groans. The pinched furrow of ecstasy on his brow. His swollen lips hovering over yours.
Even the dim lighting of the room makes you feel cocooned in his embrace, safe from the horrors of the world.
It’s effortless, really, how he grasps your hips and opens you up to him like you’re a centerpiece dish all bared out and vulnerable.
Nimble hands arrange you into the meanest mating press as your legs dangle above you uselessly, swaying with every hard roll of his thrusts.
Caleb fucks like he wants to put you through the mattress.
There’s nothing romantic about this—a man hellbent on making you his. His cockhead smushes with your cervix in a romantic dance of fleeting French kisses. Marking you for days. God, you whine. God, you’re—
So good.
So good.
Oh, Caleb.
More. More.
You don’t even notice the light schmear of blood coating his length. Or, how the pinch of pain is overridden by the messy plap plap plap of your bodies meeting together.
You’ve just given up your virginity to the boy you love—the man who’s been with you through hell and back.
Caleb grabs your ankles and presses it down onto the pillows above your head, plunging his cock in and out, in and out. It’s sloppy and you’re making a mess everywhere.
Foamy white creams at the base of his cock, dribbling onto the dark sheets of his duvet.
Your body rocks with him, the bed creak creak creaking under the brunt of his thrusts.
He dwarfs you, a mountain of a man bruising the same golden spot that makes your toes curl in your periphery.
“Fuck,” he drawls, purple eyes gouging on your every reaction. “You— mhm —’re squeezin’ down so good, princess.” He huffs, dew drops of sin splattering from his lips and lapped up by your tongue on his jaw. Caleb groans, his hips stuttering. “Can’t get enough of you,” he starts to babble, face flush and eyes heavy with intoxication. Your pussy is the perfect drug for him.
He starts to whine, dog tags slicked with sweat and heavy with his body heat thudding against your jaw. You part your lips and bite down on the metal, tasting salt and tang. “You—ngmmm—feel too good… so good—ah, shit, sweetness—” Caleb curses, thick fingers dimpling into the flesh of your hips and tipping you up to be fuller of him.
C-can’t hold back, darlin’, he almost whimpers. I-I can’t… you gotta come with me. Come on, sweetness, give it to me… give me your cum, baby. That’s it, baby. Ooohhh, yes. Yes. There she is. Atta girl. Goooddd girl. Stay with me, baby. Don’t—lift your hips, fuck. Lemme rub that pretty pearl, darlin’. You look so good cummin’ all over me—
Your screams pierce the night air, echoing with a clap of thunder outside the windows. But, you can’t pay attention to storms, not when the biggest one is wrecking you apart.
Caleb moves like a man possessed, greasin’ his thumb around your pebbled clit, changing the angle so he’s pushing even deeper—
“Caleb!”
Your back arches off the bed, till only the crown of your head remains on the pillows. Caleb pushes back, drowning you back into the sheets, his whole body pressing down— “Shit, nghmmm! —” he grounds out in a low voice.
Almost a growl.
It makes your insides shiver around his cock. He doesn’t jackhammer you like those oiled-up studs do in pornos.
He takes it intensely, grinding his hips, injecting his rhythm with a few punctuating thrusts.
“Good —” you choke out. “—fuck me so good— ”
Yeah? He teases, dark bangs falling in his face, covering one of his magnetic violet irises.
Your body tenses, abs clenching, and he groans.
Tipping you further down the precipice, Caleb ducks his head and engorges his wet, hot mouth around your swollen nipples. He pinches the other one with his free hand, the spare still frigging your clit with the intensity of a madman.
Your eyes roll back into your head.
You clench—hard.
White hot paint splatters behind your closed eyes, imprinting on your lids and the world fades into hypersound as you scream:
Caaaleeeebbbb!
Oh, shit.
Your walls massage him better than any fleshlight could. Definitely a thousand times better than his hand.
He’s a goner right there and then.
Thick, fat spurts of hot, sticky cum fill you up. Neither he nor you care about what this means, pumping you to the brim until wet, gummy dribbles splotch down onto the bed. Caleb shudders like a great beast, and with one last, heaving push, he breeds you.
.
.
.
There’s nothing else in the ringing quiet but your ragged breath.
The world slowly comes back—a flickering flash of thunder. Caleb’s soft groan.
He pulls himself out, and the effect is a reverse weirdness of when he fucked himself in.
It leaves you gaping. Empty. You whine and he chuckles tiredly, gathering you into his arms.
All's silent for a few moments until you hear the bed creak and his weight off the mattress. Your blurry eyes open to find his massive, muscular frame in all its naked glory ambling to the bathroom. In a few moments, a warm softness glides between your puffy, well-abused folds, and you moan, twitching away.
“I know, I know,” he soothes. “But, I gotta get you cleaned up. Stay still, sweets.”
He wipes you down until you’re clean again, and tosses the soiled rag to the floor. Your arms open on autopilot for him, and Caleb chuckles, sinking back into the ring of warmth your body gives him.
Sighing into your hair, he tightens his grip around you. Outside, the eddies of raindrops swirl down the window panes, and another flash of thunderclaps. He slowly presses a kiss to your head, holding you tighter as a new storm rages unceasingly.
Caleb yanks the blankets up to your waist, and uses himself as a weighted one, pressing you into the soft mattress, much to your bubbling giggles. He smiles, loving the sound, and gently flicks your chin with his index finger.
“I didn’t hurt you, didn’t I?”
He moves to your side and you turn around, propping your head under your arm to gaze at him, a lovesick expression etched on your face.
Caleb mirrors your movement, also sliding his arm under his head, his other slung casually on your hip.
“Nah,” you admit after a beat of silence. “Didn’t even feel it.”
He pretends to pout. “Y’know, if you say that in a different context, I would get really, really hurt, Pipsqueak.”
You groan, and smack his chest. “Just like you to ruin the mood.”
He catches your hand, pressing your palm to his cheek with a boyish laugh.
“I’m kiddin'! Kidding, darlin’. C’mere—”
Yoinking you closer, he smears a kiss onto the nape of your neck.
As you trace his arm, he hums.
“You… really blew my mind,” he admits sheepishly.
“Huh. I did?” It’s your turn to tease him now. “Well… I guess so did you.”
You yelp when he pinches your ass playfully.
“‘Oh, Calebbbb ’.” He mocks your earlier moans. “‘Ahhhh moreee moreee— ’”
“Hey—!”
He lets you smack his chest, snickering in glee like a stupid boy.
“Juussstt kiddin’, sweets.” He kisses you right on your pouty lips. “Knew you’d be perfect. You’re always perfect.”
And, your heart melts.
“Really?” You whisper as a subtle flash of lightning illuminates one side of his grin. Warmth fills you up when he nods.
“Is it sad to say I’ve been dreamin’ about you like this for eons?”
You shake your head, a smile playing on the corners of your lips. Slightly breathless, you respond:
“I’ve been… thinking about you that way, too, baby.”
You expect him to make a stupid joke, or to diffuse the tender moment with his snark.
But, Caleb doesn’t do that. He loves being in this delicate bubble with you—and only you.
“Good,” he hums. “Because I’m not done with you yet, sweets—not by a lonnggg shot.”
a/n: comments and reblogs are very much appreciated ! thank you for reading ;D
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♡ tags ; psuedocest / adoptive incest, afab + fem!reader, minor age-gap (3 years), mentions / non graphic depictions of child abuse (from readers days in the orphanage), childhood crushing, mutual pining, developing relationship, size difference, some religious imagery, loss of virginity, petnames (baby, princess, pipsquak), use of meimei once and gege a few times but very sparing, oral (f!recieving), nipple play, marking, light masochism from reader, mouth-spitting, fingering, bare-backing, 18+
♡ wc ; 23.3k (kill me)
♡ a/n ; hey. this is an incest fic for adoptive siblings. if that makes you uncomfortable, don't read it. block me if you need to. please spare me lecture.
also - i have reader be carried by caleb a couple of times but dude has a bionic arm so he's strong as shit to me. the size difference tag is mostly about his dick. aside from the carrying there is no phyiscal indicators for reader
important to the fic but i play in simplified cn. please go listen to the simplified cn voice actor before you read this. for my sanity. most of my characterization is based on various cn translations from the kind cn fanbase. special thank you to mao @/yinyuedijun and this yt channel.
♡ synopsis ; for as long as you can remember, the sight of caleb's back is whats made you feel safest. it's no surprise that every man that comes after him never quite measures up.
PART ONE: ANYTHING YOU SAY CAN AND WILL BE HELD AGAINST YOU.
At seven, you knock out one of your teeth roughhousing with one of the orphanage boys.
The good news? You’re winning. You’re at the age where size matters more than gender but the boy you’re fighting is both bigger and older than you.
Even so, you manage to pull off shoving him back.
You don’t know his name, only his face— buzzed head and red gums, the pristine picture of anger. You roll around with him in the small stretch of yard behind the orphanage - white tanktop stained with grass, all knobby knees and short limbs as you fight and fight and fight with every ounce of your strength.
You are seven with something to prove and a lot already lost. Your pride refuses to let you lose further. You recieve a hit of adrenaline when you launch the top of your head into the older boys chin and hear his teeth clack from how hard it lands. He collapses in a pile, spits curses he learned from the grown-ups that come in and out as he lays there.
He nearly jumps you when you’re both down. Your head is throbbing where his chin connected and you can tell if he decides to fight you again, your chances of winning have slimmed significantly.
You see it in his eyes. In his face. He’s so angry. Always is. You knew it was a bad idea to provoke him to begin with.
He nearly, nearly jumps you and almost knocks you out completely.
So you decide it might be better to prepare for it. You fold up. Put your arms up high and brace for impact when a shadow - long, endless, casts over your head. Eyes half open, a familiar pair of beat-up sneakers stand in front of you in the grass. You hear a familiar voice. It’s colder than you’re used to.
“Bullying a little kid is lame,” Caleb says, sharp. It makes you shrink further even though it’s not directed at you. “Quit fighting or I’ll get one of the grown-ups.”
You can’t see what's in front of you. You only hear a shock of gasps around you—another confrontation that quickly settles into silence before Caleb turns around.
His face is soft as he bends down to be eye level. Kind, boyish, gentle - he opens up his arms. He’s not happy about something. You can tell because his smile is a little dimmer than normal. You desperately hope it isn’t because of you.
Even knowing Caleb is going to scold you a bit, you find yourself welling up in tears from relief even over fear. You wail as you wrap your arms around his neck and Caleb hoists you up and carries you on his hip like you’re still a baby.
He’s silent as he carries you into the house.
“You shouldn’t get into fights,” He says, soothing. You sniffle as he walks you inside. His shirt smells like summer, hands fisted in it. Holding on for dear life. Call for me next time.”
Caleb sits you on the mattress, in the room all the older kids share. Your feet don’t touch the ground as he kneels in front of you and rifles around under his bed. He has bandages and alcohol, cotton swabs and gauze.
His eyes are kind as he assesses your wounds. Pours alcohol onto a cotton pad and frowns each time you sniffle and sob from the pain of getting them cleaned. “A crybaby like you shouldn’t fight anyone, seriously.”
“Shut up,” You say first. You hang your head low, instant regret. Your hands close again, blunt nails digging into your palms. Your lower lip trembles. Caleb quickly puts a hand on the top of your head when he notices your distress. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just depend on me, alright?” He grins with the same front tooth missing. Like a mirror image of you, you think. “I’ll always help you.”
__
At ten, you give up celebrating your birthday.
You’re the age Caleb was when you met and now you’ve both left the orphanage and lived away from it for a few years. You’ve spent nearly three years with a woman you call Grandma and the world feels a lot kinder with her in your life. She takes good care of you. Gives you a warm bed to sleep in, and good food to eat. Doesn’t get angry when you break cups or get up in the middle of the night to go pee.
You live in a house with only three people and you even get to have your own room—one you don’t have to share, not even with Caleb. It’s nice to sleep where there’s no one else, even if most nights you crawl into Caleb’s bed anyway and sleep next to him because it's more comfortable.
Grandma is nice to you. Sometimes, she looks like she’s somewhere far away but it never lasts for long. You’re thankful to her for taking you in.
You have a warm bed to sleep in, good food to eat, and Caleb is right next to you. He’s your brother now, so you can be together forever. And none of the adults from the orphanage are here to punish him anymore when he tries to protect you.
You’re ten and the world seems to be trying its best not to hurt you any further. Somehow, this only makes you feel more uneasy.
You’re happy. It scares you. You often wonder when someone will punish you for it. If someone will be blamed for allowing it. It makes you feel helpless when you think about it too long.
But you have Caleb. He makes it easier. You can cling onto his shirt when it gets too hard. And he’s older now, enough to really feel grown up.
A night, when you clutch the fabric until it stretches wide, trembling after you’re plagued by bad dreams - having nightmares of rusted rain, Caleb is there.
No matter how deeply asleep, he always wakes up to hold you.
( You wait for him to tell you that you’re too big to be getting scared over nightmares, but the day still hasn’t come. You hope it never does. You think you’d be so sad you would never stop crying. )
You’re ten, and the world seems kinder - but you know better by now. You try to take precautionary measures against letting it take everything from you again.
And you start small. With yourself, and your birthday.
You’ve only ever celebrated a few birthdays. In the orphanage they’d celebrate a lot at once, so it never felt very special. You can’t really remember the ones you had before then, don’t remember much from then at all. Since you’ve been adopted, Grandma has celebrated your birthday and made it special. She and Caleb cook your favorite meal together and you sit around and cut-cake afterwards.
They even decorate the house with balloons and streamers.
Your birthdays now don’t compare to the ones you had then.
Nothing bad is happening but still. You like celebrating your birthday. But, can you feel okay about getting to celebrate a birthday at all? When you thought for sure your life might end before then?
Before your eleventh birthday, you announce to your family that you don’t want to do anything special this year. When they probe you with questions about why not, you refuse to give up any answers.
Caleb is thirteen and heartbroken when he hears you say this. Asks questions even as you turn your nose up and refuse to answer. You get into a fight about it, one of the very first of your entire relationship.
It’s that same night you begin to sleep in your own room.
In the weeks leading up to your birthday, you find your house to be more quiet than usual. Caleb is busy with something but you blame yourself for the distance between you. He always comes back seeming tired. Even though he still pats your head and smiles at you the same way, you notice when he seems a little less there at the dinner time.
When your birthday finally comes, your grandma still decides to celebrate it in a small way. She makes your favorite food and gets you a cake and candles. Hugs you when you cry about it, too. The only thing they skip is the decoration.
(You’re brave though, when next year rolls around and tell them you miss it. It makes Caleb happy enough to hug you tight.)
The warmth that fills your heart seeing your name in iced letters is too big for your body. You wonder if this is what having a family was like.
At night time, after dinner and before you cut the cake - you open your presents. There’s two for your eleventh birthday. One from grandma and one from Caleb. Usually, they sign their gift to you together but this year they’re separate.
At first, your heart sinks, but you try not to think about it. Grandma gets you a bike that matches Caleb’s so the two of you can ride together. You’re happy to have it but Caleb insists you can just keep riding on the back of his if you don’t want to learn.
You open Caleb’s gift second. It’s wrapped in pretty paper with a bow on it so you undo it carefully. Inside of it is a plain looking box.
“Open it,”
There’s a pair of earrings and a necklace when you do. It’s not cheap plastic like all the other jewelry you’ve ever had in your life. Little apples covered in gemstones, and a little gold necklace with a pendant and a locket. Your eyes go wide, fingers trembling a little as you touch it.
You look for Caleb’s face unthinkingly. Kind and warm, eyes crinkled and shoulders slack in relief when he sees your happy reaction. His hand is warm as it rests on your head, rubbing gently.
“It took a while but I’ve been helping our neighbors for money so I could buy it for you,” Caleb says, looking down at you with an easy grin. “The day you were born is important for me, so don’t say that you won’t celebrate it from now on. Okay?”
When tears well up in your eyes, you barely have to say a word before Caleb brings you into his waist. You cry to him the same way you always do - with a hand fisted in the back of his shirt like you’re terrified of where you’d end up if you let go.
Even when you ruin his shirt with salty tears, Caleb never voices a word of complaint. His steady heartbeat and warm hands that make you feel like he’s already done it all before, stay exactly where you expect them.
Your dependable, kind older brother.
__
At thirteen, you take your first field trip overnight.
It takes a tremendous amount of effort to make it happen.
Grandma was easy to convince, but it took you fourteen whole days to convince your brother that you could handle going on a school field trip without having your hand held the entire time.
(You can still hear the amused, taunting lilt in his voice from when you first mentioned it. Sure you’ll be okay pipsqueak? My bed won’t be there for you to take over if you get scared, you know?)
Ugh. He can be so strict. An you swear he was even more stubborn about it than usual.
You had to use every tactic in the book to get him to say yes. Kissing up to him, acting extra wistful, doing your chores and being super well-behaved. After strategically buttering him up for two weeks prior to you just asking, you also made sure to ask when he had one of his friends over. He’s strict regardless of who's around, but having another person in your corner is good for morale.
(This method is effective for the record. Just as Caleb goes to turn you down, his friend throws an eraser at him and clicks his teeth.
“There’s a limit to your siscon behavior. Just let her go.”
You sneak said friend a candy the next time he comes over as thanks.)
After a lot of persistent begging, Caleb relents and allows Grandma to sign your permission slip. It’s an overnight trip sure—but it’s heavily supervised and rooms are separated by gender anyhow. You really don’t know what he was so worried about.
So far, the trip has been really fun. You went to a butterfly garden conservatory as a part of your science project and one landed on your nose. Your friend even managed to get a good picture. In the afternoon, you did a bit of sightseeing and got to buy some street food.
When evening rolled around, you and all your friends holed up in the same hotel room sleeping together on one big floor. You stayed up a few hours later than you should’ve—gossiping and discussing the newest chapter of a very popular romance webnovel. Most of them are out by the time the clock hits midnight.
And now, you’re the last one awake at 1am.
Unfortunately, no matter how long you try to sleep—it is hard to sleep away from home, knowing Caleb isn’t right down the hall. No matter how much the thought makes you frown.
You’ve outgrown the habit of crawling into his bed every night. Still, you think you rest easier knowing that he’s there. You’d never admit it but subconsciously, it comforts you just knowing he is. The few times you get nightmares of the Chronorift these days, your nightmares are especially persistent. You don’t crawl into his bed like you did when you were a little kid as often as you used to. Even when you want it, it’s just a little embarrassing.
Regardless though, he’ll stay up with you until it passes, and until you go back to to sleep. It’s the only thing that helps it go down easier some nights. That he’d be there no matter what happened.
By the time the clock strikes one-thirty, you get the feeling you just won’t be able to sleep unless you at least call him.
