Kunipoka

boy nextdoor!Caleb who’s been there since you guys were children. Sitting under the big oak tree in your front yard, his grandma bringing cold, perfectly cut fruit for the two of you to snack on. Musing young Caleb’s wild black hair with a smile before heading back to finish preparing dinner.

boy nextdoor!Caleb who became your best friend. Same elementary, middle, and high school. The two of you were inseparable. You showed up to his basketball games in corny, homemade shirts, and over-the-top school spirited attire. He always made a big deal of asking you to the school dance. The bestest of friends.

boy nextdoor!Caleb who gets a hefty scholarship to go play basketball on the other side of the country. He seems hesitant, since you had already committed to a university only a few hours from home.

You tell him this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. To attend such a prestigious school on a full ride, to experience a different community, to be free! He would be a fool to not accept it. It’s with tears in his soft, sweet eyes that he finally agrees, and officially commits.

boy nextdoor!Caleb who spends his last few months at home just about glued to your hip. If people thought you guys were inseparable before, they would think you guys are dating now.

boy nextdoor!Caleb drives you two down to the beach in his beat up, 2006 Toyota Tacoma the night before he’s set to leave. You sit in the bed of his truck, splitting an order of carne asada fries, watching the sunset. It’s quiet. You barely spoke when he walked to your door to pick you up. And now you sit here in silence, both of you clearly distraught over the major life change that was happening too quickly.

“My flight is at 9, by the way.” Caleb breaks the silence, solemnly. His eyes still cast on the warm pinks and reds that dance over the blue horizon. You wipe your mouth on a napkin before peering over at him.

The Caleb sitting next to you had changed so much over the 14 years you had known him. The golden hues of the sunset helped to blur some old, teenage acne scars. His jaw was well defined and sharp, definitely a result of years of corrective orthodontic work. You’ll never forget how corny and irritating he was when he finally got his braces off. Gloating about how he was about to be the most good-looking guy in the school, and the girls were just gonna be swarming all over him.

A wave of jealousy washed over you. But you naively passed it off as irritation from his new found ego. Because why would you be jealous of your friend getting attention from other girls?

“Surprised you would book a flight that early, I rarely see you out of bed before 10.” You chuckle, trying to make light of the aggressively glum conversation. He finally looks over at you, and you can tell he’s holding back tears.

Not because his eyes are watering, or his lip is quivering. To a stranger, there’s nothing about his expression that gives away how he’s feeling. But after years of reading Caleb like a book, you know his giveaways. The shifty eyes, the biting of his inner cheek, the near imperceptible bouncing of his leg.

He pinches his lips together and looks down at his hands in his lap.

“I’m gonna miss you, Caleb.”

“I know, Pipsqueak.” But he just can’t bring himself to say it back.

Of course he’s going to miss you. He’s probably going miss you more than you miss him! It’s him who’s leaving after all. He just… can’t acknowledge that without it turning into a big sappy mess. And he knows that when it turns into that big sappy mess, of him being honest with you, he’s not getting on that airplane tomorrow.

And so he keeps his feelings balled up tight. Changes the subject to ask about how you’re feeling for university. Let’s you scold him for eating more than his half of the carne asada fries, even if he did pay for them. Gives you his zip-up when the sun finally disappears below the horizon, and the ocean breeze gets too chilly.

boy nextdoor!Caleb who fights for one last night of normalcy with you, because he knows your relationship will never be this comforting, this intimate, this homey, ever again.

boy nextdoor! Caleb who lies to you about when his flight takes off.

boy nextdoor!Caleb who couldn’t even bear to think about you waving goodbye at airport curb. He knew you would have insisted on taking him to the airport yourself. He knew that one tear running down your cheek would have had him cancelling his flight.

So he’d rather just not deal. So he’d rather tell you his flight was taking off an hour after it really was.

When you wake up to see him off, you already feel nauseous. Trudging through your front lawn to his front door, expecting a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Caleb to answer. But it’s Josephine.

“Don’t tell me he slept through his alarm.” You kid, oblivious to the truth. Josephine looks at you with furrowed brows and a confused expression.

“Dear, Caleb’s uber came and got him over an hour ago.”

…

What?

You let out a nervous, forced laugh. You poke your head into the house, hoping to see Caleb standing around the corner playing one more cruel prank on you.

The living room is empty.

“Very funny, Josephine. Did Caleb put you up to this?” Your voice is shaking. Tears are threatening to spill. Your hands are trembling in the pockets of the zip-up he left you last night. The one you slept in after he walked you back to your doorstep and hugged you just a little tighter than he normally does.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. He told me you had your reasons for not seeing him to the airport…”

You can see her lips moving, but your ears are ringing so loudly you can’t understand a word she’s saying. Your feet are carrying you through the house before you know it, pushing right past the small, frail woman. Bounding up the stairs, throwing the door to Caleb’s room open, to find it near bare.

His closet is significantly emptier than it was last week. His posters are gone. His bed sheets are the neatest you’ve ever seen them. His favorite model planes are missing from their spots on the shelves.

He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s gone and he couldn’t even say goodbye.

So many emotions run through your head. Devastation, confusion, betrayal, rage.

How could he put you in this situation? How could he be so selfish?

You’re crying before you can even register it. Your best friend. The one who used to let you eat all the red sour patch kids from every bag he got. The one who carried you a half mile on his back from the skatepark because you thought you could drop into the bowl with almost no skateboarding experience. His signature was the first, and the biggest one on your cast.

He was your rock, from when you were 6 years old and missing your front teeth, to when you were 17 and sneaking around the neighborhood with a plastic bottle full of shitty tequila.

You’d think those memories meant something. That your relationship was important enough to at least say goodbye.

boy nextdoor!Caleb who broke your heart without even being in a relationship.

Five months later

It’s your winter break. You made it through your first quarter of college. You had taken your last final yesterday, and immediately drove home for the 3 week break.

You’re helping your parents carry in groceries from the car. Christmas isn’t for another week, but of course your Mom still bought way too much food from the store. Can never be over prepared, as she says.

Standing in front of the trunk of your moms car, you look to your right to see Caleb’s truck still parked in Josephine’s driveway. It’s exactly where it was all those months ago when he just about vanished from the face of the earth. It’s covered in pollen and bird poops. The bed of the truck blanketed in a layer of dead leaves. It’s the dirtiest you’ve ever seen it. The Caleb you know would never let his beloved truck get this filthy.

Or maybe he would. After basically ghosting you all those months ago, you’re questioning if you ever knew him at all.

The last bag of groceries gets taken in, and you’re handing stuff to your mom as she reorganizes the fridge to make space.

“Josephine said Caleb gets in tomorrow afternoon.” She mentions, almost too nonchalantly. Your mom knows what happened. She was the one who held you when you came back to the house in tears after finding out he was gone.

You huff, trying to appear somewhat unphased.

“I’m sure Josephine is excited to see him.” You say, coolly. You know your Mom isn’t falling for the unbothered act. It’s more so for your own sanity. Digging into the crunchy grapes you carried through the door less than 10 minutes ago.

She arranges the last item on the shelf, shutting the refrigerator door and turning to face you.

“Honey.” She lets out a long sigh. “I invited them over for dinner.”

You immediately stop chewing the food in your mouth and meet her gaze.

“Huh?”

“Josephine is coming over for dinner tomorrow. And I told her to bring Caleb.”

A beat of silence, before nearly spitting out your food. It takes effort to finish chewing and swallow.

“Mom, are you being serious?” You try not to raise your voice at your mother, but you’re obviously upset. “I don’t want that selfish dick in my house!”

“One, language! And two, you don’t have to speak to him, but you will sit down and have dinner like a respectful young adult!” Your Mom points a finger towards the dining room table in emphasis.

“I know you’re still hurting, baby. But Josephine told me Caleb is having a hard time being so far away. He’s obviously hurting too.” She walks around the kitchen island to meet you. “You don’t have to talk to him tomorrow, but just show up for him. I think it would mean a lot.” Her gaze is soft as she cups your cheek for a second.

“He didn’t even want me to show up at the airport. Why should I show up for him now?” You spit, fighting back tears as you storm up to your room.

The next day, you’re just in a shit mood. You decide to take a walk around noon, hoping to enjoy the calmness of your childhood neighborhood. Dissociation gets the best of you, and you don’t get back home for another two hours.

When you get back home, you can’t help but notice the shining navy blue paint of Caleb’s truck. No pollen or bird poop to be found.

His car is clean.

Meaning he’s inside the house.

Part of you wants to stomp through the beautiful hydrangeas in his front yard, break that front door down, and give him a piece of your mind.

The other part of you doesn’t want him to know how bad you’ve been hurting.

How you’ve secretly missed his company more than anyone’s in the world.

How you compare him to all of your new college friends. How they never come close to understanding you like he did.

Fuck this.

You can’t let him know he’s under your skin. You have to show up to the dinner tonight. He will see how well you are doing. And when he comes running back to you, it will be your turn to break his heart.

Your Mother always does a little too much when she’s hosting. She definitely made way too much food for a casual dinner. Roast chicken, potatoes, brussels sprouts, the whole nine yards.

You come down from your room after spending hours getting ready, only to pull off the “I’m not even trying” look. Just enough makeup to make you look alive. Your hair is blowdried, but not styled. Picked out a very simple outfit, too. Just some lowrise bootcut jeans, and a navy blue long sleeve.

“Jesus, I thought we were only feeding Josephine and Caleb. Not the whole dang neighborhood.” You quip to your Mother as you enter the kitchen, seeing all the completed dishes waiting on the counter.

“It’s better to have too much food than not enough, sweetheart. We can always send them home with leftovers.” She responds as she does the finishing touches on a few dishes.

A knock on the front door sounds through the house.

Your Mom looks at you expectantly. But you make your way to the sink to start tucking dishes into the dishwasher.

She lets out a deep sigh as she wipes her hands down on a towel before making her way to the front door.

You hear her greet sweet, elderly Josephine. You hadn’t seen her since Thanksgiving break. She had also come over for dinner, since Caleb hadn’t come home. Their voices draw closer, but suddenly the dirty measuring cups and pots in the sink are much more interesting.

They enter the kitchen, and you still only hear two voices, your mom and Josephine. Did Caleb not show up? Was he too embarrassed to see you? You scoff to yourself. Not surprising, he couldn’t deal with you face-to-face once again. Shutting the water off and drying your hands, you think you’ve won.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

Because there he is, standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

Eyes staring directly at you.

It’s irritating how he looks like he’s doing great. His shoulders are a little broader, his posture a little straighter. Did he get taller?

Your Dad interrupts your inner monologue by giving Caleb a firm handshake. Since when has Caleb been taller than your Dad? You can’t pull your eyes away from their interaction, Caleb being nothing but polite, as usual.

Josephine is what saves you from your trance.

“Hello, dear. You look wonderful!” She coos sweetly, pulling you into a gentle hug. “The food looks great, Caleb and I are grateful to be invited into your home.” She smiles up at you.

“Please, it was Moms idea to invite you guys over. She prepared all the food. No thanks to me.” You sheepishly rub the back of your neck, suddenly feeling Caleb’s undivided attention on you from the other side of the room. A quick glance in his direction confirms your suspicion.

Your Dad is saying something to him, but his gaze flicks over to you every couple seconds.

“Well, however things panned out, we are happy to be here. Caleb was looking forward to this.”

It takes everything in you not to laugh.

Looking forward to this? And he can’t even grow the fucking balls to say hello? Just stare at you from across the room? You want to rip his head off.

You can’t even respond to Josephine, just a sweet smile, nod of your head, and back to scrubbing dishes.

It’s ridiculous. This whole situation is so laughable. What kind of fucked up, pussy ass bitch would—

“Scrub any harder and I think you might burn a hole through that cast iron.”

You freeze. Too afraid to turn around, but you can feel him not far behind you. Close enough to use a soft voice to get your attention.

Gently setting the pan and scrub brush into the sink, you stare at the suds.

“Hi, Pipsqueak.”

You want to slap him. You want to hold him tight and never let go. You want to scream in his face until your lungs give out. You want to stare at him until his features are burned into your retinas.

You opt for the safe option. The one where you simply ignore him.