So, after carefully sneaking your phone out of your bag - you leave your hotel room to wander the halls and end up in the lobby in your PJs.
You realize your incidental act of rebellion when you catch some stares from late-night guests. You hesitate on whether or not you should go back before deciding that’d be pointless. Fingers hovering over the call button, it takes a beat before you hit and hear the number dial. He’ll probably scold you but you know he’ll answer.
He picks up in one ring. His voice is thick with sleep when he speaks. “It’s late. You should be asleep.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry, Gege,” You say, crossing slippered feet against the tile of the hotel lobby floor. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
His voice softens instantly. “Somethin’ happen?”
You shake your head before realizing he can’t see you. “No, I just couldn’t sleep.” A beat. “I thought I would sleep better if…I talked to…someone.”
It’s too embarrassing to tell him you wanted to talk to him, specifically. Caleb is quiet on the other side of the line before he laughs, just a little. “You were so adamant on wanting to go with your friends, huh? I thought you’d be just fine. Were you being brave for show?.”
You frown a little, groaning. “I did have fun. A lot of fun. We talked a lot before bed too, and now everyone else is asleep. It’s not like I regret going. And I wasn’t being brave, I was just—”
“Sure, sure. Still can’t sleep unless you know I’m there, huh?”
Silence stretches over the line. You feel your face grow hot with embarrassment as you stretch your legs out, chin tucked against your chest.
“Maybe I should just hang up on you,”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Caleb says more gently. “You can call me as much as you want.”
“You’re being nice like when we were kids.” You observe.
Caleb scoffs a little. “I’m always nice.”
You roll your eyes and Caleb laughs like he knows you did it. It’s quiet again before he speaks. In the voice that makes him feel older than he is. “I’m worried about you so I’m being even nicer than usual. Is that okay?”
His tone is light, teasing, but there’s more to it than he lets on. You trace a pattern into the worn, fabric arm of the chair you sit in. “Why?”
“I get worried when you go somewhere I can’t see you.” He says agreeably.
Your face tugs into a frown, strangely mortified by the sincerity of it. “It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I’ll be fourteen in a few months.”
Caleb laughs. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ll always be a kid.”
You huff. “That’s not fair. Does that mean I’ll have to beg you like this to do anything for the rest of my life? You’re too much.”
“At least until you turn eighteen.” Caleb replies, voice airy and content. “And if you’re still a little weakling then, probably a few more years after that too.”
You groan. “How terrible. What kind of brother are you? So cruel.” You pause “You’re more like my dad sometimes.”
“Since you’re my responsibility, I usually have to act as all three.” Caleb says with ease. “You should get used to it.”
Despite your grievances, your body relaxes exactly the way you expect as you listen to him talk. You yawn out loud, sleep making your eyes and limbs heavy.
“Finally tired?” He asks, voice softened. Doting. It’s so instant, you don’t have the will to fight it. “Go sleep. Make sure you eat tomorrow morning and don’t just wait until noon.”
“Okay, Gege.” You yawn again. “Goodnight. Love you,”
A long silence stretches between you. You wonder why he hesitates. “Love you too. Now go to bed. And don’t sneak out without telling your teachers again,”
“Wait, how did you—”
“I know everything.” He says dismissively. “Goodnight, okay?”
You pull back and stare at your phone. He’s a little scary sometimes.
“Yeah. Okay. Night,”
__
At sixteen, you go experience the first real heartbreak of your life.
It’s less over the actual relationship and more about the events leading to your break-up.
Your secret boyfriend of five months kissed one of your closest friends. And you caught them both red-handed.
It was in the gymnasium after school a few weeks ago. You nearly fist fought them both before getting overwhelmed and simply running away in tears to a nearby playground. Your two other best friends had to pry you out of a bed of mulch and take you home after wiping your tears.
You have a list of grievances about the situation. You like (?) the guy but you loved your friend - but now you have neither. And all of it happened for a reason you cannot wrap your mind around at all.
You’re thankful for your other friends who have taken your side in the matter while still trying to get to the bottom of it. And it’s good having them, but in your time of teenage angst - the one person you’d like to tell absolutely can’t know.
Not telling your older brother is hard. Keeping the secret makes you feel guilty enough, but it’s made harder when he’s home. And he will be for the next two weeks until he has to go back to the dorms. They’re on some kind of spring break.
Until then, you make it your mission to keep up appearances. Since the one person you don’t want to find out about your relationship is the person who’d find out the fastest.
Caleb is strict. Has been for as long as you can remember. Though you’ve never explicitly spoken on dating - he has, more than once, “subtly” warned you about having an interest in the opposite sex. You remember how you made stupid heart-eyes to one of his school friends years back and he still brings it up whenever you ask about him and how he’s doing. As if even wanting to know is some kind of betrayal.
(And well, maybe you do ask just to see him react like that. It’s…funny. It’s not like Caleb needs to know that.)
You don’t like keeping secrets from your brother. You’re close. Way closer than most people ever are with their siblings.
Maybe because Caleb has always taken care of you—he feels less like a sibling you can pointlessly squabble with and more like your guardian at times.
It’s hard for you to lie to him explicitly so the fact you’ve kept the relationship under wraps for five months is kind of impressive.
You always told yourself, you’d tell Caleb if it ever got serious. Truthfully though, you didn’t think it was going to last. Didn’t even want to accept until your friends pressured you.
Your now ex-boyfriend is the one who asked you out, which is what pisses you off the most. He’s one of the popular guys in your grade and he’s…nice. Was nice. You don’t think you’d be sad if he simply broke up with you and went out with your friend. You’d think less of him maybe, but it’s not like you’re in love with him.
It’s all the other stuff that’s weighing you down. It’s getting into a fight with your friend. It’s getting two-timed by the jackass who asked you out first. One you didn’t even like that much.
(Maybe not at all.)
It’s wanting to whine and complain about all of this to your older brother who would take your side but not being able to - because you can’t tell him half truths. You don’t have it in you. You barely have it in you to lie to him.
(Truthfully, you think the only reason you’ve been able to all this time is because you’ve kept said boyfriend at arms length somewhat knowingly. You haven’t had a proper kiss.)
Telling Caleb everything is a long time compulsion you don’t know if you’ll ever unlearn.You don’t know if it’s loyalty or gratitude—only that it makes you feel like a dog whose been leashed to a post for most of your life before it gets unchained.
Even when you’re no longer shackled to it, you find you can’t go anywhere. Being without it doesn’t free you, not really. You find it goes against what you know to try to escape without hearing the click of metal.
You stay by the post. You tell Caleb everything. It feels outright wrong to lie about something important.
(And it’s still hard lying about something unimportant.)
You’re sure it speaks to the depth of your attachment but you always end up spilling your guts to him. Like a child always wanting to please their parents and behave. You know Caleb will accept you, even if he gets angry. But you don’t actually know how he’ll react and that scares you into not wanting to tell him at all.
The thought of disappointing him is what makes you most uneasy.
So, you decide that you’ll take it to the grave. It’s your one half-ass rebellion and these are the natural consequences. As long as you process your friendship grief and wear out your anger - it’ll be smoothed over before you know.
Meticulously, you time your sessions of grieving and angry debriefing phone calls in the hours Caleb is out of the house. You work hard at keeping up as if nothing is happening in your life at all. You feel an unshakeable feeling of guilt the entire time, one that has you waking up in cold sweat but you ignore it because… well, you don’t really know how to fix it.
(Truthfully - you’re irrationally worried that he’d leave over something so trivial, and you’d be seven and all alone in the world again. As nonsensical as it is, and as much as you want to pretend otherwise, your attachment to Caleb really matters that much to you.)
You very nearly make it to the finish line of this plan too. Almost. .
In the middle of your crying session - you answer a knock on the door and assume it’s Granny (who does, at least partially, know what’s going on). You open it without thinking.
It’s the last person you want to see in the moment.
You quickly try to shut the door but Caleb is quicker. Slides his unnecessarily huge body through the small gap and shuts it behind him - trapping you both. You stumble back a little, but he catches you by the wrist to make sure you don’t actually fall.
You feel like a deer in headlights. Red, water rimmed eyes, runny nose, and face puffy - you try to pull your sleeves over your hands and wipe your face. Even though he’s already seen it. You’re too old to be crying like this in front of him. It’s humiliating.
Caleb grabs your wrists easily before you can wipe them away. You blink away a few unshed tears to get a better look at his face. You inhale, your chest tight - feet like lead as you look at your older brother. His pinched expression, almost pained but still tender. Still gentle. Just seeing it again makes you want to cry.
“I knew it,” He says. He drops your hands and instead cups your face with his palm, thumb wiping away tears as he cups your cheek. His expression is firm. “What’s wrong, hm?”
It’s like something in you collapses.
You give into it without any effort.
Caleb makes it so easy, after all, to be the weakest version of yourself.
With him, there’s no desire to fight what feels inevitable. So you let yourself fall to nothing in Caleb’s arms and cry. You’re torn up over your first real friendship fight so you let yourself lean on him. Just like you do at seven, and ten, and all the years before. Fist your hand tight in the fabric of his shirt like you’re worried he’ll shake you off, even though he never does.)
(Later, you’ll remember this conversation and realize that there was never any room for anyone else. It was a kind of teenage naivety to think otherwise.
You’ll hear the sentiment from everyone you know—friends, colleagues, family: the person you can be weakest with is who you should marry. If only you had known that then, too. Maybe accepting it would’ve been easier. Maybe you would’ve known sooner what feeling you’d spend the rest of your adult life chasing)
Caleb rests his hand on the back of your head as he tucks your face against his chest. It’s warm and soft. The comforting scent of detergent and cologne, undercut by oil and jetfuel. You wish you could bury yourself in.
You stand and cry like that in silence for a long while. Caleb holds you tight without asking any questions, his chin resting on top of your head, patting your back.
When you pull away from him, ready to explain - he walks himself over to your bed and sits on it. His expression is unreadable. Concerned but trying not to worry too son.
With his legs wide, he opens his arms out to you to invite you into his lap the way you did when you were kids. You wonder if he’s joking—trying to make you laugh and cheer you up.
But in the moment you’re so fragile, you tuck your chin and sit anyway. He stiffens briefly, as if surprised but soon enough, strong arms lay drape your waist as he lets you lean into him.
“Ready to talk about it?”
You fidget. “Aren’t you busy?”
He shakes his. “I’m all yours.”
Your chest feels warm and fluttery when he says it. It soothes you. .
You sniffle, adjusting in his lap. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asks. “You don’t have to,”
“No, I—” You shift in his lap. “It feels wrong. Not telling you.”
Caleb hums. “You’re at that age. I already know that much. But no matter what I’m on your side, so don’t hide when you’re feeling sad or upset. Okay?”
“Nn,” You nod. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
“It’s really fine. It’s not like I can really be mad at you, right?”
You make a small, thoughtful noise. “You say that but you’re unexpectedly good at holding grudges.”
Caleb laughs. “Hm, that’s true. But not with you.”
You repeat the words to yourself, half-dizzy with a smile. “Not with me.”
Caleb smiles at you. He holds you a little tighter. You grab hold of his jacket, white knuckling the fabric until your heartbeat settles.
“So. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
__
( In the end, you tell Caleb everything from start to finish.
It’s just as you predicted. Once you start, it’s hard to give him anything but the full truth. Caleb listens to you intently without interjecting. Rests his chin on your shoulders, leaving you with nothing but his body language to pick up on his moods.
He stiffens when you tell him you had a boyfriend. Calms down when you tell him you didn’t like him very much, that all you did was hold hands and cuddle and you still think it was a waste.
Caleb listens to it all. Hangs onto your every word until you’ve tuckered yourself out. You think of what they say about how a burden shared is a burden halved and hope that it’s fine to depend on him this much all these years later.
Caleb is silent and steady for the duration of your talk. Towards the end he tells you: “No boy should ever make you cry. Should I get revenge for you?”
“Gege,” You say exasperated “And what about boys making me cry? That’s all they do from what I can tell.”
He doesn’t refute that. “ That’s true. It’s better to avoid them, really. If I ever make you cry you though, you can hit me,” He replies. You laugh a little.
“I don’t think you would make me cry without good reason.”
“If I do, I’ll make sure to repent for my whole life after.” He says, joking. Maybe joking.
Your cheeks warm “Your whole life feels like a long time.”
“Is it? You can’t really get rid of me easily, so I think it makes sense.”
“I guess that’s true. You can’t get rid of me either, you know.”
Caleb grins at you. “How lucky.”)
__
At nineteen, you go to a club in the Linkon entertainment district for the very first time.
Your friends dragged you here. It’s your first year of the Hunter Academy and your first time living away from home. You’ve spent most of the school year completely focused on training and working towards your goals - trying to be strong enough to work alongside a certain someone and hold your own.
You’re not here of your own volition, but honestly? It’s not so bad. Drinking and dancing with your friends proves fun for the first couple of hours at least.
After that gets old though, really more stressful than anything.
You aren’t supposed to be here in the first place. That’s the main cause of your current unease. The club is 21+ and it was already an ordeal getting in. The longer you stay, the more restless you feel—the more you want to leave before anyone gets caught up in anything.
You’ve been knocking back drinks all evening, courtesy of some of your friends - and the night is starting to come to a halt for you internally. All the discomfort and overstimulation go from engaging to overwhelming, and your head is starting to spin.
You’re in the section where you and your friends got invited. Apparently there’s someone tonight who's popular in the nightlife scene - son of some rich business man you think. Your friend has been doing you all the solid of keeping him happy. Your eyes flit over to where they dance on the floor and you feel yourself wince just looking at them.
Shit, your head is throbbing.
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sink back in your seat and think about what the best strategy is to get out of here.
All of you should go home honestly. There won’t be major consequences for simply being intoxicated, but sneaking into an establishment like this really might affect your ability to graduate. Your academy is not known for its leniency.
Aside from that, you’re tired. You should have more energy than this. You would normally, you think. But it’s a Friday and you had taken up some extra training since you had no plans to be out. The addition of alcohol dehydrating you and the sharp and particular pain from stiletto heels makes you lethargic. Dead on your feet.
It’s later in the night but not so late people are leaving. A second wave of attendees are shuffling in now. You have half a mind to mix with the crowd and leave by yourself. It feels like a good idea at least.
But then, more people are brought to your section. You’re only half-paying attention as the guy from earlier, the one paying for you all, happily introduces the new group to people already sitting.
“...And Caleb, it’s good to see you. You’re usually too busy to come to things like this,”
A pair of eyes bore into you. You freeze completely, eyes glued to your phone screen as you catch a glimpse of the one person you absolutely do not want to be meeting here.
“Yeah,” A familiar voice says. His voice is light like he’s not noticed anything.”I’m glad I came. I’ve already seen some interesting things.”
The dull throb in your head turns the corner to a sharp pain. A feeling of complete misery washes over you. Truly, the worst possible outcome. You wonder what Caleb is doing here in the first place. From what you know, this isn’t usually his kind of establishment either. Maybe someone from his dorms dragged him here too? You think it’d be something like that.
You make the mistake of looking up as Caleb slides in opposite to you with a few other friends. His expression is completely unreadable as your eyes meet across the table. He flashes you a smile that makes your nerves stand on end. All you can do is look away, eyes flitting back down your phone.
A text appears at the top of your screen.
from cpt big bro (1:03am): nice to see you.
A feeling of unease immediately feels you, but when you look back up at Caleb - he’s pretending like you don’t even exist.
You don’t know why you feel so guilty in the first place. Sure, you snuck in here but it’s not like you did something unheard of. And you’re past the legal drinking age in the first place. And the clothes weren’t your idea. You’ll tell him that when he inevitably asks.
You’re not doing anything so wrong but you’re worried he’ll get the wrong idea.
(A voice in your head asks: what idea? You tell yourself it’d be embarrassing if your brother thought you were looking for a hook-up. It’s reasonable enough.
You decide not to interrogate the reasoning any further, even when the feeling doesn’t go away.)
You find your gaze falling in your lap as you try to dissolve the overwhelming feeling of shame and upset just knowing Caleb’s seen you like this.
It’s worse though to have him ignoring you. You know he’s probably doing it for your sake. Even knowing he’s not malicious doesn’t make it much better. Your eyes stay glued to your phone screen.
You don’t know how much time passes before someone else joins you at the table.
A woman this time.
“Caleb! You actually came,” She says over the music. You watch her from your peripherals as she slides in next to him without hesitation. “I thought Kenji was lying to get more girls to show up.”
You hear him laugh a little. You think he sounds a little uncomfortable, but maybe you’re reading too much into it. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“Isn’t that always how that goes?” She hums. Your eyes widen slightly seeing the way she presses herself up against his arm. “But I’m glad you're here. Maybe I can convince you to dance.”
“You can try,” He says. You know he’s just being amiable. Or at least, you think he’s just trying to be amiable.
You’ve never really seen Caleb flirt with a girl, so you don’t have a real reference for what does and does not count.
It’s the first time in all of your life you’ve ever seen Caleb get hit on so closely. You’re used to his popularity of course - but back then, Caleb usually made a point to run away. No one ever got near enough. He’s always been nice about it of course, tries to let people down easy.
You don’t know the girl who's flirting with him now, but you can tell that they know each other. They’re sitting close, but not enough to be obvious. You can hear them too, though. Hear how she talks to him. It’s not hard to tell that she’s hitting on him. And your brother isn’t reciprocating but he’s not quite turning her down. It doesn’t seem to bother him, enough that when he makes jokes playfully rejecting her - the conversation still doesn’t sour.
They get along, is what you mean. Better than you thought they would.
Your stomach churns.
You try not to think about whats making you sick. But it washes over you all at once. More dizzy than nauseous. You feel like someone is tying your insides into a coil. The more you try to divert your gaze - the harder it is to ignore it. Caleb glances at you from time to time, but it seems accidental at best.
Your heart is hammering. You think about how long it’s been since you’ve last seen each other. All the things that have happened while you’re apart.
When you find you can’t sit and handle anymore, your body makes the decision to leave for you.
It happens quickly. You stand to your feet, nearly stumbling in your heels as you talk to a friend on the dance floor and make-up a nonsense excuse about needing to leave. She offers to call you a taxi, but by then you’re already making a bee-line to the door and out of the club.
It’s late when you leave. Your whole body feels like it’s trapped in ice as the unforgiving night air whips your skin and leaves you cold. You stumble down the steps in your heels until you finally make it onto the curb with all the other drunk club-goers trying to get home or sober up.
You’ll flag down a taxi, go home, and pretend nothing happened. You repeat the routine to yourself over and over.
It feels like the only way you can handle it. Your mind can't process it otherwise. Can’t think too hard on what you might’ve been privy too.
“Where are you runnin’ off to?”
You freeze when you hear Caleb’s voice. You have half a mind to break into a sprint but you aren’t sure you can without breaking your ankles with your heels. Another part of you is preening over the fact he came immediately to find you. You turn around and try to walk away briskly - only to feel a warm hand on your wrist, pulling you towards him and making you come to a halt.
“Let me go,” You mumble.
He holds you a little tighter.
“Don’t be like that. No matter how much training you have, I know you can’t run in heels so quit it,” Caleb says, with a sigh. “Why’d you run off?”
“What do you mean why?” You say, words slurring. “Who’d wanna see—hicc—”
Caleb frowns at you. “Why’re you trying to be tough if you can barely keep yourself standing up straight?”
He sighs, bending down. You let out a noise as he undoes the strap of your heel.
“Take them off,”
You pout. “How am I supposed to walk home like that?”
“I’ll carry you on my back,” He replies. “Your ankles with have a hard time if you keep wobbling like that,”
“My feet will get dirty from the pavement.”
You’re being difficult on purpose. Drunk and upset, arguing with anything he says. Caleb knows this you’re sure but he doesn’t seem to have a reaction to it besides mild exasperation. Despite that though, he still tends to you.
He makes a face at you before sighing. You watch as he slides his jacket off of his shoulders and drapes it over you. It’s oversized on him, even more so on you. It fits more like a dress and covers more than your outfit does.
When you’ve slipped your arms through it, he drops down onto his knees and undoes the other strap of your heel. He turns around after that, signalling for you to get on his back. You want to refuse him but you find you don’t have the words to do so. You comply with his request, putting your arms around his neck as he lifts you with frightening ease.
He bends down with you on his back to pick your heels up and carry them.
“Aren’t you gonna ask me anything?” You mumble. Caleb sighs. It makes you bite your lip.
“It can wait a bit.”
“Hmph.”
You find you have nothing left to argue with him. You give up on trying to refuse and let him carry you, both hands lifting you up as you keep your arms around his neck. Your cheek pressed against his shoulder, worried your makeup will smear on it.
You don’t know how long you walk. Your eyes are closed for the duration of it and you only open them again when you sense a change of lighting. The noise of an automatic door and a tired greeting alarms you. You feel embarrassed, suddenly, at the idea that someone else has seen you like this.
Caleb just greets them as normal.
“Aren’t you gonna let me down already?”
“Are you feeling uncomfortable?”
“No, but—”
He doesn’t respond to you further. You get the impression there’s not much meaning to continue arguing so you keep quiet.
You watch from over his shoulder as he roams the aisles until he comes across cheap pairs of slippers and socks - next to other random household items. He picks the correct size without asking you. Seeing it only adds to the strange feeling you’ve had since leaving the club.
He goes to self check-out, pays for the sandals, then carries you to one of the few seats and table near the window of the 7/11. Carefully, he sets you down on one, your heels on another, then silently opens the packaging. He drops to his knees and looks up at you in silent question.
“You don’t need to—”
He doesn’t say anything when you attempt to refuse him. Keeps quiet and just waits for you, not unkindly. You frown and hold your foot out to him. He rolls each sock carefully onto your feet, pulling them all the way up over your ankle before the slippers follow.
“Do they fit okay?”
“Mm,”
You nod. Caleb hums. Holds his hand out.
“C’mon. Pick out something to eat or drink so you sober up a bit,”
“While we talk?” You ask, voice suddenly small. He pauses, smiles just barely, and pats your head with the same firm hand he always does. It makes you want to cry.
“Yeah. While we talk.”
You nod as Caleb helps you off the seat. “I’ll go get some water.”
“Okay,”
You think of what you want to eat. Childhood memories whisper answers to you. Chips and candy - sweet and salty so you have balance. You remember the way Caleb would cut into his own snack budget for you to get what you wanted. He’d pretend to complain, but he’d smile at you while you ate.
You pick the same things you used to. You wonder if he’ll notice.
He returns with two bottles of water. “Did you finish choosing?”
You nod. His eyes drift to your hands. He cracks another smile that makes you happier then it should.
“I see. Let’s check out then, hm?”
Your heart flutters. You follow him quietly. He goes to the cashier the second time around - amiable, friendly and easing some unspoken tension. Apologizes for the inconvenience and, with familiar diligence, asks if there’s a recycling bin for him to toss trash nearby. The cashier offers to do it for him.
Afterwards, he holds his hand out to you like it’s only natural for you to want to hold it. You take it.
Of course, you do.
He guides you outside, and the two of you sit on the curb. An expectant look appears on his face when he dusts off place beside him where he’s hoping you’ll sit. You do, knees touching - folding your hands into your lap. He opens the bottle of water and hands it to you.
“We could’ve just shared one,” You offer.
“I’m not so stingy,” Caleb says.. You purse your lips. You want to tell him that’s not what you mean, but you don’t want to ask yourself what you do mean.
You take it from him and drink.
Silence stretches over the seemingly endless night. The streets of Linkon prove to be busy and limitless. Given the district you’re in, you’d expect it to be more packed - but the streets are desolate. Proof of life resides in the lights of buildings and clubs but now, here—it feels like you’re the only two people left in the world.
It’s quiet for a long while. You sit like that until you break the ice.
“You still haven’t asked me anything.”
“Well,” Caleb looks at you from the corner of his eyes and shrugs, taking a drink. “I can kind of guess why you were there in the first place. Don’t have much of a clubbing spirit, you know. Your friends probably told you to go right?”
You nod.“You’re not upset?”
“Mm,” Caleb sighs. “Not at you for just going. It’s hard to be mad at you especially when you…” He trails off, an almost imperceptible smile on his. He shakes his head before continuing and you miss the window to ask about what that was all about. He glances at you again. “Your dress is too short, though.”
You feel heat crawl up your skin. “It’s not that bad. And I’m nineteen,”
“So? You’re still my baby sister. Naturally I won’t approve, right? You know that much.”
You bend over your knees, pouting. You feel weirdly happy but try not to think about it. “You’re so unreasonable sometimes.”
He clicks his tongue. “I’m being very reasonable right now,”
“...Mm.”
Tension lingers in the air. You open the chips Caleb got you and tilt it his way. A peace offering. He takes one.
“Why’d you run off?”
You make a face. Will yourself to not cry as you tuck your chin.
“...I dunno.”
He glances at you. You miss the knowing expression on his face. “Even if you were doing a good job of lying, you know that wouldn’t work on me right? Did something happen? Something you can’t tell me?”
“Nothing happened but you—”
Caleb interjects. “Me? So it’s because of me then.”
You bite your tongue. Caleb is lost in thought.
“I didn’t mean to ruin your night showing up. Didn’t know you’d even be there. It’s not like I’m mad or anything.” Caleb starts.
“It’s not that,” You say quickly. The frustration just thinking about it makes your throat well up. You can feel it. You drink water trying to wash it down.
“Then?”
It slips out of you, exasperated as you sit up and turn to look up at him.
“You were ignoring me,” You say, voice wet and shaky - hands fisted at your knees, shoulders tight. You still haven’t sobered up much. Your lips curl into a frown. Caleb is stunned into silence. “You didn’t even… I thought you were mad at me. And then that girl sitting next to you was—”
You stop yourself. Caleb looks at you wide-eyed. Opens his mouth to say something but closes it again soon after. He processes what you’ve said slowly, though he doesn’t seem surprised by all of it.
“I wasn’t mad at you. Surprised, but not so mad. Even if I were mad, I wouldn’t ignore you. It’d make more sense for me to drag you out myself, don’t you think?”
You huff. “It felt like you were mad at me. And—”
You want to ask. Who was she? Why was she so close to you? Why didn’t you push her away? Do you like her?
Nothing comes out right. You bite your lip. “That girl… was she your friend?”
Caleb stops. He looks awkward all of a sudden. “Huh? No, no. She’s my senior. She has someone else she likes,”
“She was hitting on you,” You say bluntly, sticking your feet out. “And you didn’t stop her.”
For a brief moment, you swear he looks amused. His expression settles again quickly. “I know she’s not being serious so I didn’t feel like there was any point causing a rift.”
“She’ll get the wrong idea. If you don’t turn her down properly and just let her—” Be all over you. Touch you so close. Get in your space. “...flirt with you.”
A beat. “You think I should turn her down properly then?”
It hangs in the air. You want me to turn her down?
You bite the inside of your lip. “Yeah.”
“Will it make you feel better?”
Your eyes meet. For a brief second you feel like someone has stolen all the air from your lungs in one go. You look down.
“Yeah,”
Caleb’s breath hitches just a touch before he speaks. “Okay.”
He opens his arm up to invite you closer and slot into his side the way you used to. Blinking wetly, you scoot across the concrete and tuck yourself under the safety of his arm. Your face is close to his chest. He smells like cologne and iit makes your heart beat feel erratic. His hand comes up to stroke your head and you let him soothe you like you have so many times before.
“No matter what happens, there’s nothing you could do or say that’d make me angry enough to ignore you. I’d never ignore you if I didn’t think you wanted me to,”
“I never want you to ignore me, ever.” You say immediately. “Never ever.”
He chuckles. The way it reverbs in your body makes you dizzy. “Okay, princess. Noted. Do you wanna sit a little longer or should I call a car for you?”
You tuck into his side. It’d be nice if you never had to leave him ever again. Pressing into him, your words muffle in the fabric of his shirt. You tug at the hem.
“Wanna stay here. Just for a bit.”
He hesitates above you. But a while later, you feel his lips at the crown of your head - right at your hairline. His voice is gentle. “Sure. As long as you want,”
__
At twenty-two, you often dream of your older brother.
At first, it’s grief. Caleb dies not long after your birthday and in the months that pass - the warm memories of your childhood seem to follow you into sleep. Some nights, it feels kind to see him. In your dream, you run into his arms and he holds you tight when you tell him you missed him.
Grief holds the rest of you hostage. You want for nothing and think of nothing except your brother. You miss Grandma too, of course you do.
But there’s nothing in the entire world like a brother. Like your brother—who you could ask anything of. It’s hard to unpack the loneliness you feel. Hard to explain it to other people.
In the months you correct yourself from saying have to had—and watch peoples eyes change into one of sorrow and pity. At the worst of it, you can’t even pretend to think of that as a kindness. Can’t even thank them for being nice. At the worst of your grief, you find yourself especially angry at being pitied. You look at people and want to say they don’t understand. They don’t know what you lost. There are no words that make it digestible. You bite your tongue, give a tight-lipped smile.
What you wanted to say was this: How dare you act like you understand what I lost? How dare you feel sorry when you don’t know the half of it? My brother is dead. A piece of me is missing.
You never say any of it. You bury the words in the black vast of your grief and throw yourself at finding answers.
Your feelings about the incident change the more you find out. About Grandma and the abomination in your heart—and you cycle from anger to sorrow to unease.
They never change about Caleb though. The apparition of him, warm and broad, cycles through your dreams every now and again. Some nights, you wake up expecting to be seven years old again—clinging to your older brother, the only thing you know in the world that’s made you lose everything.
Most nights, you wake up from dreamless sleep and feel yourself wanting to cry.
(You don’t cry often when he’s gone, even when you should.
Who would be there to hold you now when you do?)
When you finally see Caleb again, see him alive—your emotions become just as complicated as your mind has been in the months of his absence.
You’re ecstatic, you’re angry, you’re terrified, you’re so so sad. You are all of these things at the same time.
And then, you realize that the death of Caleb did not only change you. Your older brother comes back to you. He’s warm, kind, and gentle sometimes. But it’s not the same. There’s something about him, inexplicable, that is changed forever.
Caleb dies and comes back wrong—but this only strengthens your resolve. To do what, exactly? You aren’t sure. You don’t know what you want and you still know nothing about the Aether Cores. Or about what Caleb does.
All you do know is that your older brother has come back to you, and you are empty without him. You’d rather have him wrong than not have him at all. You’ll fix him or become wrong with him before you ever let go of him again.
(Even the way he is now, sometimes, he seems worried about ruining you. You want to say sometimes—then ruin me. You know what he’d say if you did. He knows he’d tell you to watch your tongue and not to say what you don’t mean.
You’ve thought about it, though. You’d rather that then he disappear again. You’d rather you know what's going on then not. )
Things have changed. Caleb has changed.
You have changed, most of all.
When you hear from Caleb for the first time he no longer wants to be your brother - that he’s tired from playing house with you, your first reaction is devastation. The memory of that dread is so strong, you still feel it when you replay it all in your mind. Caleb above you, caging you in, unreadable—no longer what you know.
You don’t think about anything. You can’t. It destroys you completely to hear him say it. Makes you want to cling to him and beg. Cry loudly enough to wake the version of him that did want to be your brother. That loved you unconditionally.
When you have to go the next morning and find a memory of your childhood tucked away - you realize not all of him is lost to you. That the parts of him you loved so dearly have not entirely disappeared.
So you stay, and try to mend the broken pieces of your relationship back together.
At twenty-two, you often dream of your brother.
When he comes back to you, you think you’ll be given one more dream before he disappears. You figure the real thing is back in your hands. It’ll go back to the way it was before, where your sleep is long and dreamless but that’s fine. As long as you can wake-up and see the sun, without feeling like yours was stolen from you—anything is fine.
At twenty-two, even after you learn he’s alive, you often dream of your brother.
The first time you ever have a wet dream of Caleb is just after he comes back to Linkon.
After you sit in the garden with Caleb and blow the hydrangea petals away from his face, and his hand comes up to touch you. After he promises to take good care of the flower he takes back to SkyHaven. After he tells you there was no way he’d be able to stay away from you.
When you sleep the night after he returns home, you dream of Caleb again.
This time you’re in your bedroom—the one from your childhood home, that Caleb spent so many years taking up space in. You dream of your brother on top of you and you both look a little younger. His face contorted with pleasure, and your hand being the one to give it to him. The image missing from the waist down, all you can see is the clear view of him over you. Making it so obvious what you’re doing. Doing together.
You wake up from your dream with a feeling like something’s crushing your chest. A wheezing breath as you struggle to calm down. A distinct feeling of wetness between your legs that cling to your PJs when you stumble into your bathroom - trying to relieve yourself and being confronted with the reality of what just happened.
The first time you have a wet dream about Caleb—you only feel shame. You tell yourself that it’s a fluke, and that dreams are meaningless anyway. It makes you violated to think of him like that. You can’t control what you do in your sleep. You decide not to dwell.
Weeks pass and you see Caleb again. You share fruit and more conversation, and the following night - you have another wet dream. This one, more vivid than the last. Different. You dream of Caleb with a baton to your neck and the tension in the room when he caged you in his arms. In your dreams he’s cruel as he drags the metal end down your body, pushes it against your—
You wake up the next morning almost inconsolable.
The cycle repeats for as long as you see him. Every time Caleb appears in your life, you dream of him the next night. You wake up in shock, wet down your legs and spend all morning trying to suppress it down as far as you can.
You tell yourself all sorts of things when it happens. You reason with yourself. Dreams are nonsense. You can’t control them. It’s your brother. You don’t think of him like that.
(You think of all the times you’ve seen him since he’s returned. All the ways his eyes soften for you, all the ways his hands linger—how ever since he’s denied being your brother at all, you think of what that might make you now.
It breaks your heart to not have him as your brother. Your precious family. An unbreakable bond. The one you love most. He touches you the way brothers aren’t supposed to, and you remind yourself of what you can’t have. You remind yourself of what loss you would feel first.
He always looks pained when he touches you like that, though. And, for some strange reason, sometimes you want to tell him: Did you know I dreamt of you touching me? So you don’t need to make that face. Like you’re wrong. My dreams couldn’t make you this gentle.)
The harder you try to force it down, the harder it is to pretend it’s nothing. You push and push and push—but each time you see him, the cycle repeats.
Eventually, it’s too hard to pretend. You refuse to name it, or think about it—but when you let your mind stop forcing it so deep into your subconscious, it’s easier to reconcile.
It doesn’t go away. But your skin prickles with embarrassment, and you sigh, and you move on from it. Even if the dreams don’t stop, you can go on about your day when you leave it all alone.
You think maybe, if you and Caleb never saw each other again, it might even work to rid you of the dreams completely.
But he’s your brother—your precious family, the one you love most. You see him all the time. Whenever your schedule allows it, he’s the first person you check with to see if you can come spend time with him. Even if he can’t be with you, you stay over at his place to eat his food and watch TV on his expensive flatscreen.
It makes you feel like you live together again.
(You try not to reel at the thought. It’s normal for siblings to stay together from time to time. It’s like a sleep over. That’s all.)
So it’s not unusual for you anymore to drop by his place. You even have a key.
(Your key, you think. Caleb put a stupid green apple cover on the top part of it. It’s for you, and only you.)
Even when you do come over, sometimes you only see him at night. You have little conversations before you need to go to sleep (or rather, when he makes you go to sleep.) But it still feels better than only seeing him sometimes.
So it’s not unusual for you to be here in your PJs and watching something stupid while draped on Caleb’s couch.
It is unusual, however, to have him come home so soon.
PART TWO: SO ONLY SAY MY NAME, IT WILL BE HELD AGAINST YOU.
You pick your head up as soon as you hear the security system for Caleb’s apartment announce someone at the door. The time reads 6:56pm.
Heavy footfall makes you pick yourself up, crawling to the edge of the couch and standing on your knees to catch sight of him. You lean forward.
“You’re home early.”
It takes him a second to register who's talking, but he smiles slightly when he does. Turnt towards the doors, he’s leaned against a wall as he undoes the laces of his steel-toed boots.
“So are you,”
You give him a melodic hum. “I got off since we have a holiday. I have Monday off too.”
“Yeah? That’s good. You should try to rest up some,”
“I will. Gotta catch up on my shows first though,” You reply thoughtfully. “I’m like half-way through ‘em.”
“Workin’ hard I see. Try not to over-exert yourself.” He adds, playfully sarcastic. You nod.
You answer him in silly earnest. “Of course. I’m more relaxed here so don’t worry.”
He pauses as he finally stands back up. You see him at the other side of the room with a smile.
“Yeah?”
You feel something in your stomach that you choose to ignore. “Yeah. Plus I don’t have to eat my own groceries.”
“It’s better you eat mine than me wasting them,” He says with a shrug.
“How generous of you.”
“Right?”
You lean forward, resting more of your weight on the couch. “Did they just send you home early too? Or is it some special Colonel privilege?”
You see him shake his head as he slides off his coat and walks over to the fridge, grabbing a plastic bottle of water out of it before taking a few long drinks.
“Mm, kinda the first.” He says thoughtfully. “I got injured in the field today, had to go to the infirmary. It’s a minor injury but I checked in with my commanding officer and he told me I might as well go home.”