When you turn around, you don’t even look at him, just shoulder past him. You try to shoulder check him, except he’s got about 8 inches of height on you, and another 60 pounds, at least. So much for the intimidation tactic.

He lets you pass. Doesn’t try to stop you, to say anything to you. He just watches as you walk, as unbothered as physically possible, out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom.

You lock the door behind you and turn to meet your reflection. Your face is red, and a little sweaty. Trembling hands find their way to the cold water knob. Not to splash water on your face, but to just hold them there. To let them turn a little numb. To give you something to focus on besides the boy in your kitchen.

When you can’t feel your fingers, you turn the water off and dry your hands. Running your fingers through your hair to tame some of the anxiety frizz. Straightening out your clothes, and putting on your best, fake smile in the mirror. Show time.

Your Dad and Caleb are seated at the table when you enter the kitchen, probably rambling about basketball or whatever. Your mother and Josephine are setting the prepared dishes on the table. Josephine takes the seat next to Caleb, and your mother takes the seat next to your father at the head. You sit next to your mother.

Mindless chatter fills the room as everyone serves themselves. Your father asking Caleb about life as a college athlete, balancing training with his academics, whatever. Your dad always seemed to like Caleb. Even after he abandoned you all those months ago.

“An athlete and an engineering student. How impressive!” Your dad clasps a big hand on Caleb’s shoulder, to which he sheepishly grins and shakes his head.

“It’s all at the expense of my social life.” He chuckles, starting to slice into a hunk of chicken.

“Surely you have some free time. These first few months are supposed to be the most fun.” Your Mom chimes in as she takes a sip of her wine.

“The big parties aren’t really my thing anyways. Just me, the gym, and my textbooks.” Lies. Caleb was literally part of student council in high school. He loved planning big events and wearing ridiculous, school-spirited costumes. Caleb was, without a doubt, the more sociable one between the two of you.

His eyes find you staring a hole through your plate. His comment feels very pointed. As if he trying to make sure you know there is absolutely nothing, or no one, in his life right now. Like he’s almost punishing himself.

“I’m sure you’ll find your people, Caleb.” Your Mother reassures him.

The rest of the meal is cordial. Your Dad acts like he missed Caleb more than anyone else in the world, asking him question after question. Josephine kept diverting the conversation to talk about you, what you were studying, how the new independence was treating you, how you were faring making new friends.

As suspected, there was way too much food left over. Caleb and your Dad stood by the front door while your Mom and Josephine packed some tupperwares to take back. You collected the plates and silverware from the table to wash.

“Thank you for helping, dear.” Josephine said with a kind smile, a soft, wrinkled hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Don’t be too in your head, now. I know you’re a kind girl.” And with that, she turned to make her way towards the front door.

Your parents bid them both goodbye, Caleb throwing one last look over his shoulder to where you stand in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Hoping to finally meet your gaze, yet your arms are crossed and the living room rug is the most interesting thing in the world, apparently.

Later that evening, when your parents had turned in for the night, you sat on your living room couch with your cheesy ass romantasy novel. The warm lighting from the Christmas tree creating the coziest ambiance. Grimy sweatshorts from your high school days, holey summer camp tshirt with the neckline cut out.

The zip-up he wrapped around you in the bed of his truck, the night before he disappeared. Smells like your laundry detergent now.

A quiet knock rings against the front door.

There’s only one person who would have the audacity to knock at a time like this. Unless it’s a murderer. Might be a better option at this point, though.

Your bare feet pad over to the door to look through the peephole. Before you can even look, Caleb’s voice comes through the door.

“I know you’re standing at the door, Pips.”

Did this guy have echolocation? X-ray vision?

“Can you just open it?”

Through the peephole, Caleb stands on your porch in a university-branded sweatshirt, black sweatpants, and his own house slippers. He looks directly at the peephole, and your breath hitches.

He sucks in a deep breath before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Or don’t. Just… hear me out. Please.”

You think about unlocking the door. Think about how pathetic he probably feels standing on your porch at close to midnight. Think about how he’s probably freezing. He was always more of a warm weather guy, where you preferred the cold.

You don’t open the door. But you lean your forehead against it.

“I didn’t want to leave you. I was so afraid that college was going to turn us both into different people. I didn’t want to think about you not needing me in your life anymore.”

You swear you hear a sniffle.

“I was selfish. I was a coward. I thought running away would preserve what we have. Or had. That if I didn’t acknowledge it, everything would be just as I left it. I could come back and we’d still be… friends.”

You lift your head off the door and glance at the locked handle.

“I don’t want to be your friend, pips.”

Your hand is frozen on the knob.

“I don’t want things to be like when I left. I don’t want to keep thinking about what things would be like if we were… more than friends.”

You think you might start crying. You know Caleb already is.

“I just… I’ve known something was wrong. Getting that scholarship was just… I don’t know. It made me think of a life without you. And I hated it. I hated the idea of not having you with me. Not being able to look at your face, or hear your laugh, or smell your favorite perfume.”

That was almost a year ago. Just how long has he been feeling this way?

You begin to silently cry on the other side of the door.

“I kicked myself everyday for leaving. I couldn’t think about anything besides you. I wanted to know what you were doing. What classes you were taking. What you ate for breakfast.” Caleb takes a deep breath in.

“I wanted to know if you were talking to anyone. The idea of another man taking my place… I didn’t even know how to describe how I felt.”

Another sniffle comes through the door.

“That’s when I realized I couldn’t be your best friend anymore. That just running away and hoping everything would stay the same was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

Your hand trembles on the cold, locked door handle.

“If you don’t wanna forgive me, that’s okay. I just can’t go on any longer with this tearing me apart from the inside out. I’d rather watch you live your life happily without me, than constantly think about the ‘what-ifs.’”

There’s a minute of silence. A strong exhale from Caleb’s side of the door.

You’ve never unlocked a door faster.

Caleb had taken about 5 steps down your lawn before the door got just about blown clean off the hinges. His head whips around, revealing his wet cheeks and red, puffy eyes.

There you are, standing in the doorway, just as red-eyed and puffy as him.

All he can do is stare at you, sniffling. You throw your hands out to your sides.

“You’re letting all the heat out.”

boy nextdoor!Caleb who nearly knocks the wind out of from how hard he collides with you, two big, strong arms wrapping around you. His face finds the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” All he can do is say it over and over again into your hair, wetting it from his tears. You smack a hand on his back.