You frown. “What kind of injury?”
“It’s really fine,”
“Caleb.”
He sighs, turning towards you. The open fridge door illuminates him. “Just got a bruise along my thigh from how I fell. Nothing broken.” He says. You’re still frowning at him. “Don’t worry about it.”
“How can you be fine if they sent you home?”
“It’s not like that,”
“I don’t believe you,” You say petulantly. Caleb shuts the fridge door with his hip as he laughs.
“What, you want me to show it to you?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s on my thigh. I’d have to take off my pants,” He says, laughing. He joins you on the couch - sitting where you were laying—eyeing you while he waits for you to come join him. You narrow your eyes suspiciously but crawl over to him anyway, sitting beside him with your legs up. “Unless you’re really just wanting me to strip, promise it’s fine. I’ve had it worse,”
“That’s not a good thing. If it were me you’d be freaking out already and fussing over me.”
“It’s different,”
“Is not,”
“Is too. My little sisters still a bit of weakling, see—if I don’t take good care of her she’ll end up hurting herself even worse,” Caleb says, voice high.
“I’m not even weak. Maybe not as strong as you but not weak.”
“When you get stronger than me, we can talk about who gets to worry about who,” He says, flicking your forehead lightly. You pretend to flinch at the injury.
“You let me do whatever I want except worry about you.”
“You got it. Glad you’re getting up to speed.”
You elbow him. Caleb laughs.
You sit back with your knees to your chest, frowning. Caleb leans back, arm stretched on the back of the couch. Inching closer to him subconsciously, your brow furrows as you think about his injury.
It’s like he reads your mind.
“You’re really worried about it.” He murmurs.
You purse your lips. “No shit.”
“Don’t cuss,”
“I’m twenty-two!”
“So?” He raises his eyebrow.
“You make me want to strangle you sometimes.”
“If you succeed I’ll be impressed.”
You glare at him. “I’ll make sure to wait until you’re fully recovered so it counts,”
He relaxes into the couch, eyes filled with mirth. “Smart move.”
“You’re still in your outside clothes. Don’t you want to wash up first?”
“Do I smell bad?”
“No, that’s not it. But if you get too comfortable, you might not want to get up to do it, you know?”
“I’m not like a certain someone, so I’m not worried about that.” Caleb says. You huff as he continues on. “I just wanted to sit with you for a bit first. Is that not okay?”
“I didn’t say all of that. Don’t put words in my mouth, jeez.”
He hums. “Just checking,”
Comfortable quiet settles between you as Caleb sits and watches your drama with you intently.
You relax further into the couch as you settle back in, once again engrossed in your show. It’s a period and fantasy drama about a once noble woman getting married against her will to a supposedly cruel emperor. Crude description aside, it has high political stakes, violence, and good writing.
The romance aspect of the show was what drew you in more-or-less, but it’s a slowburn between the main couple. You’ve mostly been watching for the high-tension plot. It captures both your attention and seemingly Caleb’s too.
“Wait,” Caleb interrupts half-way through an episode. “I want to watch the rest with you but I need to shower,”
You smile at him. “It’s good right? It’s not a lot of romance but there’s other stuff. We can watch it together after you wash-up and maybe…we can have a drink together.”
“You’re so interested in that,”
“I want to know what kind of drunk you are. It’s not fair you’ve seen me drunk and I haven’t,”
“Pfft,” He rubs your head with hand, amused. “What kind of reason is that? But you know what? Sure. Order whatever you want with my card while I go shower.”
“Yay!”
You pause the TV as Caleb stands up and stretches, fishing for his wallet and passing you his card. Snatching it from between his fingers, you give him a mischievous look that makes him laugh.
“Go shower,”
“I am, I am,” He holds his hands up. “I’ll be quick,”
__
You watch your drama late into the evening.
You drink casually with Caleb as you binge watch the final few episodes of the season you started on. You take a break later in the night to have dinner delivered to you, but afterwards - you decide to keep watching.
Caleb wasn’t lying when he told you he holds his drink well. You’ve both been knocking them back since eight pm. Even with the time to sober up in between, he seems like he hasn’t had a single thing to drink the entire time.
You feel far from wasted, a warm meal in your stomach settling some of inebriation - but you still feel somewhat tipsy. At least enough to have that pleasant, warm, loose-limbed buzzed. You’re sober enough that Caleb doesn’t get on your case about drinking enough water - though you sure it’ll be a different story in another hour or two if it keeps going.
Half-past midnight - you’re two episodes deep into the third season of your drama.
Relaxed, you’re half-way draped on Caleb - legs in hips lap and nursing another cheap can of beer. After several episodes of action and violence - the story is starting to get back to the romance aspect for the main couple.
Maybe it’s your fault for not thinking it through, but you’re really not expecting a graphic sex scene to play so soon after so much high plot.
In the first place, it doesn’t start out like a sex scene. The main character went to go visit her injured husband after he returned from battle. Sweet, you thought. Maybe you’d get to see them have some intense, longing eye-contact like they’ve been having for a while now.
You aren’t sure when exactly it takes a left turn. You’re tipsy and comfortable and warm. On your phone looking things up on social media.
They kiss once, then twice before a breathy moan cuts through the comfortable.
Before you can scramble to find the remote and scrub through it, the scene changes instantly in temperature. A few tepid kisses rapidly go from chaste to deep, all tongue and teeth.
Near full blown nudity flashes across your T.V. screen as a strange heat creeps up your neck. You feel like you’ve had enough mental torment when you see the male lead kiss his way down the female leads neck. It’s more uncensored then you thought.
Your voice is trembling a little. “We should uhm,” You swallow thickly. “Where’s the remote..?”
Caleb feels a little… different. He seems startled hearing you speak, looking at you with lidded eyes. “Not sure. Think you had it last,”
“Oh, right. I don’t,” Another moan rips through the tension between you. It takes your full body effort not to jump. “....really remember where I put it,”
“You want me to help you look?”
You blink at him. “I mean… we should, probably look for it. Since, uhm… you know.”
“Are you uncomfortable?” Caleb interrogates. You stare at him.
“You aren’t?”
Caleb is quiet for a long time, like he’s thinking hard about the answer.
“I feel fine,” Is what he says after what feels like forever.
“You feel… fine.”
He nods without looking at you. “We can skip it if you want. Probably have to get up to find the remote, though.”
You sink back in the couch, your face feeling warm. “It’s fine, then.”
You’re a little startled as the couple on T.V starts to really have sex - at least more than foreplay. It’s not full frontal, but the sounds and angles are enough to get the point across. Caleb just… watches. Relaxed.
“You sure?” He offers, glancing at you again. “It’s fine if it’s too much for you,”
Frowning, you sit up slightly. “What do you mean too much for me?”
“Hm?”
“You’re saying it like you’re used to it,”
Caleb gives you another glance. Assess you once or twice before looking back at the T.V.
“Does it matter if I am or I’m not?”
You find yourself at a loss for words. Is he used to this? That can’t be the case, right?
“You never dated anyone when we were growing up.”
Caleb nods. “You don’t really need to date someone for something like that, though it’s better that way.”
You find yourself shocked by his answer. He’s changed a lot, you know that but—
But it feels wrong. You can’t imagine him just hooking up with someone and having a one-night stand. He’d only ever do it with a girlfriend. So if he has any experience, it’d have to be with someone like that.
He smiles at you. “You’re making a scary face.”
You look up at him, unsure of what face you should be making. The question slips out before you can stop to think about whether or not you should even ask it.
“So are you… used to it?”
He pauses before leaning in. “This is the second time you’ve asked,”
“That’s…”
“I don’t think it’s the kind of thing someone’s little sister should ask their older brother right?”
You snap your mouth shut. Caleb leans a little closer. “Right?”
“You’re not answering,” You whisper. Your foreheads touch.
“Is there a specific answer you’re looking for?” Caleb says.
Your eyes widen, teeth pressing against your lip as you tear your gaze away from his face. . “No,”
“Is that what my answer should be or are you answering what I just asked?”
You don’t give him a reply.
Caleb lets out a soft breath of laughter before he finally seems to decide he’s teased you enough. He gets like this more and more lately. Most times you cool off from it quickly but…
You aren’t sure what drives you to make a move. What makes you tug him back to you by the front of his shirt when he tries to pull away. If it’s the alcohol, or the jealousy that makes you do it. It’s hard to say what the source of your heart pumping so hard is—only that it’s all Caleb’s doing.
Your hands fist in the front of his shirt as you drag him forward and kiss him as hard as you possibly can, only barely avoiding biting down with your teeth. Chaste but harsh, you press your lips together with nothing but pure desperation, air pushing hard through your lungs as you do. For a minute or two, longer than a kiss should last.
And then, you pull away. Out of breath like you just ran a marathon, cheeks hot and flushed. Your first kiss that you initiated. It’s almost mundane.
Embarrassed, your first instinct is to jump off the couch and lock yourself in the bathroom. But Caleb knows you. Even better than you know yourself.
He catches your wrist as he leans towards you. His expression is unreadable.
“You kissed me,” He says, completely entranced. “You did right? I didn’t just dream that?”
“It’s your imagination. You must be drunk,”
He laughs good naturedly. “Maybe I am.”
Your frown deepens. How do you refuse him when he acts like that?
Your heart feels like a jackhammer against your ribcage. You can’t. You really can’t. You shouldn’t have—
“I didn’t mean to k-kiss you,”
Blatant heartache fills his eyes. It feels like something is crushing your chest. “Is that so?”
You squeeze your eyes, relenting only a little. Your voice is barely above a whisper. “We can’t.”
Caleb scoffs “Why? Because you see me as your brother?”
“You are my brother. You are and you always will be, and I don’t want to lose that. I can’t, I can’t. You’re—”
“Why can’t you?” His voice is raw, almost desperate. Trying so hard to understand you. It makes you hurt seeing him like that. “What can I do to become more to you?”
“You’re already`—” Everything to me. “You’ll always be the most important person to me.”
His hands grip tighter, devastation darkening the familiar aura of warmth you’ve come to love. Like he’s at the precipice of something considering what he should do. It takes him a while to come upon answers. Staring at you so desperately before closing his eyes, loosening his grip like he’s ready to let you go.
He looks like he makes a choice then. Really makes one. You can already predict what’ll do. What smile he’ll give you but it feels different from other times.
You hold onto him before he can, hand fisted in his shirt. He startles again, softens, not agitated despite how wishy-washy you’re being.
“It’s not that I don’t want you,” You say, so quietly it almost evades you both. “But I don’t want to lose you as my brother if we become more than that.”
Silence falls between you.
“You won’t lose me,” He replies, gently and easily. Your eyes meet. It’s nice. “I want to be everything to you, remember? All of it. I want you to only think of me for the rest of our life. For us to only need each other. You don’t need to give anything up. When have I ever said no to you?”
You turn away from him, shaking your head. “You said that you never saw me as family, that you wouldn’t be—”
Caleb stops you. “I want to be everything to you. Everything. I want us to only need each other. I had to make you understand. From the start, I never intended to give anything up for anyone else.”
“But that’s…”
“I don’t care if it’s wrong,” He says, reading your mind. “I’m asking what you want. Tell me who you want me to be. I’ll do all of it for you.
You glance down, away from him - guilt, remorse, fear. You’re resolve is wavering, but you’re too afraid to say it out loud.
His voice softens. A hand, big and warm and kind, cups your cheek. You know. Know every scar, every touch.
“Tell your big brother what you want and he’ll give it to you.”
Something in you shatters. The weak resistance you’ve been trying to hold onto so desperately, denying yourself of what you’ve wanted deep down all this time. Having it offered to you, handed to you—proves to be too much. It all comes tumbling down.
Your voice comes out like a whine. Your dependency more than shows.
“Touch me,” You gasp, voice wet with tears. Caleb cracks a slight smile. “Touch me, please—want you so bad. Don’t want anyone else to have you.”
Caleb looks elated. Adoring. Madly and terribly in love.
“What a crybaby, hm?” He pulls away from you, standing up before scooping you in his arms “Here. Hold onto me. I’ll carry you,”
“Caleb, I’m too—”
He stops you. “I have a bionic arm. Don’t say you’re too heavy. It could carry ten of you.”
He keeps good on his promise. You wrap your arms around Caleb’s neck as he picks you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist, a gasp leaves your mouth as his hands rest under your thighs - lifting you as he walks you to his room. It reminds you of when you were little though a lot has changed since then.
The realization makes you nervous.
“The TV is still playing.” You mumble..
“You won’t be able to hear it from my room,”
“This is embarrassing,”
“You’ll live.” Caleb hums.
“I hate you,”
Caleb opens his bedroom door with his hip and closes it the same way, walking you to the end of his bed and dropping you on to his mattress. He leans over you, hands on either side of your thighs to keep himself up - inches away from your face.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean. It’ll make me sad.” He says sweetly.
You pout. “Sorry,”
He laughs a little. “It’s okay,”
This close to you, you feel a strange warmth glow your whole body. You crane your neck up to kiss him chastely, pulling away and feeling shy again.
“You taste like beer,”
Caleb stares at you for a long time, smiling slightly. Dazed. “Should I go brush my teeth?”
You look down, away from his face, your hands fiddling with the ends of his shirt. “No…”
He presses his forehead to yours, noses brushing. “How can you be so cute, hm?”
“Quit that,” You whine.
“If you get this embarrassed just hearing you’re cute, you’ll have a hard time later on.”
You blink up at him owlishly. He laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“I’m barely holding it together, you know?”
You look up at him.
“What do you wanna do to me?”
His eyes seem to dilate. “Don’t ask me that,”
“Tell me. I want to know,”
He laughs breathlessly. “That’s unfair,”
“I don’t have to be fair with you,” You say petulantly. “Tell me,”
“I’ve spoiled you too much.” Caleb says, faux regret. “Even if you get scared, you can’t run away.”
“I won’t get scared,”
“Really?” Caleb hums. He moves to the side, his mouth next to your ear - voice barely audible. He puts his hands over yours as he towers over you. “You sound confident, but you know—I’ve wanted to touch you for so long. So badly that it scares me just thinking about it. Can you handle that?”
It’s a confession you think, as much as it’s dirty talk. He pulls back and you’re face to face again.
“I’m not scared of you. Even if you can’t control yourself I won’t be scared.” You tell him, headstrong as always.
His smile falters. “I don’t want to hurt you,”
“I know you like to call me a weakling but you know I’m not really made of my glass,” You stare at him, eyes tracing over his features. “It’ll be hard for you to break me in one go. Might’ve be fun,”
He tsks. “Don’t talk like that. I’d prefer to treasure you.”
You look at him for a long time quietly.
“I dreamt of you.”
“Hm?”
You feel your face flush, but for some strange reason - you have an urge to tell him. The words come easy. Maybe you’ve just been waiting for a reason to confess.
“Of you touching me,” Caleb’s eyes go wide. You smile a little. “Used to dream of you when you were, you know… but it wasn’t the way I dream of you now.”
“How do you dream of me now?” His voice is strained.
“They’re dirty dreams,” You say, fidgeting. “Sometimes I’m touching you and making you feel good. But most of the time, it’s you doing whatever you want to me.”
His voice is hoarse. “Yeah?”
“Mm,” You lock eyes. You can see it in him. It almost feels cruel, but you’re not saying it to tease him. “I had a wet dream about when you were interrogating me. You were being mean in that one. Really mean,”
“I already said sorry about that,”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,”
He swallows. “Oh,”
“Yeah, oh.” You slide your hand up his arms, squeezing the back of his biceps as he leans over you. Look up at him with mutual love. “I’ll only say it once so please listen carefully: I’m fine with anything if it’s you.”
It’s unexpected when Caleb tackles you to the bed. Not to kiss you, rather—but to hug you. You squeal as you both drop onto the mattress with your legs hanging off the edge. Caleb’s full weight crushes you, trapping you in his arms. You find yourself laughing a little, giggly as you feel him squeeze you tight enough to crush you.
“You’re squishing me, Caleb.”
He laughs breathlessly, rolling you both to the side. Pulling away with your face inches apart, he beams.
“Do you know that I’m crazy about you? Or do you say things like that not even knowing?”
“I don’t know,” You say, burying your face against his chest. “I just know you take good care of me. I want to take good care of you too,”
A spectrum of emotions pass through Caleb’s features at once at the admission. It’s the most vulnerability he’s ever shown you.
His body stiffens. He takes a deep breath before pulling away from you. You watch him innocently as he pushes himself up closer to the headboard. Rolling onto your stomach, you stare at him as he rolls onto his side.
“More comfortable this way, right?”
Consider without trying, your face warms. Caleb’s voice is whisper soft. “C’mere.”
You push yourself up until you’re closer to him, legs no longer hanging off the edge.
Within his reach, Caleb’s hand find your waist. He’s strong, you forget it all too easily—until he’s manhandling you to be in his grasp. Careful but demanding. Rolling on his back, he pulls you onto his lap until you’re straddling him.
The view proves too much for you both. His face is pink. A sheepish smile on his face.
“Regretting it?”
You shake your head quickly, careful not to rest your weight on his lap. He rests one of his hands on your thigh, closer to your knee and steals a glance at you.
Like this, you become aware of him for the first time. Consciously, as if he’s become a completely different person. All the things you’d never allow yourself to consider, slowly draw into focus. Like seeing him with a new set of eyes.
You notice every detail. Sparking arousal and curiosity, you put your hand on his chest and just stare. Unconsciously, your fingers reach for the dog-tag necklace you gifted him - straightening it. Metal warmed underneath your fingertips, you center it on his shirt. At the dip of his muscles where his chest is.
Fitted tank-top shows off enough to give you an idea of what’s underneath. Smooth, alabaster skin. Muscles bulking underneath the ribbed cotton - soft and supple from lack of tension, rising and falling with each breath. Your thumb smooths over the silly apple-shaped pendant, the raised letter of the dogtags. The brief skin to skin makes the air feel electric.
You do it unthinkingly, really. Following your instinct, you rest your hand on his chest before sliding them up closer to his neck. Defined clavicles, the long column of his throat and how it leads to the angled curve of his jaw. Eventually, your hand finds his face. His boyish features—handsome but youthful. Caleb leans into the touch. His usual, playful teasing nowhere to be found. It makes you jolt in surprise. His expression is painted by desire, a rosy flush to what's an otherwise perfect face.
His voice grows thick. An octave deeper than you’re used to. “Having fun?”
“Nn,” You shift under the weight of his gaze. “Sorry,”
“S’fine,” He says, pressing his cheek to your palm. “You can touch me however you want.”
Hearing it embarasses you. But your reply comes quickly. “You too,”
Caleb smiles shakily. His hand slides up your thigh. It’s slight, barely there. His hands are trembling.
“Can I kiss you?”
“We’ve kissed before,”
He shakes his head. “It won't be like before.”
“I don’t have any experience,”
Caleb laughs breathlessly. “I don’t care.”
You frown, but let yourself fall forward. Suddenly inches apart, your eyes widen. Caleb is staring at you this time. His eyes soaking in your expression, gaze falling onto your lips and staying there. They flicker back to yours for silent permission.
You meet his eyes completely assured. He swallows and cranes his neck, his hand coming up to your face to cradle it. His thumb traces your lips, inching himself closer and closer. You can hear his breath. Feel it on your face from how close you are.
Cupping your nape, he presses his lips to yours with unfathomable tenderness—undercut with the hottest flames of desires you’ve ever felt. It’s hard to describe it. All of the kisses you’ve ever had in your life have been Caleb’s, but this one really is different.
An unfamiliar desperation fills it despite being a gentle press of lips. He pulls away and you miss him. Try to chase it as he speaks against your mouth.
“Open your mouth, baby. Breathe through your nose,”
You listen to your older brother obediently, mouth parting as he leans in to kiss you again. Soft at first before pulling you down deeper into him by your. A moan escapes you subconsciously and you feel Caleb shiver. Eyes closed, you let him guide you through it. He controls the depth, the pace. You kiss deeply like that, holding each other before he pulls away again.
Every time you part, you feel a strange pang of sadness. Caleb never leaves you like that for too long
Your mind is hazy with desire as you fall into a pace with him. He breathes hard each time he pulls away from you, seems overwhelmed each time he kisses you again. Switching between deep kisses to chaste one, your lips throb from the overwhelming intensity of it. His mouth perfectly warm, lips soft and full. Wet as the kiss deepens but not unpleasantly. A tingly sensation that makes your skin prick.
You make a noise of surprise when Caleb slips his tongue against your mouth. But you don’t dislike it. Rather, out of curiosity, you copy him.
(A habit of your childhood—to copy your older brother and keep what you like from him as your own. )
Caleb inhales when you mirror him. Your eyes flicker open briefly to see his face, pleased by the draw of his eyebrows, before letting them close again.
There’s nothing intimidating about kissing Caleb. Every fear you harbor about how you should do it is washed away by the sheer force of your lust for one another. Like a gap of communication has finally been bridged—with your soft tongues sliding against each other, brushing against his palate, open mouth panting, subconsciously rocking your hips. Each second of doubt is brushed away by the overwhelming feeling of mutual, lovesick desire. It flows through your veins with more naturality than even your blood. Nothing more righteous, more sure.
You kiss like you’re telling him every secret you’ve ever kept—lips incapable of anything but honest confession. Holding onto each other in desperate, desperate necessity. A lifeline. A lifetime of holding it in, unraveling like the seconds couldn’t pass quickly enough to answer for it.
It feels like the beginning of devouring. You’ve never felt so hungry for something in your life. It gnaws at your conscious thoughts.
Desire simmers as you subconsciously settle your weight on Caleb’s lap, rocking your hips against the pleasant hardness meeting it. Not entirely sure of what it is your even touching. Caleb moans softly each time you do.
“Fuck,” Caleb pulls away finally. You whine and he laughs at you. Kisses you again, just once. “Shh, baby.”
“Nn, you don’t wanna kiss?” Your words come out slurred, even to your own ears.
“Not that I don’t want to, but you’re—” His laugh comes out higher, breathier. “Doing a little more than kissing,”
“Mm?”
He looks up at you. Amusement mixed with arousal. “You don’t even know what you’re doing, do you?”
“Feels good,”
“You’re this weak to a little pleasure,” Caleb says. His hands are hot as they squeeze your hips. “Can’t you feel what you’re sitting on?”
The question sobers you. Caleb hold you steady to stop you before changing the pace. Uses his strength to hold your hips down as he grinds you over the full length of his…
“Oh,” You’re startled. You’re grinding against—
“You’ve been grinding against my dick like that without thinking about it at all. Isn’t that dangerous?”
A shiver wracks through you. Caleb’s voice is husky, low when he says. It’s crass and to the point—something you could never imagine hearing him say. But now that you have heard it, it makes it feel like your whole body is melting. Sticky arousal climbs through your limbs, leaves your mind muddled as you moan. Shivering, you fall forward in his arms. He closes them around your back, grinding his hard-on against your clothed cunt. The way it catches on your clit so indirectly feels so good you could cum from it.
His lips find your face, your jaw. His kisses affectionate. “Feels good, huh?”
“Mmm,” You press your face to his neck. “Caleb,”
“Do you want to cum like this? Or do you want me to make you feel even better?”
“Better?”
“Yeah,” Caleb says, a promise. “Better. Promise. Do you want that?”
You nod. “I want it,”
“Gonna lay you on your back, okay?”
You make an affirmative noise as Caleb flips you on your spine with ease. Surprised by his strength again, you gasp a little as he turns you over until he’s over you. He kisses you sweetly.
Your head feels full. Too heavy on your shoulders. You want to put your tongue in his mouth again and you don’t feel all the way there. Caleb looms over you.
“You’re beautiful,” Caleb says, breathless. Your eyes go wide. “Really fucking beautiful,”’
“That’s…”
“I think it all the time. Want to say it to you all the time, but I never wanna scare you.” Caleb hums, a hand on your thigh.
“Why would that scare me?”
Caleb chuckles like it’s obvious. “You get skittish easily, you know? When I act less like your brother and more like…”
You finish the sentence for him with a pout. “My boyfriend?”
He hums like just hearing it feels good, eyes lidded. “Yeah. Like your boyfriend.”
“Well that’s….”
“Do I make you nervous?”
His expression is playful. Makes your stomach flip. Your hand finds the hem of his shirt.
“So what if you do?”
“It’d make me happy,”
“You want me to be nervous? How mean,”
He leans into your space. You kiss again and feel disappointed when it’s over. Were you always so desperate?
“Don’t put words in my mouth. It just feels good to know you think of me that way, yeah?”
Something about it, about him like this makes your stomach tie in knots. You make a face, head tilted trying to tempt him into doing what you want. Caleb knows without you speaking a word, always does. Dips his head down to appease, lips firm and steady. Soft and full enough to make you melt. Your arms around his neck, a little breathless, mewling at the way it makes it feel like there’s electricity in your skin.
“You really like kissing, huh,” Caleb says. He pulls away again. Casts a brief glance your way before he peppers kisses all across your face. Draws his lips down your jawline, hot and wet as he noses against your skin. He finds your pulse and darts his tongue across the sensitive skin of your neck.
You keen. It’s a sudden sound, sensitive. Your body shivers. Caleb makes an affirmative noise and does it again. Scrapes the same spot gently with teeth.
Another pitchy moan escapes your lips. Caleb breathes from his nose like laughter. Places more experimental bites and licks all along your neck. Your voice slips before you can catch it.
“Harder,”
He appeases you. Just like always. Feeling his teeth in your neck makes your mouth fall open and you moan his name like a small prayer.
His teeth leaves marks along your neck at your request, hands at your waist to hold you in place as you learn more about your body. You can feel your shorts dampen as he does it. It overwhelms you, makes you tremble with every light breath and every sordid bite. You don’t have any experience, have nothing tangible to compare it to except the things you did alone in your bedroom.
It doesn’t compare at all, though. No amount of relieving your sexual urges as a desperate teenager or fumbling against a stranger in a club even kind of helps your mind make sense of it. Caleb kissing and biting down your neck, his hands touching your skin—it’s the first time in your life you’ve ever felt it. First time you’ve known touch like this.
First time your mind has been rendered so useless to think.
He rests his mouth as his hands slide up your sides. You gasp slightly as they go underneath your shirt but you don’t make any move to stop it. Further and further they go until the reach for your back. Searching for something.
“You’re not wearing a bra,” He whispers..
“I don’t at home,”
He lets out a breath like the winds have been knocked out of him. “Right,”
“Are you into that?” You ask before you can stop yourself, surprised by the sound of your own voice. Caleb just laughs like he’s in disbelief.
“Take a guess,”
“I just don’t get it,”
Caleb doesn’t say anything to that. But his hands maneuver. Stopped just underneath the swell of your tits, his eyes look up at yours and ask for silent permission. His shoulders sag with relief when he receives it.
The way your chest fits in Caleb’s hands makes your breath hitch. Squeezing the fat of them, relishing how they feel between his palms. He’s quick after that, pulling your shirt up until it’s gathered underneath your neck. There’s an impatience to it that surprises you, something uncharacteristically lacking composure as he halfway undresses you.
His eyes linger like that for a long time. So long it makes your face burn.
“Stop staring,”
“...I don’t know if I can.”
There’s something like awe in his gaze. Your spine tingles, goosebumps appearing on his skin. The way his hands hold onto your waist. He presses his cheek just below your sternum with an loving sigh, kissing it as he picks his head back up. It’s sweet to the point it almost nauseates you. It might if it were anyone other than Caleb.
His thumbs draw over your nipples, hardened from arousal. Your chest rises and falls in anticipation, in ache. Thighs squeezing together in a silent admittance. His touch is experimental, careful in observing what elicits the most reaction out of you.
Chest tender, takes one of your nipples into his mouth without warning. You gasp, hand covering your mouth as you feel him smile against your chest.
The air shifts again. Hotter, heavier—there’s a sudden carnality to the way he’s touching you. Mouth latched onto your nipples tenderly, grazing them lightly with the blunt end of his incisors like he can guess everything you like. His mouth on your chest is overwhelming. It baffles you that something can feel that good. Each time you think you can’t be surprised any more, Caleb makes good on making you feel better and you’re forced to eat your words.
Between your legs is throbbing hard. Whatever Caleb can’t fit in his mouth, he teases with the rough pads of his fingers - brushing and squeezing and twisting. Alternating as to make sure nothing goes neglected. Your hips cant against air, frustrated by lack of friction. Caleb is relentless, but does not make any move to sate your growing desires.
“Caleb,”
His eyes are washed over as he looks up. A look on his face you don’t know, have never seen until now. His voice is low in the back of his throat, strong hands cupping your chest and squeezing.
“‘Mm?”
A sibling bond like this, you think, is to blame for understanding so quickly what Caleb wants. Something you know innately, deep in your subconscious that makes your cheeks grow hot. A hot, prickly feeling goes down your back and all your clothes suddenly feel restrictive. He sits and remains steadfast, but you can sense it too.
It feels good but something is missing. Something is off.
Despite his restless desire, he’s taunting you. Goading you. You groan and Caleb laughs.
“Don’t—Caleb. Please,”
“Did you want something?”
Another groan leaves your lips as his smile remains unfaltering.
“You promised you were gonna make it feel better,” You say, so petulant and childish to your own ears you wince.
Somewhat predictably, this works on Caleb right away. Overwhelming lust tucked carefully behind a thoughtful smile. “I did, huh?”
“Don’t be a jerk,” You reply. He laughs but not for long.
He has something flash on his face at your reply. You just kind of know. “Sorry, sorry,”
“Stop holding back.”
He looks surprised. “I’m not—”
You nudge him with your knee. “You are. You think I don’t know you? Didn’t you say you wanted me to see you differently? Stop acting like a cool older brother. It’s annoying,”
His expression is one of awe and amusement. It’s not quite that he’s irritated, but you can sense that you just barely get under his skin with the implication.
“Weren’t you the one who was crying about not wanting anything to change? Now you’re chiding me? You were acting so spoiled just a minute ago to get your way and now you’re saying you don’t want me acting like your big brother, hm?”
Your eyes widen at the change in character. It still feels like Caleb, but it’s so intense. Too sincere to be completely playful. A strange mix of lust, nerves and fear wash over you. “Just—”
He pushes himself back up to hover over you, swift as a hand cups your jaw, forcing your gaze up. Pure arousal shoots through your veins, almost unwittingly, as you catch sight of Caleb’s gaze. An vengeful quality to it.
“Meimei,” He says, and your breath hitches. Your head is clouded with the immoral lust of hearing it this way. “Your older brother didn’t teach you how to lie, right? If you want something, say it with your mouth. Say it clearly,”
A flush crawls onto your face, eyes darting away. Caleb allows you this much mercy. To let you look away feels kind.
It’s an uncomfortable sort of feeling. To acknowledge what desire, what reaction you’re seeking. It’s unfair, and childish - since Caleb has done nothing but love you from the very moment you met him. Kind, gentle, considerate—you love him so deeply that it hurts to breathe just thinking about all you’ve experienced.
Something about what you’re asking of him is ugly. Born of selfishness, the desire to have all of him, too.
“Ugh, just—stop saying you want me and show me,” You say, full of distress.
You see it in his eyes when something clicks.
And then, with a sudden force, he kisses you. It’s rougher than the ones previous, deeper, greedier. What you want. You moan into his mouth as Caleb licks at your lips, pulling away to kiss your cheek. Sweet as always.
“Don’t regret it,”
The change is immediate. In a way, he’s still just answering to your desires - but you don’t dislike this part of him. Your heart rate kicks up as Caleb strips you of your shirt completely before settling himself back down to where he started.
From just beneath your breasts, all the way down the place of your belly and navel - Caleb places hot, wet kisses to your skin. No longer languid but hurried, long fingers curling into the very edge of your waistband as he drops down further and further before settling between your thighs. He glances up at you when he begins to pull down your shorts but doesn’t ask you for permission and it makes you feel a strange thrill when he doesn’t.
Caleb tugs your shorts off and helps you wriggle out of them in one go - an audible groan escaping his mouth. Plain, tattered cotton panties hug your hips as you lay with your legs up. He nudges your thighs open as you place your feet flat on the bed. With your legs spread, your clothed cunt is readily visible.
He lets out a soft breath. When you look down, your eyes meeting—there’s something almost animalistic to him. A completely and utterly ruined expression, blush dusting across his nose and cheekbones.
“I want to make you feel as good as you can, okay?” Caleb says breathlessly.
He brings his mouth to your inner thigh, closer to your knee and places a sweet kiss on the skin. Both of his hands are gripping hard onto your hips, as he breathes in the scent over and over. It sets your body alight to see it in glimpses. His brow is furrowed as he sucks and bites sloppy hickies into the soft fat of your thighs - working his way up slowly. When he finds you properly marked on one leg, he repeats it on the other.
You can feel the ache of fresh bruises. A sensation that coaxes a completely new wave of arousal straight from the deepest depths of your body. An impossible wetness soaking the paper-thin cotton, sliding down the curve of your ass from how keyed up the touch makes you.
It’s less that he’s satisfied in his markings with you, more that his desire for you grows too heavy. Caleb stares at your pussy with eyes of pure, unmistakable reverence.
You have never been able to picture another human being looking at you the way he does.
So much ardor. So much bone-deep, blood-red voracity in a single gaze. The shakiness of his breathing, the harsh grip of his hands, that unsteady look in his eyes as his nose and mouth hover over the soaked panties over your pussy. As if you can see the words repeating in his mind: want, want, want. Nothing more certain.
Your whole body wracks with a shiver. You whimper with your hands fisted at your sides in anticipation.
A startled gasp escapes you as Caleb doesn’t do anything but press his nose firm to your pussy and breathe. Deep and unrepentant like he’s trying to memorize the scent of you, use it to track you like a bloodhound. Embarrassed warmth floods your system and you squirm in protest of his actions.
But you’re trapped there. Completely and utterly, rendered helpless by his gri. His eyes flicker up unfocused but quickly go back to being closed. It’s all the communication you need to know he intends to do exactly as you’ve begged him to do. To expose the extent of his unsavory appetite. Inhaling the scent of sweat and skin, of a day of lounging and leaving your pussy completely confined.
He looks so madly-in-love in the moment you find it hard to breathe even a word of protest. Your clit throbs unhelpfully in response.
Your mouth falls open in a silent scream when Caleb finally, finally drags his tongue over the seam of your panties. He doesn’t pull them off—instead sucking the wetness from the material. Puffy clit helplessly pulled into the force of it while trapped under your panties, you buck your hip up against his tongue. Caleb obliges you. He points the tip of his tongue and slides it over the small bud through the cotton - completely stiffened from arousal. You shake at the touch, the wet promise of pleasure. How the drenched fabric of your panties gives the most gratifying, mind-numbing friction. You moan loud. You can’t help the sound that leaves you when he licks your pussy.
You’ve never felt anything like it before. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt this way, but you’re under the impression that most people will never know a pleasure like this in their life.
When your underwear is completely saturated with spit - only then does Caleb let off from you. Without a single word of warning, he tugs away the material. Exposing your pussy, bare and throbbing - he blows warm air onto your clit and watches as you squirm.
Another beat of admiring before his mouth latches onto your pussy again. Panties tugged away haphazardly, his tongue sliding from wet hole all through the seam, the soft folds of your pussy - settling at your clit. He licks experimentally, wading through your moans. When his tongue tastes your clit just the right way, you practically scream.
With newfound dedication, he commits to worshipping your pussy with his mouth.
It’s humiliating. Purely euphoric and undeniably stimulating, boneless as Caleb’s tongue laps desperately at your clit. His eyes shut, completely blissful - brows furrowed and moaning into you. He eats you out like it’s what he’s wanted to do his entire life and this is the last opportunity he’ll have to make good on his dreams.
The corrupted thought lights fire under your body anew. To think of Caleb lusting for you when he shouldn’t be. Like a forbidden fruit, ripe and sweet and nearly his—nearly within his grasp but always just barely slipping between his fingers. Your kind, sweet, considerate older brother thinking of ruining your mind and body. The idea he’d been torturing himself over it makes you sad but more than that it incites impossible longing. You want him to want you even more than he does now.
You can feel your body ache for it for the first time. Like a reply to his feelings, you think of how good it will feel when Caleb finally fucks you. Takes you, plucks you from vine and claims you all for himself.
But the act of him tasting you like this is more than good. The tender bundle of nerves is throbbing hard against the wet flick of his tongue - hips rutting to meet the perfect motion of his mouth. Something in your belly warms. Sweetens your senses and melts you from the inside like crystalized honey coming to liquid sugar over a flame. Your mind has melted away so utterly you can’t do anything but reach your fingers through his hair and chant his name.
“Caleb,” Your voice is unfamiliar to you. Worked up beyond any rational understanding.. “Caleb, Caleb, Caleb.”
Closer and closer, Caleb remains completely persistent in his efforts. Licks your clit and laps up all the arousal that spills - silky fluid like ambrosia to the unending heat of his mouth.
The knot tangled inside of your body unravels with an alarming speed. Makes your eyes go wide before you shut them again hard, your spine arching off the bed - every muscle in your body going unbearably tense as Caleb’s tongue toys with your clit. The filthy sound of licking making your ears ring.