“You’re… suffocat—ing… me.” You say with a strained voice. He loosens his grip, hands sliding out from around you to rest on your waist. He pulls his face out of your neck to stand to his full height.

You think this is the most handsome he’s ever looked. Yearning, soft eyes swollen from crying. Thick, furrowed eyebrows. Lips pinched together.

Your hands reach up to thumb away his tears. He all but melts into your touch.

“Do that stupid shit again and I will actually fucking kill you.” You say sweetly. He laughs through his tears.

“Never again.” He smiles. As you both stand in your living room, trying to be as quiet as possible, laughing through sniffles and sobs, he soaks in all your beautiful features. The ones he hasn’t been able to admire this close up since that night he left.

Your sweet, kind eyes. Rounded cheeks. Straight nose. Your bright, beaming smile. Your lips.

Your perfectly pink lips. Perfectly full. Perfectly… kissable.

His gaze flicks from your lips to your face, leaning in an imperceptible distance.

“I…” he swallows. “Can I kiss you, please?”

Caleb’s hands tremble on your waist. Your eyes move to his lips as you gently nod.

boy nextdoor!Caleb who kisses you like it’s the easiest, most natural thing in his life.

He’s so soft. Your lips move and glide together like they’ve done this a million times. A warm, callused hands finds its way to the back of your neck as your smaller ones find purchase on his solid, broad chest.

His tongue runs against the seam of your lips, asking for permission. You invite him in, letting him explore your mouth. His hands snake down your body to cup the backs of your thighs.

“Jump.” He murmurs into your mouth. Which you do, so obediently.

Caleb hoists you up, your legs wrapping around his trim waist, arms hugging his neck. He begins to walk towards the couch.

You hear a door open upstairs. The two of you freeze.

“Honey?” Of course it’s your Dad. The floorboards creak as his footsteps draw closer to the staircase.

Caleb just about throws you onto the couch before quickly assessing the living room for the best hiding spot. He decides to simply duck behind where you’re sitting.

Just as he attempts to hide all 6’2 of him behind the couch, your Dads footsteps come into view. He comes about halfway down the stairs before sleepily surveying the room.

“Everything okay down here?” He rubs an eye.

“Yep! Just… trying to fall asleep!” You chirp, probably a bit too eagerly considering it’s past midnight. He scans the room.

“Ok, honey… just— just keep the TV volume low, alright?” He turns to go back up the stairs. Did he think you were watching TV?

“Will do, Dad. Goodnight!” Again with the over enthusiastic response. Your Dad throws a hand over his shoulder before wishing you goodnight, as well.

Caleb is smiling up at you where he lays on the floor. He wiggles his eyebrows. You bend down to smack him.

“Don’t give me that look, you prick.” You whisper-yell at him. He’s trying to block your smacks, keeping his giggles to a low. “You could have offered to tuck him into bed and he would have said yes, kiss-ass.”

“He would not.” Caleb grabs your wrists and pulls you down on top of him, preventing you from thudding against the hard wood floor. You squirm and continue to try and slap him, but he’s got your wrists pinned.

“Would to!” You’re straddling him, still whisper-yelling in his face. “Oh, Caleb, you’re an athlete and an engineering major. You’re so smart, please be my son!” You say in a mocking voice. “You guys were having total bromance the entire time we were eating, and you know I’m right.”

Caleb playfully rolls his eyes, placing your hands on either side of his head before settling his own on your hips.

“Just say you’re jealous and move on.” He smirks, looking so boyish from his spot under you.

“Jealous?! Jealous of what? Of you or my freaking Dad?” You arch an eyebrow, tilting your head down at him.

“Jealous of all the attention I was giving your Dad. Obviously.” His fingers lightly pinch your sides in emphasis.

“I’ll have you know I was the furthest thing from jealous. I was one comment away from smashing a plate over your head the entire night.”

He throws his head back in playful, silent laughter.

“Yeah? And where’s that hostility now, hmm?” He teases, earning him a flick to the forehead.

“Ouch, Pip—!” He groans, rather loudly. You clamp a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

“Shut the fuck up, Caleb! Do you want my Dad to come back down here?” You scold him, albeit with a smile on your face. His eyes crinkle, and you can feel his grin under your palm.

“Maybe he’d be nicer to me than you’re being right now.” He says from under your hand. You roll your eyes and move to get off him, but a strong arm wraps around your torso and flips you both. Caleb’s large, muscular frame looms over you. The warm, incandescent bulbs from the Christmas tree softening his features.

His intense gaze makes you shyly look away.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s embarrassing…” you murmur. A warm hand cups your cheek to turn your face back towards him, before tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“You’re so pretty.” His compliment makes your cheeks turn red. “You’ve always been the prettiest.” His hand on the side of your face is forcing you to hold his gaze. Uncomfortable under his attention and praise, you can do nothing but squirm.

“Caleb, stop…” An attempt to turn away is ruined by his thumb dragging over your chin, using his forefinger to pinch your jaw. A quiet exclamation of your name leaves his lips.

“Let me tell you how beautiful you are.”

You feel flustered and uneasy.

“I’ve never tried to be beautiful for you. You’ve never seen my beautiful side.”

“You don’t have to try for me. You’ve been beautiful ever since I met you. I thought you were beautiful when we were 9 and you had sand and strawberry ice cream all over your face after the beach. The same way I thought you were beautiful when we were 16 and I had to watch that water polo scumbag pick you up for your first date ever.” You can’t help but laugh. “Never liked that guy, by the way.” He adds, so matter-of-factly.

“You are the worst at holding grudges, you know that?” You reach up to pinch his nose. He just smiles and laughs. You love his smile. It’s just so… Caleb. You love his laugh.

You love Caleb.

You’ve always loved Caleb. You thought you loved him as a friend. Someone you could depend on to have your back through thick and thin. A shoulder to cry on. A set of ears to listen to your stupid, unimportant rants.

Five months apart changed your perspective. Caleb was more than that friend. Caleb was someone you wanted to grow old with. He was the person you wanted to come home to every night. The person you wanted to fold laundry and do your taxes with. Caleb was the person you saw yourself starting a family with.