Your body goes taut. It feels like a calamity. A pure rapture, like God himself is bringing pleasure. The kind that can only be derived from being your maker. Caleb has that in common with him, you think.
Your voice rings loud, hands fisted in his hair. You’re cumming hard, and fast, and there’s white behind your eye-lids. Smatterings of bright stars as you press them shut.
You cum so hard you can’t breathe. For a brief moment you’re weightless before it all comes crashing down in one swift go. Caleb eats you out through it relentlessly and your voice breaks on the syllables of his name - asking for mercy and receiving none. It feels so good it terrifies you. Your body is trembling, cunt spasming around his tongue as Caleb continues his assault.
You feel something wet rush out of you but Caleb is undeterred. He drinks it all down, every last drop until he’s satiated at least some of his endless, terrifying thirst.
When he pulls away from your pussy, his mouth is soaked in saliva and your cum. He looked the most satisfied you’ve ever seen him in your life. You’ve never been so scared of someone while being so unbearably aroused in the same breath.
“You taste so fucking good. Better than I dreamed in my entire life. Need to taste it again. I almost don’t want to do anything else.” He laughs breathlessly. “Almost.”
“Caleb,” You whimper. completely helpless as you try to catch your breath. “Fuck, ‘m still cumming,”
“Gonna make you cum over and over and over.” Caleb says cheery. “Promise,”
After cumming the first time, your body's sensitivity increases tenfold. Where you think it’ll cool off the glaring heat, melting you down to your core - all it does is turn it higher, make the feeling more tangible. Caleb’s offer to make you cum again excites you more than it scares you. You stare at him when he comes up for air.
“Kiss?”
“Even after all that?”
You nod sheepishly.
“Jeez. How cute can someone be?”
He comes up for a kiss, surprised when you lick into his mouth. You like tasting yourself on him, tongue dipping in for more. Caleb smiles at your enthusiasm, eyes lidded when he pulls away.
“Open your mouth,”
You give him a blank stare but do as he says. He puts a hand on your throat, tipping your head back before you feel something warm hit your tongue. Your eyes meet Caleb’s in surprise, instinctively swallowing the spit as it slides down your throat. Caleb meets you with an eager kiss, a gentle affection in his voice. “Good girl.”
Something washes over you hearing the praise. A soft moan into his mouth that leaves Caleb with raised brows. “You like hearin’ you’re my good girl, huh?”
Your face feels hot. “...Maybe,”
“Still so bad at lying, pipsqueak. Some things never change,”
The affection in his voice makes you forgive him. You know the tone, the sound—the lilting coo of your older brother's voice when he’s teasing you. It’s a way of speaking you could recognize in a heartbeat, the kind of voice that you’re anxious without. It shouldn’t soothe you in this context, shouldn’t make your pussy feel so achy when you know exactly how he’s addressing you.
Caleb kisses down the length of your body again. Neck to navel until he settles down between your thighs. You can’t mask your surprise. Caleb looks up at you from between your legs.
“What? You thought one time would be enough for me?”
Truthfully, yes. You’re a little startled at the thought he’s going to do it again. Make you feel all of that again. An anticipatory shiver makes you squirm but Caleb holds you in place. He presses another kiss to your clit. “One time doesn’t even come close to being enough.”
True to his word, Caleb starts the process all over again.
The second time around, he doesn’t let himself up to breathe. You’re locked in place as his increased familiarity with your body has him driving you over the edge even faster. Firm grip on your thighs, face buried between your legs - he laps at your clit for what feels like an endless amount of time. The pleasant warmth of his mouth paired with the focused, precise licks on your sweet spot make your body wrack with an impossible pleasure. It’s gentle enough to not be completely overstimluating - but his endurance, his persistence in doing it makes your experience a new high. A trembling mess of limbs and quiet, desperate pleas. Too much, too fast - toes curled as he hoists your legs over his shoulders to give him full access. Clit pulsating, stiff under his tongue with his nose bumping occasionally.
It feels so good you’re almost content to let him stay there. Let your mind wash away and succumb to the gluttony tying you to the bed. You cum twice again from the pressure - your body experiencing each one longer. Unable to withstand it, your hands clenched tight trying to level yourself with the feeling. A pleasure you’ve never experienced, the kind you doubt you’d be able to feel with someone else.
Caleb has always been like this in that respect. Your older brother who set the standard for every other man you ever came across. You were always using him as the gold standard, comparing every man you’ve ever met to him. Especially ones who claimed to like you. What would your brother do, how would he act, how would he treat you. He’d never tell you if you were too much. Never call you spoiled even when you act it, embody it so why settle for less? Why want for something else? For someone else?
It’s not surprising that Caleb touches you with the same level of care he’s always given you. Even less surprising that your body longs for it so desperately.
Caleb is your big brother after all. He takes care of you like this. No one else gets to have it. It makes you entitled, moody, and emotional just to think of him acting this way with someone who isn’t you.
Yearning and deep affection well up inside of you as these things cross your mind. Whisper to your longing as a deep, endless need overwhelms your mind. Your third orgasm steals the breath out of your lungs. A shockwave of emotions washes over you, as you tug at his hair. You let out a throaty whine.
“Caleb,” You whimper, pulling him off. “Caleb,”
Attuned to your emotions, Caleb is quick to pull away when he hears the audible distress. He pulls away from you, worried. “Shhh, hey. It’s okay, I’m here. Did you want to stop?”
You shake your head rapidly. Caleb gives you a small smile. “Just being a crybaby, then?”
The truth is, yes, just a little. You can’t voice this to Caleb so you instead give him some unknowable, unreadable look. He reads it almost instantly, shifting himself to hug you tight. Without any words at all, like he knows every single thought that passes through your mind. You wrap your arms around him and nudge your nose against his neck. He smells familiar.
“This what you wanted?”
You nod against him. Caleb’s heartbeat is steady in a way that brings you bone deep comfort.
“Be more pampered with me. More selfish, more demanding, more spoiled. Gege will do anything for you, so don’t hesitate.”
Hearing him refer to himself that way makes your stomach flip. You nuzzle yourself deeper into him, aroused by the sound of his laughter - playful but smug. You speak against his chest, words muffled.
“Want it inside right now,”
His breath hitches immediately. “Yeah?”
Another nod. You pull away to look him in the eyes when you ask. You know how to beg Caleb for something. You’ve been doing it your whole life, and right now is the most sincere you’ve ever been. Doe-eyed and full lips, all covetous and coy the word falls from your mouth with ease.
“Please,”
It has the exact impact on him you want it to have. Groaning, the outline of his cock twitching with a shameful lust, almost blanking out at the thought. He scrubs a hand over his face.
“You’re gonna kill me,”
“Please,” You repeat. Caleb kisses you as if to stop you from saying it again.
“I have to stretch you out on my fingers. It’ll hurt otherwise,” You open your mouth but Caleb cuts you off. “Don’t say it’s fine.”
“Caleb,” You whine and he laughs sympathetically.
“Be a good girl,” He placates, and it works on you just as maddeningly as your begging does on him. “Hm? For me?”
You melt. How embarrassing.”...Fine,”
He coos at you lovingly and you make no effort to deflect. You can’t. Your usual fire and wit, your banter is dissipated. Brain thoroughly undone from so many orgasms and the deep, aching want in your cunt - so apparent it makes you want to sob. A desperation to be full that you didn’t fathom existing in such a bodily way, something you thought only existed in porn.
Sensing how strung out you are, Caleb changes positions again. Instead of laying between your legs, he curls up besides you. He turns on his side, sliding an arm underneath and hugs your body close to him. Like he’s cradling you. Your legs slot together, one of yours between both of his - your other leg on the outside. Caleb hikes your thigh up - high enough to have your legs spread. The arm not supporting your back is supporting you, his forearm underneath your thigh.
At this angle, you’re face to face. Caleb can see you clearly as he cradles you in his arms. A large hand squeezes your ass before reaching around - teasing your clit with long fingers.
You feel…small like this. It’s the way you’re being held. The feeling of Caleb’s arm under your back, sliding up to hold your neck.
His fingers are exceptionally long. Slender and thin, with thick veins from wrist to pinky, more appearing less visibly to the rest. His palms are big- making up the bulk of their size. You feel yourself fixating on them in their movements.
On the calluses on them from handling guns, to the few thin scars from your childhood that have remained on his body into adulthood - now scarred. The way his fingers caress you, stroke your clit slowly. He kisses you again with a silent question like: you like this, right?
The eagerness of your tongue into his mouth answers it for him, a puppy keen on greeting it’s owner. Caleb laughs sweet into your mouth, encouraging you with all the kindness he has in him. His fingers slides through your slick folds impressed until he reaches low enough to be at your hole.
You’ve put your own fingers in there before. You think you can handle someone elses.
You find out fast that you can’t.
Caleb’s fingers are long. They’re thicker than yours, and longer than yours - and just the first one gives you a stretch you're not expecting. You shudder, a noisy breath. It’s an intrusion, a noticeable one. Caleb is careful, though. It’s easy for him to push the digit it when you’re so wet inside. A soft squelching noise makes your skin burn hot but Caleb goes on undisturbed.
His finger reaches deep. He fucks it in so slowly and so carefully but it feels like it never ends. All the down to the knuckle with just the one, you find yourself shuddering. Caleb is quiet, but you can hear the labor in his breaths. Feel his cock pressed against your inner thigh and twitch.
You moan his name instinctually - not for any particular reason and he says nothing. Just thrusts his finger in and out. How can something feel so different on the basis it’s someone else? You can’t hold still, rocking your hips against the sensation. Caleb groans unabashed.
“You want it so bad, huh?” He says, half-delirious and so pleasantly smug. You nod immediately.
“A little more. Hang in there, okay?”
Okay, you think. You’d do whatever it takes in the moment for Caleb to fuck you more quickly so you bite in the side of your cheek and try not beg stupidly each time he repeats the process. Another finger, longer than the last - stretching out, reaching deeper than anything has ever gone in your life, thrusting until your pussy takes it. It surprises you to know just how much you can take when you take three and you really feel it. How soft it is inside.
“Enough,” You whisper hoarsely.
Caleb doesn’t heed your request. Another finger goes in. It takes four for him to finally feel like it’s enough. Four fingers stroking from the inside out, an almost brutal precision curling against your g-spot. Not enough to cum, just enough to get so wet he can’t pull his fingers out without the filthiest noise you’ve ever had to follow it.
Completely out of your mind, you grab onto him weakly. Every ounce of shame and sense gone.
“Caleb,” Your voice is a pant. “Fuck me. Please, please—just do it,”
His own voice is no better than yours. “Gotta grab a condom from my—”
Your voice is vicious. Like you’re lashing out at him. “No. Fuck me.”
Caleb is quieted by it. Unsure of how to react. “Don’t be like that, baby.”
A reprimand. Soft as ever. Tears well up in your eyes immediately. “Please hurry,”
“We have to use a condom next time, okay?”
You hear nothing that comes out of his mouth except the words next time, and nod.
He gives in. You’re thankful he always does. You’re at your wits end and you don’t know if your body can handle any more waiting. Not getting what you want with Caleb unsettles and upsets you. Especially this strung out.
Caleb rolls onto your back again after he pulls his fingers out. You whine at the loss, unwittingly falling onto your back with both legs open. Presenting yourself in some impossibly obedient way that you can’t catch quick enough to stop, knees bent and up in the air. Waiting impatiently for Caleb to follow.
He follows suit moments later. His hand resting on your knees to spread your legs for him, taking in an eyeful of you as he stands on his own.
At the angle you’re laying and with nothing to distract your senses - you can see Caleb in full shape. Your body responds in kind for you, throbbing between your legs as you cut his figure. Tall and strong and broad, visible muscles and deltas. There are veins above the lowcut of his waistband, thick and tempting. A little lower than that - a patch of dark hair that leads to…
Your throat feels dry seeing Caleb’s cock standing to attention, just underneath his sweatpants. Eyes blinking rapidly trying to make sense of it. How it strains, a wet patch where it ends. Your breathing slows significantly. Your mouth watering, mind fizzling like a bottle of champagne. The ache in you urges deeper, hand going between your legs to soothe it. Or maybe welcome what's coming.
Caleb is breathless. Amusement undercut by lasciviousness. “Enjoying the view?”
You nod stupidly. Caleb grins a little. Makes a show of hooking his thumb into the top of his sweats and tugging all the way down. A thick trail of hair and the smooth, uncut outline of his cock has you gasping. When he tugs his pants all the way pas his thigh, you feel completely speechless.
He’s huge. Utterly. Too heavy to stand on its own, uncut, veiny. You blink in disbelief, like everything in the room has paused. It’s burly. Ridiculous. Thick enough to look like someone’s forearm. Pearls of pre-cum dribble of out of the tip, pulled back to be revealed. A ruddy reddish brown and angry. It’s darker then the rest, throbbing in a way that looks almost painful. It’s not the first time you’ve seen it but that was on accident in a bath before it was—
You stop your train of thought and just stare for an unknown amount of time.
He looks sheepish. The tips of his ears crimson red, all the way down to his chest. You make an unintelligible noise at the sudden change in attitude and also at everything else.
A sensible person would feel fear. Not your strong suit. You don’t know if it’s bravery or lust that inspires the reaction in your body. You just know you want him to fuck you so bad you might jump on him to get it.
“We don’t have to get in today, princess. We’ve got time to—”
“If you try to deter me one more time I’m going to run away from home,”
Caleb closes his mouth. He just mumbles something, but obliges you right after.
In what can only be considered a miracle, Caleb finally settles between your legs. His hands are on top of your thighs as he taps his tip against your clit, rubbing the pre-cum into the mess, The feeling of skin on skin elicits a gasp out of you both. His voice is shaky.
“Might not last,” He says hoarsely
“S’fine.” You put a hand between your legs and spread your pussy open for him a little wider. A move from porn that works on him instantly. He swears hard under his breath, not giving himself a chance to indulge in the feeling long.
Tip nudging through slick folds—Caleb finally, finally slides in.
Another synchronised moan, sweat breaks out onto your skin as you feel the thick tip of Caleb’s cock finally come through. You feel full. It’s completely different from four fingers, more invasive on your body than ever. .
It elicits a chain reaction. You watch Caleb above you, death grip on your hips trying to keep his composure and not fuck a hole through you. A horrible part of you almost wants him too, even knowing you absolutely wouldn’t be able to take it.
You’re trembling. It feels ridiculous but you’re so worked up that -
“Gonna c-cum,”
Caleb’s eyes blow wide. “From—fuck. That ain’t fair, you can’t,”
You buck your hips up and groan. He’s stretching you out so fucking good. One more time and it’ll hit that spot and it’ll feel so perfect, so right. You need it. Caleb shakes over you.
“Mercy,” He says, not sober enough to laugh. You’re going to lose your mind soon. Maybe you already have.
“I-s it all in?”
“Half,” Caleb grunts. You moan at the thought.
“Fuck me. Shit, please,” Your voice breaks high on the last syllable. Caleb looks like he wants to protest, wants to tell you to take it slow. But you can see it in his face that he’s reached his limits. Or maybe he reached them a long time ago and he’s already far gone.
But he listens. Your jaw goes slack and he pushes in. Inch by tortuous inch until you feel him bottom out. Feel his hips on the back of your thighs. His cock is throbbing inside of you, silken walls clinging onto the shape like you’re being pried open. It doesn’t take anything. He shifts as he bottoms out and your voice comes out in garbled, unintelligible noise.
“O-oh, ‘m cumming, cumming, ngh,” Your back arches up that leaves your mind blank. Completely white out, nothing but static as you cum again. Cum around the hard, intrusive length of your older brothers cock - bullying into your cervix until it’s wet and pliable and fuckable for him. Stretching out like it’s his to shape and mould. You can feel it in your body, each vein and each curve. Caleb lets out a whistle. Sharp and so fucking dark, it exicites you helplessly.
“She’s clingy just like you,” He says, fond but sneering.
Your head spins when it dawns on you on what he’s saying.
“Caleb—”
“I feel conflicted. Are you naturally this gifted?” He laughs, folding over you. Overtaken by something. Bending you under his weight. “Or is it because it’s mine that you’re making it so easy?”
“I was worried, you know,” He pulls out. The disappointment and gaping emptiness are brief. You hear the way your body refuses him pulling out. “Worried about how such a tight hole would fit something so big. Worried about your body, but you’re taking me in so fucking well. So perfect,”
You’re panting. It feels so good. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, limp under the weight of it as Caleb gives you a slow few thrusts to get you used to the size. But you’re so stretched and sensitive it just feels fucking incredible from the jump.
“Be a good girl and let me in.” You clench down on him. He grins to himself. “That’s it,”
He bottoms out again. Slams hips and fucks you in one swift, unforgiving motion. Groaning, he puts his hands up under your knees, driving his dick into you with animalistic need.
“Your pussy feels so fucking good. Too good. I’m never gonna be able to think about anything else. It’s not like I was before but you’re-” Out, back in. You haven’t made a single coherent sound. “You’re just too good. It’s warm and wet and still so tight, how are you still so tight, huh? It’s like you don’t want me to leave.”
For a brief moment, the two of you make eye contact. The vivid color of his eyes burns bright, pins you underneath the weight of his gaze. It goes straight to your stomach, making it flip in one smooth go.
“Tell me it’s okay,” Caleb says, barely restraining himself.
You look up at him confused. He suddenly looks like he’s at his wits end.
“Tell me it’s okay to fuck you hard,”
Like a woman possessed, you reach your arms around to squeeze his back and biceps. You put your mouth close to his ear as you bring him down towards you.
“Gege,” He twitches inside of you. “Fuck me as hard as you can,”
You underestimate just what effect it’ll have on you. On him. As quick as he possibly can, he pushes his hands under your knees and folds you into a mating press so deep it makes you scream. He’s pistoning you instantly, pounding into your pussy like he owns. Your nails dig into the muscles of his shoulders without realizing.
“I love you,” are the only words that come out of his mouth. It has you clenching down even harder. “Gege loves you more than anyone else in the world, okay? More than anyone.”
Just like that, Caleb fucks you. Given up on being gentle but still trying to make you feel good, trying to touch somewhere no one ever will again - he folds you up under the weight of his body and fucks you with relentless stamina. Your mind is gone. His cock is fat and heavy inside of you, splits your pussy open as the tip knocks against your g-spot with each thrust. His balls smack against your ass on each go.
It’s too much. For your brain, for your body, for your insides - getting permanently rearranged like he’s crushing your womb. A feeling like it should be painful, but it isn’t because he’s got you so good and open. This a reward for you both. For his patience. Every thought wrung from your head, impressed by your body’s own avarice for cock. Addicted to the feeling of getting strethed, gaped completely open. It feels like you’re cumming without a clear end.
Wanting Caleb to cum inside of you is a distant thought. Pleasant like a lullaby as your body yearns for it. Another sharp orgasm builds. It builds and builds and builds - and you know’re going to be fucked through it again.
But this time Caleb is close. Right alongside you. Sweating and panting in your ear as he pounds into your frenzied.
His voice comes out like a whine and it turns you on even more. You say it before he can think of pulling out, tightening your legs around his waist.
“Cum in me,”
Caleb grinds himself deeper. “Gonna cum in you, baby. I love you, I love you—fuck!”
Pure euphoria floods your entire nervous system as Caleb bottoms out one last time. His cum fills your pussy in thick, long spurts. It feels hot as it takes, makes you shiver with how it feels. Disappointed at the idea it’ll flood back out.
Caleb, still balls deep - continues suddenly. Where you think he’s gonna pull out, he doesn’t. Instead he fucks you again, this time more clear-headed as he rubs your clit - a hand between your bodies. His voice is shot.
“Sorry. Don’t wanna be selfish. One more nice and easy, then we’ll clean up?”
You have no room to protest. After all, Caleb is nothing but relentless when it comes to spoiling you. You let him fuck another orgasm out of you until you’ve got nothing left to give.
He collapses on top of you after your pussy milks what's left of him
You kiss when he does, sweaty and tired. You look at his blissed out face and kiss his nose with affection.
“I love you too, Gege.”
He pauses then laughs. Brightly. Hopelessly.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,”
__
You aren’t sure when exactly you pass out.
You remember lingering with Caleb in his bed before limping into the bathroom. And a bath too, if your memory serves you right. You must’ve fallen asleep in the tub with Caleb, the broad warmth of his chest lulling you right to sleep. You’ve got good endurance from being a hunter, but you’re tuckered out just thinking about earlier.
Also a little embarrassed.
You wake on the couch of the living room. Cleaned, changed, and tucked into with a blanket over you. There’s a scent and the quiet sizzle of a pan. Your limbs feel heavy as you pick your head up. It’s still dark out but it seems like morning.
You rub your eyes as you swing your legs over and place them on the floor.
Standing to your feet, you find slippers at the end of the couch and feel your heart swell ten sizes. You put them on before padding into the kitchen.
Caleb is at the stove like you thought he’d be. You flush seeing his back covered in scratches and a bite or two - none you remember leaving. You know your body is in the same state if not worse.
You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his middle, pressing your face against his broad back. Your voice is small, embarrassed. Everything feels brand-new.
“G’morning,”
Caleb turns the heat down and puts the spatula on the counter top, turning to face you. He looks down at you with a boyish grin. Unfairly handsome, making you pout.
“Morning, sleepyhead. Feel okay?”
You tuck your face into his chest and nod. “Just a little tired. I don’t hurt or anything.”
“That’s good, then,”
You make a little mm sound and stay there for a while. Caleb is content to hug you until you pull away.
“Caleb?”
“Hm?”
Your face feels warm. “...Kiss?”
He stops, then beams. Dips his head down to catch your lips in a kiss that feels romantic and practiced, but doesn’t make you feel strange in a bad way. You’ve never had a boyfriend, not a real one. Does everyone feel butterflies like this?
Maybe there’s something wrong with you. He pulls away and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“You’re less moody than you usually are when you wake up,” Caleb teases. “Good to know. An effective way to deal with your attitude is always welcome.”
You frown at him, feeling furious for more reason than embarrassment. It’s really unfair how flirtatious he is. “Shut up,”
Subconsciously, your hands are fisted as you cling to Caleb’s chest. With no shirt to hold onto you, your muscle memory finds it the most steady. They’re clenched hard from embarrassment and a flood of other feelings you need soothed.
Caleb grabs your hand and unfurls them for you. Strong, warm, big hands grasp yours in their palm and open them both softly - fingers interlocking until you’re no longer so tense. Just melted away.
“I’m right here,” He says. A wave of emotions passes over you.
You hold his hand and squeeze it. Once, twice - it has a steadiness the grip of fabric doesn’t.
You smile to yourself. Helplessly happy. Overwhelmed with pure, unrelenting love.
“Yeah,” You say, more to yourself than anyone else. “You are,”
DISCLAIMER: Mahaba ‘tong post, 10-15 mins. read more or less (kung di kasama yung mga articles and links sa baba). And this is politically charged (saka may mga corny jokes, sarcasm, at ilang pilit na pop-culture references). Kung di kayo nandito para sa ganon, then that’s alright, naiintindihan ko nang lubos. May choice kayo para lampasan 'to. Feel free to scroll away po. O kaya, skip to the TLDR at the end, although you’ll miss some of the points I stated, saka yung mga shared online articles. If you do intend to read, then thank you very much. I’ll also accept criticisms. Di tayo ipokrito. And I know, and understand, na magkakaiba ang political views natin. Pero we can disagree na po when it comes to the ethics and morals attached to our political views.
Ako, ayoko rin magmukhang keyboard warrior kasi bihira lang ako magpost, pero eto na nga. Nakakapanlumo lang kasi na marami akong kakilala na bilib sa Marcos apologists and loyalists. This post won’t sway hearts and minds, I know. Di ko pati to sinulat in an academic or formal manner (this is very informal, rambly, at puro rhetoric hahaha), but if the following arguments and counter-arguments will make you pause and think, pwede na rin yun.
So let’s address some of the common arguments, posts, and comments being thrown around:
“DI NYO NA KAMI MAUUTO” o “FAKE NEWS YANG GMA/ABSCBN/OTHER NEWS OUTLETS”
Sure ba kayo na di rin kayo nauuto o nagpapadala sa sabi-sabi ng Marcos loyalists and apologists? Aba, dapat eh napakasipag nyo din mag fact check at research. Aba, dapat reliable din sources nyo. Certified at official. Kung maduda kayo, then pakiusap, double check nyo rin mga sinasabi nila. Saka nung nag research ka ba, yung mga articles na pabor lang kay Marcos binasa mo? Articles na pinapaganda pangalan nya? Eh baka naman yun lang gusto mong basahin, kasi gusto mo tama ka (confirmation bias po tawag don). Basahin mo rin yung mga masasamang nangyari nun, para patas. Kasi patas po ang totoong research. Both sides, tinitignan. May cross-referencing at pag double-triple check ng sources; at sources ng sources. Yes ganun kalalim dapat. At oo, because of such principles sa research, alam din namin mga magagandang projects nun. Alam namin yung potensyal ng Pilipinas to rise as an economic tiger sa Asya, at the time. But at what cost? Tambak na utang? Makapal na missing persons lists? Mga nakaw na salapi? Mga sipsip at balimbing na cronies? Pano na? Pride na lang labanan, kahit parang tanga na?
“DI KA PA NAMAN BUHAY NON” o “DI MO NAMAN INABUTAN PANAHON NI MARCOS”
Really? Don’t let that be your best reasoning hahahaha. Di ka rin naman buhay nung panahon ng mga Kastila, pero alam natin na binaril si Rizal sa Bagumbayan. Ano, ang pilosopo ko ba? Ikaw rin naman, pag ganyan arguments mo. And what’s next? Fake news na rin ang Spanish occupation dati?
“SABI NG LOLO/LOLA KO” o “SABI NG MAGULANG KO”
I’m sure na naging mapayapa buhay nila. Kasi yan din sabi ng mga mas matatanda sakin. Surprise! Hindi naman kasi nila binatikos dalawang dekadang pamumuno na hindi na demokratiko eh. Saka baka yung iba sa kanila, wala sa urban centers, wala sa sentro ng gulo. At kung hindi man sa kanila nangyari yung gulo, it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen somewhere else. Eh pano yung mga murang bilihin kamo? The gov’t that time was well-funded, and the economy was booming on the surface. Dahil sa ano? Sa utang. Towards the end (ibig sabihin po DURING Marcos’ term pa rin) nagsimula nang mag crash ang ekonomiya. Na-expose na rin mga kinuha nilang pera.
“HISTORY IS WRITTEN BY THE VICTORS”
Okay, easy sa quotes Lt. General Shepherd (MW2 reference wink wink). Tama na pa-astig natin, okay? Half-truth lang yan. More aptly siguro, history is written DESPITE the victors. Marami pong unbiased saka objective na pagaaral sa usaping yan. Kaya nga alam natin na di rin naman malinis ang mga Aquino. Kaya alam natin na involved din pangalan nila sa massacres. Gusto mo ng sources no? Wow look at you, you fact-checking golden child. Keep it up, dapat ganyan lagi. Sana binasa o tinignan mo rin sources ng apologists. Sana dinobol check mo rin mga sinasabi ng may first hand at second hand accounts. And friends, never magiging victors yung mga biktima ng torture, rape, at extra-judicial killings. Oh, hindi sila biktima kasi nanggugulo sila?– I hear you say. Dear, yung pagbatikos lang sa gobyerno kinoconsider na nilang panggugulo. Maraming inosenteng nabiktima. And if you think na walang inosenteng nabibiktima– Are you serious? Naive ka ba?
“PAST IS PAST” o “MOVE ON NA”
Don’t use these words lightly. Wala sa iisang playing field ang feelings mo saka feelings ng isang collective. Magkaibang pahina yan. Hindi po parehas ang history ng isang taong broken hearted o na friendship over ang history ng mga biktima ng human rights violations saka political injustice (at marami po sila ah). Wag basta basta magbitaw ng past is past kapag may mga taong di na natagpuan ng pamilya nila, mula noong past, hanggang present. Unfair. Unfair sobra. Para bang okay lang na maraming namatay saka natorture, o kaya naman missing, kasi mayaman naman Pilipinas, maraming infrastructure projects, saka mura bilihin. Bad yun.
“HINDI NAMAN YUNG MISMONG PRESIDENTE ANG GUMAWA"
Oh so ganyan tayo? No accountability for the head of state? Commander-in-chief of the military? Sino ba nag empower sa mga high ranking officials? Officials, who in turn, nag execute ng directives? Suddenly, nakalimutan ba natin ang chain of command? Or naniniwala ba tayo na covert lahat ng yun, at di alam ng presidente? If so, pano naging magaling yun at effective ang pamumuno? Ganon ba ang best president? Nganga tayo sa ganyan mga kapatid.
"HINDI KASALANAN NG ANAK ANG KASALANAN NG TATAY” / “SINS OF THE FATHERS” argument
Totoo. Totoong totoo. Kaya dapat ina-acknowledge ng anak ang ginawa ng mga magulang nya to establish separation of beliefs, at di sana pinagtatanggol. Oh mga amigo amiga, double-triple check nyo yan ah. Mahusay naman kayo sa ganyan di ba? Smart kayo. Di kayo mahilig magpautot. *uto. Teka pati, running mate nya si Digong. Okay lang sayo yun? Ay baka okay lang sayo yun, kasi okay din si Digong para sayo. Figures. Paalala lang: Unfair sobra, para sa mga casualties ng current regime. At kung sasabihin mo na 'ganun talaga eh mga adik mga yun eh’, aba. Okay din pala talaga sayo na may namamatay outside the boundaries of law. Tanggap mo rin talaga nangyari during Martial Law– which is ironic, dahil hindi lawful kahit kailan ang rape, torture, at suppression. Wala kang pake eh (past is past). At pag wala kang pake, wag kang magpanggap na makatao. Lalong wag magpanggap na maka-Diyos.
“KAYA NGA NAG MARTIAL LAW DAHIL SA MGA TERORISTA EH”
Yes. Except hindi lang yung mga terorista ang naapektuhan. Kahit yung mga critics lang saka nagboses ng opinyon, nadali din. The collateral damage was too much FROM BOTH SIDES. Where to draw the line?– I hear you ask again. It’s one thing po na makita ang realidad ng law enforcement at war on terror/crime/drugs/beliefs etc. It’s another to look away from too many casualties. Not fighting or voicing or even THINKING against collateral damage IS too much.
“EH BAKIT DI INALIS ANG MARTIAL LAW SA BATAS?”
Dahil kaya po yang i-implement na hindi naaapakan ang human rights at judicial system. For example, despite the criticisms towards the current admin, yung implementation ng martial law during the attacks in Marawi, was arguably justified. Oh ayan ah patas tayo.
“EH FAKE NEWS NGA KASI MARAMI SA NANGYARI NUNG MARTIAL LAW NI MARCOS"
Luh eto na naman? Sabi nang dapat sure din kayo na di kayo napepeke ng mga binabasa saka pinapakinggan nyo eh. Dapat double check nyo rin 'real news’ nyo.
"EH PANO SABI NG LOLO/LOLA KO?"
Eh ano bang sabi ko kanina tungkol jan? Sige basahin mo ulit sa taas. Makinig ka pa rin sa ikukuwento nila, kasi we respect our elders. But we shouldn’t be beholden to everything they say (luh English na naman). May sarili po tayong isip at kakayanang magaral.
"DILAWAN KA”
Nakakakilabot ah. Ayoko rin sa kanila. Whew pareparehas lang silang may ginawang masama. I’m sure na gustong gusto mo rin na kastiguhin mga Dilawan. Tara sabay tayo. Kaya nga di umunlad bansa eh, lalo pang nalugmok. Involved nga din sila sa killings ng mga magsasaka saka protesters. And duh, as if wala ding namamatay o nawawala na union members and leaders sa current regime. Pero di yan excuse para pagbigyan mo na lang mga Marcos loyalists.
“AKTIBISTA KA"
My school mates and friends at the time can attest na hindi ako nagparticipate. Naniniwala din marami samin sa diversity ng ETHICAL methods and ETHICAL political views. Still, I must admit that my stance only changed drastically by the time na umupo si Duterte. Nagsisisi ako na tinamad ako so many times, and I wasn’t informed or mature enough to make a choice, to make a vote. Di ba nga, you can stay neutral until you’re not.
"EH ANONG GAGAWIN KO?”
Pagbanggain po ang mga nabasa o napanood na ebidensya at accounts from both sides (and 3rd party/international sources din), hanapin ang mga overlaps, then form an informed opinion. If somehow napaisip ka at nakaramdam ng konting hesitasyon sa pagboto kay BBM, wag ka munang magpanic at pagdudahan lahat ng bagay. Maghintay ka muna ng iba pang tatakbo. Wag yung bilib na bilib ka rin kaagad kay BBM. Maghihintay ako, at sana, maghintay ka rin. Wow romantic no hahahaha. De, sana may additional confirmed candidates pa.
“DI NA LANG AKO BOBOTO” o “WALA NA KONG PAKE"
Kasi evil is evil, lesser, greater, middling? Hindi ka si Geralt (wink wink sa mga nakakuha ng reference). Bumoto ka pa rin if you can, please, and if it’s safe (taking into account this pandemic). It matters. Evidently, nag matter yung mga boto towards Digong. Nanalo sya nun eh. So by the same token, may halaga yung boto mo, even if it’s counted against sa boto ng iba. It will be one less vote laban sa ayaw mong maupo. It may seem like there’s only few against many, pero pag mas maraming taong informed, mas dumadami yung.. yung few.. so magiging many sila. And of course, mas maraming may informed votes saka educated na desisyon, more chances of winning.
"NADADAYA ANG BOTOHAN"
True. Very true. Pero mas mahirap dayain pag mas maraming legit na boto. Pahirapan nyo man lang sila, kahit pano. At pag nahirapan sila, mas madali silang papalpak. Mas madali silang magiging subjects to scrutiny.
I’m sure na meron pang mga arguments na di kasama sa mga nabanggit, pero pwede nyong kunin yung sagot sa ibang points na na-raise ko. If you’ve ever used any of those arguments above before, and somehow, medyo napaisip kayo after reading the counter-arguments (which is the best I could hope for), then take some time to rethink your decision.
Hindi kailangang maging matalino para magkaron ng informed opinion. Dapat masipag lang manaliksik. Otherwise, madali ka ring mapaniwala, which is the very thing that you accuse others of. At kung sa tingin mo, napagisipan mo na nang maigi, then sige. Buo na desisyon mo eh. Baka well-informed ka na. Pero kung medyo napatigil o napaisip ka sa mga counter-arguments kanina, then walang masamang magisip pa ng konti.
—–Additional articles po, past this point—–
For infinitely less rambly, more reliable, data-driven works, eto po mga pwede nyong basahin. Remember, don’t judge too hastily na fake yang mga yan. A lot of the articles have been around for years, for people to read. Also, remember that these are from people with experience, expertise, and credibility, more so than a lot of us, including our own lolos and lolas (bless them, still).
Galing po itong mga to sa internet– for goodness’ sake. Mag search lang tayo with intent to look for proper journalism and academic studies. From Brittanica yung unang dalawa, no less– which is highly accessible, very digestible, concise, and still manages to present the good and bad (non-biased representation po). Easy to read na po yang mga yan ah:
The Marcos and early post-Marcos era (scroll down po kung gusto nyo magsimula agad sa Marcos era)
Martial law
And hindi mawawala ang mga nagsasabi na golden age ang Marcos regime. They saw those times with rose-colored glasses (idiomatic expression yern). Pero you’ll notice something. Very anecdotal. Very similar sa mga nagkukwento sating matatanda. Medyo tricky maghanap ng ganito, sa totoo lang, from an online article na galing sa news outlet.
30 Years After Revolution, Some Filipinos Yearn for ‘Golden Age’ of Marcos
But this. This is easy to find. An apologist fb page. Non-academic and very fanatical, no surprise there, pero isisingit ko so you can check.
WE Love Ferdinand Marcos
Whew there are some interesting videos and posts here, primarily dahil sa mga footage and photos na meron sila. Watch or check those footages and photos ah, then ibangga nyo po sa mga alam natin from history. See how eloquent and compelling Ferdinand Marcos was, and you’ll see kung ano ang isa sa mga kinabibiliban ng loyalists and apologists. There’s value there, para makita mo kung anong hook nya sa mga tagasunod nya.
You want more? Okay sige. Search mo sa Google yung Department of National Defense’s web page for Ferdinand Marcos’ biography, for some more heroic representation. You’ll notice na nalimitahan sa iilang sentences yung Martial Law saka change of legislation.
But it gets more bloody and not so heroic, with the other pages and articles ahead. It’s true, mahirap nang maging non-biased when confronted with cruelty and injustice, but KEEP IN MIND, the numbers and statements na mababasa nyo from these links came from the security forces na appointed dati. Official numbers and statements po ang raw data nila. So there.
Let’s start off with a view on the economy. Opposite to the fanatical page earlier, here’s an academic fb page post, para po alam nating numbers ang tinitignan nila, at hindi nostalgia at conspiracy lang. You can check the primary source na meron din sila for the compilation.