Like he could hear your thoughts, he broke the moment of quiet with a whisper of your name.

“I love you. I love you so much.” He leans in to say against your lips, before kissing you so softly.

boy nextdoor!Caleb who kisses you exactly how you need to be kissed. His lips are soft, moving dominantly against yours to guide you. One forearm braced beside your head, the other hand gently squeezing your waist.

“I don’t wanna do this on my living room floor.” You mutter against his mouth. Caleb begins to trail kisses across your jaw, your neck, under your ear.

“Tell me where you wanna go, baby. I’ll take you anywhere right now.” Another wet kiss to your neck. He definitely just left a hickey. A small whine escapes you.

“My room,” is all you say before Caleb is effortlessly scooping you up off the floor. All four limbs wrapped around him like a koala as he ascends the stairs as quickly and silently as possible. No direction necessary, Caleb knows your house like the back of his hand.

He pushes his back against the door to open it, then his hand leaves your thigh for a split second to silently close and lock it behind him. Very carefully, he sets you onto your childhood, twin-sized mattress and climbs on top of you.

Caleb’s hips bracket yours as he wraps your legs around his waist. He wastes no time crashing his lips against yours. As his hips press against your core, you begin to feel his hardening length behind the layers of clothing. He feels big. Too big. A string of saliva connects your lips when he pulls away.

“You know, I used to have wet dreams about this exact scenario. About me getting to take care of you in this very bed.” His ears are pink at the admission, but he embraces it. Another hickey on your neck, right below your ear before he whispers.

“Dreamt about you screaming my name, too.” His tongue finds your earlobe. “But we will have to save that for another time. Need you to be quiet for me tonight.” The sensual voice in your ear makes you shudder.

Big, warm hands unzip the hoodie and dip under your shirt to trace the bottom of your ribs.

“Tell me to stop.” He whispers against your lips.

“Keep going.” You say, pulling him into the kiss with a hand carded through his hair. Caleb’s hands travel further up your ribcage to caress your breasts. One squeeze has you both moaning into each other’s mouths.

“Wanna see them.” He mutters against you while greedy hands bunch that ratty, summer camp tshirt up and over your perky tits. You feel him get a little harder when your chest is exposed to him.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You snort. He pinches a nipple in retaliation.

“Brat.” He teases before diving straight into sucking a tit into his mouth.

The sight before you is… indescribable. Caleb, the same guy who used to knock on your door and ask if your mom if you could come out to ride bikes, has his face buried in your tits. Grabbing, squeezing, pinching, drooling all over them. His hips are starting to slowly grind against yours, rubbing his fat erection on your heated core.

All in your childhood bed. There’s a trophy from an 8u recreational soccer team on a shelf next to a one-eyed, stuffed bunny. The literal shirt you’re wearing is from a summer camp you both went to when you were 14. Your parents are 15 feet down the hall.

Teeth gently clamp on your nipple and tug, instantly knocking the thoughts from your brain. He kisses, sucks, and bites his way back up your neck to your lips.

“Take this off.” You grab at the hem of his sweatshirt, before he swiftly pulls it over his head in one smooth move. You take the break to completely shed your zip-up and tshirt.

Has Caleb always been this fucking ripped?

Strong, rounded delts bracket a broad, solid chest. One, two, three… is that an 8-pack? His abs look mandoline-level sharp. A light trail of hair from his navel chases a few veins down his v-line, to below his waistband.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He quips in a mocking tone. You roll your eyes as he collapses back over you again, smiling into the kiss.

Exploratory hands roam every inch of each other’s bodies. His muscular, firm pecs press against your perky, cute tits. Warm, callused palms run up and down your waist, down to your hips, where they trace around to the front of your sweatshorts. Caleb lightly teases a finger underneath the drawstring.

“Is this okay?” His eyes find yours, full of want and hunger.

“Yes.” And his fingers immediately dip into your sweatshorts. He freezes for a moment.

“No panties?” He chuckles.

“It’s bad for your pH to wear panties to bed.” You retort, cheeky grin spanning your face. “And I didn’t know you were gonna show up and cry on my porch!”

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?” His boyish smile making his eyes crinkle.

“Nope.” You taunt, popping the “p” in emphasis.

“Cruel, cruel woman.” His smile beams as he presses his face in your neck, hand disappearing under your waistband.

Greedy kisses explore your neck as his long, dexterous fingers trace up and down your wet slit. Using his middle and ring fingers to draw featherlight circles on your clit. Caleb lifts his head to watch your expressions.

Your mouth slightly agape as quiet pants escape you. Your eyebrows pinches together in concentration, trying to be as silent as possible.

“You gotta tell me if I’m doing good, I— I’ve never done this before.” He hesitates for a second before coming clean with you.

“Yes, just keep going.” You gasp as he increases the pressure on the little bundle of nerves. His two fingers move down to circle your drooling hole, his thumb taking their place on your clit.

“Christ, you’re fucking soaked.” Caleb braces his free forearm beside your head. When his fingers finally push into your pussy, he can’t help but smile at your cute little gasps. “Feels good?” Your eyes squeeze shut as you nod mindlessly.

The hand that’s not scissoring your insides comes to pinch your cheeks together.

“Nuh-uh, Pips. Use your words like a big girl.” Your eyes open to see his smug expression, and it makes you blush even harder.

“I want to fuck you, Caleb.” He tries not to laugh too loud at your muffled request.

“I know, baby. Just a little longer.” He teases as his fingers continue to pump in and out of your squelching pussy.

The pressure from his thumb on your clit is dizzying. His two thick fingers massaging your walls are driving you wild. You want more.

Your small hand trails down his torso to try and dig into his sweatpants. With one hand, he grabs both of your wrists and pins them above his head.

“If you touch my dick right now, I am going to cum in my pants.” He states, not a hint of embarrassment in his voice. You whine at his rejection.

“Caaleeebb…” you whimper, that knot building in your tummy.

“Just cum for me. Cum for me one time and then I can fuck you. Okay?” His thumb moves and little faster, fingers driving a little deeper. “Let go, baby. Just let go.” He’s muttering against the side of your face, his own hips starting to buck erratically again.