Econcepts: The Economy under the Marcos Era
For a slightly more detailed breakdown of the declaration of Martial law, with links or hypertexts in each section of the article:
Declaration of Martial Law
For the more sinister side na hindi kailanman bibigyan ng transparency ng mga security forces at the time– here are some more readings:
‘San Juanico Bridge,’ other tortures detailed
3,257: Fact checking the Marcos killings, 1975-1985
Pano kamo mga massacres during the Aquino admin? Di po makacancel out nyan nangyari nung Martial Law, pero sige, para makita na rin natin na hindi natigil ang gulo. And ohoho, they’re just as bad.
The Mendiola Massacre: Decades on, Philippine Land Reform Movement Remains Mired in Blood
Hacienda Luisita Timeline
Ayan online na po yang mga yan ah. No need to download anything as well. Kulang na kulang pa yan though, dahil this post is waaaay too long na po para mag accommodate ng ibang in-depth articles, let alone studies and published PDFs, and books! Physical and digital books! Pero di ba, may internet na pipol. There are loads of historical fiction as well, if you want to look at it from a literary angle, and even music and movies! Meron at meron po pag naghanap. Conspiracy theories nga nahahanap eh. But for my friends or colleagues na marami pong additional articles, readings, downloadables, books and media suggestions– please po, do share if you’re inclined to comment. Malaking tulong po yun. Maraming salamat!
————————————————
TLDR; Ang bottomline po, wag basta basta susuporta sa political dynasties ah? Yung bagay lang na umuulit sila, nagpapasa-pasa ng posisyon sa angkan, dapat mapaisip na po tayo, oki? Di po dapat family business yan. If you have to make a decision to support someone from said families, make sure lang po na at least, nagresearch po tayo. Lesser evil and all that.
DISCLAIMER: Mahaba 'tong post, 10-15 mins. read more or less (kung di kasama yung mga articles and links sa baba). And this is politically charged (saka may mga corny jokes, sarcasm, at ilang pilit na pop-culture references). Kung di kayo nandito para sa ganon, then that's alright, naiintindihan ko nang lubos. May choice kayo para lampasan 'to. Feel free to scroll away po. O kaya, skip to the TLDR at the end, although you'll miss some of the points I stated, saka yung mga shared online articles. If you do intend to read, then thank you very much. I'll also accept criticisms. Di tayo ipokrito. And I know, and understand, na magkakaiba ang political views natin. Pero we can disagree na po when it comes to the ethics and morals attached to our political views.
Ako, ayoko rin magmukhang keyboard warrior kasi bihira lang ako magpost, pero eto na nga. Nakakapanlumo lang kasi na marami akong kakilala na bilib sa Marcos apologists and loyalists. This post won't sway hearts and minds, I know. Di ko pati to sinulat in an academic or formal manner (this is very informal, rambly, at puro rhetoric hahaha), but if the following arguments and counter-arguments will make you pause and think, pwede na rin yun.
So let's address some of the common arguments, posts, and comments being thrown around:
"DI NYO NA KAMI MAUUTO" o "FAKE NEWS YANG GMA/ABSCBN/OTHER NEWS OUTLETS"
Sure ba kayo na di rin kayo nauuto o nagpapadala sa sabi-sabi ng Marcos loyalists and apologists? Aba, dapat eh napakasipag nyo din mag fact check at research. Aba, dapat reliable din sources nyo. Certified at official. Kung maduda kayo, then pakiusap, double check nyo rin mga sinasabi nila. Saka nung nag research ka ba, yung mga articles na pabor lang kay Marcos binasa mo? Articles na pinapaganda pangalan nya? Eh baka naman yun lang gusto mong basahin, kasi gusto mo tama ka (confirmation bias po tawag don). Basahin mo rin yung mga masasamang nangyari nun, para patas. Kasi patas po ang totoong research. Both sides, tinitignan. May cross-referencing at pag double-triple check ng sources; at sources ng sources. Yes ganun kalalim dapat. At oo, because of such principles sa research, alam din namin mga magagandang projects nun. Alam namin yung potensyal ng Pilipinas to rise as an economic tiger sa Asya, at the time. But at what cost? Tambak na utang? Makapal na missing persons lists? Mga nakaw na salapi? Mga sipsip at balimbing na cronies? Pano na? Pride na lang labanan, kahit parang tanga na?
"DI KA PA NAMAN BUHAY NON" o "DI MO NAMAN INABUTAN PANAHON NI MARCOS"
Really? Don't let that be your best reasoning hahahaha. Di ka rin naman buhay nung panahon ng mga Kastila, pero alam natin na binaril si Rizal sa Bagumbayan. Ano, ang pilosopo ko ba? Ikaw rin naman, pag ganyan arguments mo. And what's next? Fake news na rin ang Spanish occupation dati?
"SABI NG LOLO/LOLA KO" o "SABI NG MAGULANG KO"
I'm sure na naging mapayapa buhay nila. Kasi yan din sabi ng mga mas matatanda sakin. Surprise! Hindi naman kasi nila binatikos dalawang dekadang pamumuno na hindi na demokratiko eh. Saka baka yung iba sa kanila, wala sa urban centers, wala sa sentro ng gulo. At kung hindi man sa kanila nangyari yung gulo, it doesn't mean it didn't happen somewhere else. Eh pano yung mga murang bilihin kamo? The gov't that time was well-funded, and the economy was booming on the surface. Dahil sa ano? Sa utang. Towards the end (ibig sabihin po DURING Marcos' term pa rin) nagsimula nang mag crash ang ekonomiya. Na-expose na rin mga kinuha nilang pera.
"HISTORY IS WRITTEN BY THE VICTORS"
Okay, easy sa quotes Lt. General Shepherd (MW2 reference wink wink). Tama na pa-astig natin, okay? Half-truth lang yan. More aptly siguro, history is written DESPITE the victors. Marami pong unbiased saka objective na pagaaral sa usaping yan. Kaya nga alam natin na di rin naman malinis ang mga Aquino. Kaya alam natin na involved din pangalan nila sa massacres. Gusto mo ng sources no? Wow look at you, you fact-checking golden child. Keep it up, dapat ganyan lagi. Sana binasa o tinignan mo rin sources ng apologists. Sana dinobol check mo rin mga sinasabi ng may first hand at second hand accounts. And friends, never magiging victors yung mga biktima ng torture, rape, at extra-judicial killings. Oh, hindi sila biktima kasi nanggugulo sila?-- I hear you say. Dear, yung pagbatikos lang sa gobyerno kinoconsider na nilang panggugulo. Maraming inosenteng nabiktima. And if you think na walang inosenteng nabibiktima-- Are you serious? Naive ka ba?
"PAST IS PAST" o "MOVE ON NA"
Don't use these words lightly. Wala sa iisang playing field ang feelings mo saka feelings ng isang collective. Magkaibang pahina yan. Hindi po parehas ang history ng isang taong broken hearted o na friendship over ang history ng mga biktima ng human rights violations saka political injustice (at marami po sila ah). Wag basta basta magbitaw ng past is past kapag may mga taong di na natagpuan ng pamilya nila, mula noong past, hanggang present. Unfair. Unfair sobra. Para bang okay lang na maraming namatay saka natorture, o kaya naman missing, kasi mayaman naman Pilipinas, maraming infrastructure projects, saka mura bilihin. Bad yun.
"HINDI NAMAN YUNG MISMONG PRESIDENTE ANG GUMAWA"
Oh so ganyan tayo? No accountability for the head of state? Commander-in-chief of the military? Sino ba nag empower sa mga high ranking officials? Officials, who in turn, nag execute ng directives? Suddenly, nakalimutan ba natin ang chain of command? Or naniniwala ba tayo na covert lahat ng yun, at di alam ng presidente? If so, pano naging magaling yun at effective ang pamumuno? Ganon ba ang best president? Nganga tayo sa ganyan mga kapatid.
"HINDI KASALANAN NG ANAK ANG KASALANAN NG TATAY" / "SINS OF THE FATHERS" argument
Totoo. Totoong totoo. Kaya dapat ina-acknowledge ng anak ang ginawa ng mga magulang nya to establish separation of beliefs, at di sana pinagtatanggol. Oh mga amigo amiga, double-triple check nyo yan ah. Mahusay naman kayo sa ganyan di ba? Smart kayo. Di kayo mahilig magpautot. *uto. Teka pati, running mate nya si Digong. Okay lang sayo yun? Ay baka okay lang sayo yun, kasi okay din si Digong para sayo. Figures. Paalala lang: Unfair sobra, para sa mga casualties ng current regime. At kung sasabihin mo na 'ganun talaga eh mga adik mga yun eh', aba. Okay din pala talaga sayo na may namamatay outside the boundaries of law. Tanggap mo rin talaga nangyari during Martial Law-- which is ironic, dahil hindi lawful kahit kailan ang rape, torture, at suppression. Wala kang pake eh (past is past). At pag wala kang pake, wag kang magpanggap na makatao. Lalong wag magpanggap na maka-Diyos.
"KAYA NGA NAG MARTIAL LAW DAHIL SA MGA TERORISTA EH"
Yes. Except hindi lang yung mga terorista ang naapektuhan. Kahit yung mga critics lang saka nagboses ng opinyon, nadali din. The collateral damage was too much FROM BOTH SIDES. Where to draw the line?-- I hear you ask again. It's one thing po na makita ang realidad ng law enforcement at war on terror/crime/drugs/beliefs etc. It's another to look away from too many casualties. Not fighting or voicing or even THINKING against collateral damage IS too much.
"EH BAKIT DI INALIS ANG MARTIAL LAW SA BATAS?"
Dahil kaya po yang i-implement na hindi naaapakan ang human rights at judicial system. For example, despite the criticisms towards the current admin, yung implementation ng martial law during the attacks in Marawi, was arguably justified. Oh ayan ah patas tayo.
"EH FAKE NEWS NGA KASI MARAMI SA NANGYARI NUNG MARTIAL LAW NI MARCOS"
Luh eto na naman? Sabi nang dapat sure din kayo na di kayo napepeke ng mga binabasa saka pinapakinggan nyo eh. Dapat double check nyo rin 'real news' nyo.
"EH PANO SABI NG LOLO/LOLA KO?"
Eh ano bang sabi ko kanina tungkol jan? Sige basahin mo ulit sa taas. Makinig ka pa rin sa ikukuwento nila, kasi we respect our elders. But we shouldn't be beholden to everything they say (luh English na naman). May sarili po tayong isip at kakayanang magaral.
"DILAWAN KA"
Nakakakilabot ah. Ayoko rin sa kanila. Whew pareparehas lang silang may ginawang masama. I'm sure na gustong gusto mo rin na kastiguhin mga Dilawan. Tara sabay tayo. Kaya nga di umunlad bansa eh, lalo pang nalugmok. Involved nga din sila sa killings ng mga magsasaka saka protesters. And duh, as if wala ding namamatay o nawawala na union members and leaders sa current regime. Pero di yan excuse para pagbigyan mo na lang mga Marcos loyalists.
"AKTIBISTA KA"
My school mates and friends at the time can attest na hindi ako nagparticipate. Naniniwala din marami samin sa diversity ng ETHICAL methods and ETHICAL political views. Still, I must admit that my stance only changed drastically by the time na umupo si Duterte. Nagsisisi ako na tinamad ako so many times, and I wasn't informed or mature enough to make a choice, to make a vote. Di ba nga, you can stay neutral until you're not.
"EH ANONG GAGAWIN KO?"
Pagbanggain po ang mga nabasa o napanood na ebidensya at accounts from both sides (and 3rd party/international sources din), hanapin ang mga overlaps, then form an informed opinion. If somehow napaisip ka at nakaramdam ng konting hesitasyon sa pagboto kay BBM, wag ka munang magpanic at pagdudahan lahat ng bagay. Maghintay ka muna ng iba pang tatakbo. Wag yung bilib na bilib ka rin kaagad kay BBM. Maghihintay ako, at sana, maghintay ka rin. Wow romantic no hahahaha. De, sana may additional confirmed candidates pa.
"DI NA LANG AKO BOBOTO" o "WALA NA KONG PAKE"
Kasi evil is evil, lesser, greater, middling? Hindi ka si Geralt (wink wink sa mga nakakuha ng reference). Bumoto ka pa rin if you can, please, and if it's safe (taking into account this pandemic). It matters. Evidently, nag matter yung mga boto towards Digong. Nanalo sya nun eh. So by the same token, may halaga yung boto mo, even if it's counted against sa boto ng iba. It will be one less vote laban sa ayaw mong maupo. It may seem like there's only few against many, pero pag mas maraming taong informed, mas dumadami yung.. yung few.. so magiging many sila. And of course, mas maraming may informed votes saka educated na desisyon, more chances of winning.
"NADADAYA ANG BOTOHAN"
True. Very true. Pero mas mahirap dayain pag mas maraming legit na boto. Pahirapan nyo man lang sila, kahit pano. At pag nahirapan sila, mas madali silang papalpak. Mas madali silang magiging subjects to scrutiny.
I'm sure na meron pang mga arguments na di kasama sa mga nabanggit, pero pwede nyong kunin yung sagot sa ibang points na na-raise ko. If you've ever used any of those arguments above before, and somehow, medyo napaisip kayo after reading the counter-arguments (which is the best I could hope for), then take some time to rethink your decision.
Hindi kailangang maging matalino para magkaron ng informed opinion. Dapat masipag lang manaliksik. Otherwise, madali ka ring mapaniwala, which is the very thing that you accuse others of. At kung sa tingin mo, napagisipan mo na nang maigi, then sige. Buo na desisyon mo eh. Baka well-informed ka na. Pero kung medyo napatigil o napaisip ka sa mga counter-arguments kanina, then walang masamang magisip pa ng konti.
-----Additional articles po, past this point-----
For infinitely less rambly, more reliable, data-driven works, eto po mga pwede nyong basahin. Remember, don't judge too hastily na fake yang mga yan. A lot of the articles have been around for years, for people to read. Also, remember that these are from people with experience, expertise, and credibility, more so than a lot of us, including our own lolos and lolas (bless them, still).
Galing po itong mga to sa internet-- for goodness' sake. Mag search lang tayo with intent to look for proper journalism and academic studies. From Brittanica yung unang dalawa, no less-- which is highly accessible, very digestible, concise, and still manages to present the good and bad (non-biased representation po). Easy to read na po yang mga yan ah:
The Marcos and early post-Marcos era (scroll down po kung gusto nyo magsimula agad sa Marcos era)
Martial law
And hindi mawawala ang mga nagsasabi na golden age ang Marcos regime. They saw those times with rose-colored glasses (idiomatic expression yern). Pero you'll notice something. Very anecdotal. Very similar sa mga nagkukwento sating matatanda. Medyo tricky maghanap ng ganito, sa totoo lang, from an online article na galing sa news outlet.
30 Years After Revolution, Some Filipinos Yearn for ‘Golden Age’ of Marcos
But this. This is easy to find. An apologist fb page. Non-academic and very fanatical, no surprise there, pero isisingit ko so you can check.
WE Love Ferdinand Marcos
Whew there are some interesting videos and posts here, primarily dahil sa mga footage and photos na meron sila. Watch or check those footages and photos ah, then ibangga nyo po sa mga alam natin from history. See how eloquent and compelling Ferdinand Marcos was, and you'll see kung ano ang isa sa mga kinabibiliban ng loyalists and apologists. There's value there, para makita mo kung anong hook nya sa mga tagasunod nya.
You want more? Okay sige. Search mo sa Google yung Department of National Defense's web page for Ferdinand Marcos' biography, for some more heroic representation. You'll notice na nalimitahan sa iilang sentences yung Martial Law saka change of legislation.
But it gets more bloody and not so heroic, with the other pages and articles ahead. It's true, mahirap nang maging non-biased when confronted with cruelty and injustice, but KEEP IN MIND, the numbers and statements na mababasa nyo from these links came from the security forces na appointed dati. Official numbers and statements po ang raw data nila. So there.
Let's start off with a view on the economy. Opposite to the fanatical page earlier, here's an academic fb page post, para po alam nating numbers ang tinitignan nila, at hindi nostalgia at conspiracy lang. You can check the primary source na meron din sila for the compilation.
Econcepts: The Economy under the Marcos Era
For a slightly more detailed breakdown of the declaration of Martial law, with links or hypertexts in each section of the article:
Declaration of Martial Law
For the more sinister side na hindi kailanman bibigyan ng transparency ng mga security forces at the time-- here are some more readings:
‘San Juanico Bridge,’ other tortures detailed
3,257: Fact checking the Marcos killings, 1975-1985
Pano kamo mga massacres during the Aquino admin? Di po makacancel out nyan nangyari nung Martial Law, pero sige, para makita na rin natin na hindi natigil ang gulo. And ohoho, they're just as bad.
The Mendiola Massacre: Decades on, Philippine Land Reform Movement Remains Mired in Blood
Hacienda Luisita Timeline
Ayan online na po yang mga yan ah. No need to download anything as well. Kulang na kulang pa yan though, dahil this post is waaaay too long na po para mag accommodate ng ibang in-depth articles, let alone studies and published PDFs, and books! Physical and digital books! Pero di ba, may internet na pipol. There are loads of historical fiction as well, if you want to look at it from a literary angle, and even music and movies! Meron at meron po pag naghanap. Conspiracy theories nga nahahanap eh. But for my friends or colleagues na marami pong additional articles, readings, downloadables, books and media suggestions-- please po, do share if you're inclined to comment. Malaking tulong po yun. Maraming salamat!
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TLDR; Ang bottomline po, wag basta basta susuporta sa political dynasties ah? Yung bagay lang na umuulit sila, nagpapasa-pasa ng posisyon sa angkan, dapat mapaisip na po tayo, oki? Di po dapat family business yan. If you have to make a decision to support someone from said families, make sure lang po na at least, nagresearch po tayo. Lesser evil and all that.
GENRE: smut, fantasy, supernatural
PAIRING: Minhyuk x Succubus!Reader
WARNING: virgin!Minhyuk, oral (receiving) edging, first time
SUMMARY: He was at his wits end, with his anatomy midterm around the corner and his mind wandering at the library, he receives some unlikely help from Y/N, the hot, young library aide at his university.
WORD COUNT: 3.5k
Introduction | Black | Cobalt | {Violet} | Crimson | Ivory | Rose | Epilogue
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Ano na? Pati online selling need nang tax. Hehehehehehe. I mean ok, let's say na oo nasa batas talaga yon? Ayoko naman magreact lang basta basta diba? But need ibacktrack?
Sa panahon kasi ngayon parang ang hirap nang sumunod or maniwala sa batas kasi ang selective ng pinapanigan ng batas ngayon hahahaha
Ang feeling tuloy is... they're milking what they can milk pa. Pera pera pa din. Kahit pagkatapos ng 500M nanamang approved na utang, pandagdag sa 4Ps daw. EWAN.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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