Your nails dig into the sheets as your orgasm barrels towards you. All it takes is another soft kiss from Caleb, and the knot snaps. He swallows your moans with a bruising kiss, fingers still working you. When the pressure begins to dull, your hips instinctually buck away from his hand, clit too sensitive.

Caleb smiles ear to ear, obviously very proud of his handiwork. You pant and cover your face, embarrassment taking over. He pulls your hands away from your face, lacing your fingers together.

“Ready for more?” He grins as kiss after kiss is pressed to your cheeks, your jaw, your forehead.

“Mm, yeah…” You moan into a kiss, mind still a little fuzzy from your orgasm. Small, shaky hands start to push at his sweatpants, until Caleb gets the hint and pulls his sweats and boxers down in one go.

boy nextdoor!Caleb who is so achingly hard in your bed right now. Pretty, pink-tipped cock that is so fucking fat, it’s struggling to stand upright. Slightly curved upwards, veins pulsing as they dance upwards from base to tip. A dark, well groomed patch of hair dusting his base, sprawling out from the happy trail leading from his belly button.

You barely have time to admire before he’s placing a quick kiss to your navel and pulling your shorts off, too. Heavy thighs push against yours, coercing your legs to go up and over his elbows. A few thrusts have his leaking dick sliding through your wet folds.

“Wait.” He pauses, sitting back on his haunches. “Do you have a condom?” You blink up at him, the question totally pulling you from the moment.

“Why the fuck would I have condoms in my childhood bedroom?” You retort, moving to sit back on your elbows.

“I don’t fucking know what you were doing in high school!”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You say that like you weren’t attached to my fucking hip!” You’re whispering-yelling in each other’s faces now.

“You could have hooked up with that water polo prick for all I know!” Caleb is smiling. When is he not smiling?

“Don’t mention another guy when you’re about to fuck me! And I didn’t even kiss him, by the way!”

“I’m not going to fuck you if we can’t find a fucking condom! Don’t you remember anything from sex ed?”

“I’m on the pill, you moron!” He blinks down at you before running a hand through his hair.

“You could have lead with that!”

“Can you just fucking put it in?”

“Well, are you clean?”

“I’ve never fucking had sex with anyone!”

…

“Really?” He doesn’t mean it insultingly, like he doesn’t believe you. It’s more so said like he’s surprised.

“Yes, really. Can you stop interrogating me and just fuck me already?” He smirks to himself. “Stop smiling like that!”

“Like what?” He braces himself over you again and begins stroking his dick.

“Like… I don’t know! All smug and shit.” Your voice wavers when you feel his cock notch at your wet hole.

“You wanted me to be the one to fuck you for the first time, huh?” A kiss to your neck, before sucking another hickey. A small gasp escapes you when his tip breaches your winking hole, already squeezing him so tight. Caleb lets out a quiet groan. “Wanted your Caleb to take your little virginity.”

His fat cock slowly pushes in, your walls clamping down like a vice. A hand reaches down to rub your clit.

“Come on, let me in.” Moving to sit upright as one hand continues to work your little bundle of nerves, while the other pushes a leg up towards your chest. Pupils dilated as he watches his length disappear into you.

The stimulation on your clit has your hole softening for him, letting him slide all the way to the base. He moves both of your legs to rest on his elbows, in awe of the sight of you two connected.

“Holy shit.” He groans, throwing his head back.

“Caleb, fucking move.” You urge him, trying to move your hips for any kind of friction.

“Just… give me a second.” Thick cock splitting you open, your chest heaves in time with his. After a few moments, his hands come to brace on either side of you, legs still hooked over his elbows. His hips begin to gently thrust into you, cock coming out only an inch or two before sliding back in.

“Harder, Caleb.” You moan, pulling him into a kiss with a hand on his nape. He can’t help but moan in your open mouth.

“You’re gonna squeeze my dick off.” He grumbles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. With each thrust, he pulls out just a little more, until he’s sliding out nearly to his tip before pushing back in. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“Better than your dreams?” You grin, still panting with each thrust. Caleb lets out a breathy laugh before pressing his face into your neck.

“Shut up.” He emphasizes with a particularly hard thrust, earning a loud moan from you. Your hand comes to cover your mouth, terrified of being heard. “Next time, I wanna hear you scream my name so loud.”

Next time. Your heart warms at the idea of there being a “next time.”

“Caaleeeb,” you whine.

“Yeah, Pips?”

Pips. The nickname he gave you when you were 7 at the summer county fair and you weren’t tall enough to ride any of the rides.

The contrast of the nostalgic name being used as a pet name in a time like this. When you’re both 19 and he’s rearranging your guts. It’s jarring.

“I love you, Caleb.”

His jaw drops open as an unfiltered groan escapes. You throw a hand over his mouth to muffle it.

“I love you so much, Caleb.” His eyes are so soft and full of yearning, mouth still covered as he drops his forehead onto your shoulder. “Never wanna leave you again…”

Thrusts turning animalistic and desperate, Caleb bites down on your shoulder to stifle his noises.

“I wanna cum together, baby. I’m so close.” You whisper in his ear, feeling him nod against your collarbone. His hips stutter once, twice, three times before you feel his warmth flood your pussy. The feeling of him filling you up so generously pushes you into your second orgasm of the night. You bite down on the back of your hand to keep quiet.

Caleb slumps on top of you, panting hard. His hair is damp with sweat, face totally red and glowy. You run a nail down his spine, and he shivers as he pulls out and rolls to your side.

“Fucking hell.” His gaze is fixed on the ceiling as he comes down from his high. “Does this mean you forgive me?” He laughs, turning his head to look at you. You shove his chest.

“I think you still owe me big time, crybaby.” A playful grin pulling your smile from ear to ear. He turns to his side, propping his head up on his elbow.

“I thought girls were into the emotional guy!” He bickers, smoothing a hand over your waist, trying not to openly ogle the mess between your legs.

“I’m kidding,” you push his hair out of his face. “Your big show was very sweet.” The hand on your waist pulls you into his embrace. “What would you have done if I didn’t open the door?” He rubs his chin in exaggerated thought.

“To be honest, that wasn’t even an option in my head. I probably would have slept on your porch until someone found me.”

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“You love it.” He smiles and pulls you into a soft kiss. After a short-lived makeout, Caleb moves to stand up.

“What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t clean up my girl?” He snorts, pulling his boxers back on. “Be right back.” And with a wink, he’s silently sliding out of your bedroom.

His girl. Caleb’s girl. You turn over and bury your face in the pillow to keep from squealing.

boy nextdoor!Caleb returns a few minutes later with a glass of ice water and a damp cloth. A sheepish, embarrassed grin on his face.

“I don’t think your Dad ever went back to sleep. I just ran into him in the kitchen.”

General education classes had to be the stupidest things ever. You were an electrical engineering major. And yet, three times a week, you were waking up at 7am to listen to some tenured, jackass professor drone about U.S. history. By the lack of enthusiasm in his voice, you think he gives less of a shit than you do.

It wasn’t even a hard class! Two timed essay midterms and a take-home essay final. Optional homework assignments. But, of course, attendance made up 15% of your grade. Just your luck picking the GE with mandatory attendance.

Most of the class never showed up. You were shocked on the day of the first midterm to see the lecture hall actually full. Typical lectures had no more than 30 people in them, yet it seemed about 200 showed up for the exam. Not that it bothered you, their poor performance just meant a more generous curve for you.

The Monday after the midterm, you saw some unfamiliar faces. Probably just people who bombed the test and realized that 15% attendance mark is just free points.

Nevertheless, you took your preferred spot. Middle row, right side aisle seat. So the little fold-out desk was on your writing side, and you didn’t have to climb over a dozen sets of legs to get up.

Engulfed in differential equation problem sets (because what kind of over-achiever freak takes notes during a GE?), a deep clear of the throat sounds above you.

“Is anyone sitting there?” The masculine tone pulls you from your concentration, neck craning to take in the sight before you.

Jesus fuck.

If a german shepard took on a human form, it’d be the guy currently staring down at you. Was he pulled straight off of Baywatch? He’s the beach personified.

Annoyingly wide shoulders dramatize a slender waist, obvious even under a sweatshirt. Questionably short athletic shorts reveal long, tan, muscular legs. Is that Santal 33 you smell?

He’s so effortlessly good looking, it’s irritating. Like, you think he didn’t even take the time to brush his hair this morning, and yet it’s perfectly tousled. His features are still a little puffy with sleep, but it just emphasizes the dreamy, downturned eyes, the high cheekbones, the full lips…

Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you?

Snapping out of your trance, you find it in you to respond.

“Nope, all yours.” Your attention immediately goes back to the work on your iPad, trying not to let his woody sandalwood scent distract you too much.

“Sweet.” He drawls, stepping over your feet to get to the seat next you. He’s so stupidly broad, his delts brush yours as he gets comfortable.

God, guys like him were just the worst. Women had to put effort into their appearance. If you showed up to lecture with no makeup on, someone would probably ask if you were sick. Meanwhile, this prick could show up in a trash bag and probably start a campus-wide trend.

You were getting yourself worked up over nothing. Apple Pencil pressing a little too hard on the screen of your iPad. A scowl unconsciously etching itself into your face. This guy was certainly one of the idiots that flunked the midterm! Surely you would have noticed him before. He probably was a business major, with a minor in beer, partying, and gaslighting.

“Is that for DQ’s?” A whisper over your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts.

No way he just said that. There is absolutely no shot in hell this walking Ken doll knows what an ODE is.

“Yeah, you know someone in the class?” You quip, still doubting a man like him would know what he’s referencing. Take that, misogyny.

“Nah, I took it over the summer.”

…

You’ve got to be kidding.

Literally fuck this guy.

You blink at him once. Twice. He takes the silence as an invitation to keep torturing you.

“At the local community college. Way cheaper, too.” His eyes widen to exaggerate his point. “Are you a math major?”

“No, engineering.” You clip, bluntness seeping into your tone.

“Same! Aerospace.” Why is he so eager at 7am?!

“Electrical.”

“Nice! Heard that’s, like, one of the hardest ones.”

“It is.” It seems like your distaste finally translates in your voice, he doesn’t push any further. It’s with angry, trembling hands that you return to your work.

What kind of fucking factory did this guy even come from?

As if his perfect fucking face wasn’t enraging enough, he just has to be smart too! And he’s not some freaky, incel dweeb! He actually struck up a conversation with a girl. Well, at least tried to. If anything, you were the weird, awkward one.

The remaining 55 minutes of the lecture are painfully slow. You’re seeing characteristic polynomials on the walls. The professor could not speak in a more robotic tone. The freak of nature to your left has been texting nonstop.

The professor finally decides to release the class of their educational shackles, and dismiss everyone. You’re stuffing your iPad into its sleeve when Captain Sunshine stands up next to you, backpack slinging over his perfectly rounded deltoid.

“See ya!” He smiles, just about blinding you with ridiculously white teeth. Not even giving you a chance to respond before he’s shuffling past you, sauntering down the stairs and out of the lecture hall.

You look around the room to see if anyone else witnessed the 6’2 hunk make his debut in this random, lower division history course. A couple girls are packing up their things and whispering amongst each other, flattery written all over their faces. So your suspicions were correct. He leaves a trail of dropped panties in his wake. Scoffing to yourself, you shove your iPad into your bag and trudge out of the room.

You have no idea who just sat next to you. He didn’t even give you his name. Not like you expected him to, you did share less than 50 words with each other. Not a single identifying brand on his person, no sports, no clubs, nothing. You couldn’t have hallucinated him, because it seems other girls in the hall were even more flustered by his presence than you were.

So who the hell is he?

“Stop biting your cheek, you’re gonna get premature jowls.” Your best friend, and housemate, Tara scolds you from across the cafe table. You both had some time to kill between lectures, so you’d hunkered down at a coffee shop on campus to chat and get some studying done.

“I know, I know, sorry.” You mumble in response, twiddling your Apple Pencil in your fingers. Tara takes a deep sigh.

“Alright, what’s on your mind?” She always had a knack for reading you. Or maybe you were just a very readable person.

“I literally hate men.” She furrows her brows.

“Whose house am I egging tonight?” You take a sip of your matcha, shaking your head before swallowing.

“No, no, no one did anything wrong. I just had to sit next to this super annoying guy in my history lecture this morning.”

“What did he do to you? Was it another Chucky situation?” Chucky was this super short, ginger guy that had followed you to the library after you wouldn’t give him your number. Average experience as a woman in stem.

“Ew, don’t even say his name out loud.” You look over your shoulder, as if saying his name would summon him or something. “I barely even spoke to this guy, he was like… irritating. I don’t know.” You connect your pencil back to your iPad before slumping in your chair.

“Examples, babe, I need examples. Did he smell bad? Misogynist? Ugly?” Tara gasps, covering her mouth. “Was he a republican?” You cover your eyes as you giggle.

“No. I mean, the republican thing, I couldn’t tell you. But that’s not it. He just like… ugh. The type of irritating you get from really hot guys.” You roll your eyes just remembering the interaction. A look of confusion graces Tara’s face.

“Was he like, trying to hit on you?” She cocks her head to the side.

“I don’t think so. He asked me about my DQ homework. And said he was in aero. Then said bye when lecture was over.” Tara narrows her eyes, setting down her drink.

“Okay, so, a really hot guy sat next to you, talked to you about math, and then left you alone for the rest of the lecture?”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“Have you lost your mind? You should have gotten his socials or something!”

“Oh my god, I’m not explaining it well.” You drop your face into your crossed arms on the table.

“What else is there to explain? He sounds like he’s totally your type!” Propping your chin up, you groan in defeat.

“Yeah, but like… I don’t know! My female intuition was trying to warn me or something.”

“Girl.”

“What?”

“You’re killing me. My obituary is gonna say ‘cause of death: best friend has no game.’”

“You are so dramatic, oh my god.”

“Seriously! When was the last time you got laid?” Tara retorts with a deadpan expression.

“Tara!” You whisper-yell, embarrassed she would bring up such a topic in a public setting.

“All I’m saying is I think some dick would do you good!” She puts her hands up in faux submission. “Why not give the hot nerd a shot?” She wiggles her eyebrows, making you cover your face in humiliation.

The conversation replays in your head two days later, as you sit in your unassigned assigned seat for your history lecture. Like clockwork, the mystery man enters the room a minute before start, slowly making his way up the stairs to your row.

“That seat taken?” He nods to the open chair next to you. This time, his hair is a little damp, presumably from a morning shower. The athletic shorts have been replaced with a pair of black sweatpants. Instead of a sweatshirt, he’s wearing a washed blue tshirt with some surf logo you don’t recognize, showcasing the most vascular forearms you think you’ve ever seen. Santal 33 wafts through the air once again.

“All you.” You respond dryly, tucking your bag under the chair to let him pass.

“Cool.” Another smooth drawl, just like last time. He scoots past you and sinks into the open seat. When he leans down to push his backpack under the seat, you sneak a second glance.

Wait a minute.

Is that a fucking hickey?

This man has a fucking hickey on his neck!

You have no more than 3 seconds to ogle the little bruise before he’s sitting back in his seat.

Are you shocked? Well, no. It would be a little concerning if a man as good looking as him wasn’t getting any girls.

Hold up. It could be from a guy, too. This is a judgement free zone.

But he doesn’t really set off your Gaydar. And you’re pretty confident on the accuracy of your Gaydar!

You’re getting distracted. His sexuality does not matter, because you aren’t interested in him! Absolutely no chance.

He’s just fun to look at! And maybe day dream about cute study dates, walking to class together, dorm sleepovers…

Study dates?? Dorm sleepovers?? You don’t even fucking know this guy!

Blinking a few times to push the thought away, your attention returns to the work in front of you, device physics. So fun.

The professor begins his painful monologue on God knows what. You’re practicing depletion region calculations. He’s texting, again.

But he doesn’t ask you about your work. You’re not even sure he looks over at what you’re doing. The two of you sit in silence.

For the entire lecture.

So much for shooting your shot!

The professor dismisses class, and he stands up before you’re done gathering your things.

“Bye!” He gives you a half smile before swiftly exiting the lecture hall.

At least he had the decency to say bye?

But, fuck! You couldn’t even get a single word out!

You wanna rip out your hair. You wanna rip out his hair. Everyone is getting their hair ripped out!

It’s with heavy feet and poor posture that you stomp back to your apartment. Wednesdays were your easy days, plenty of time to go back to your place and chill before the next lecture block. When you finally drag yourself through the entryway of your place, Tara seems to be getting ready to leave.

“Hey! How was class?” She chirps, clearly in a better mood than you.

“Stupid. I didn’t even get to talk to him.” No context necessary, she immediately knows who you’re referring to.

“Did he skip?” You drop your bag on the couch before collapsing onto it, as well. Digging the heels of your palms into your eyes, you let out a frustrated groan.

“No, he literally sat right next to me. Again.” Her face comes into view above you as she leans over the back of the couch.

“And you didn’t say anything?!”

“He was the one that started the conversation last time!”

“So?! Match his energy!”

“What if he was just being nice?”

“Okay, then he’s just being nice! Will it kill you to at least learn his name?” Another overwhelmed groan escaped you. “If you don’t figure out his name by your next lecture together, I’m changing the locks to the house. Got it?”

“You’re so mean to me.” You turn over to bury your face in the couch cushions.

“It’s because I love you!” Tara shoots over her shoulder as she grabs her keys and tote from her bedroom. She’s halfway out the door when she mentions one last thing.

“Oh! Totally forgot. Gideon invited us to his frat thing Friday night. Theme is Cowboys Vs. Aliens. Attendance is nonnegotiable. Tell you more tonight. Byeeeee!” Her farewell is cut off by the door slamming behind her.

Great. Not only are you weird and off putting in lectures, now you can be weird and off putting at a party! Surrounded by a bunch of drunk college students. Life is awesome!

Friday morning arrives too quickly. Sitting in your favorite seat, twirling your Apple Pencil, waiting for your lecture crush to show up. You even put a little more effort into your outfit today! Gotta fake it til you make it!

The professor begins his ramble, and he’s still not here. It’s whatever, he usually just barely gets here on time anyways! You watch the clock on the wall tick. 5 minutes pass. 10 minutes pass. 20 minutes pass.

He’s still not here.

You pull out your phone to text Tara.

you: hot nerd skipped today 😔

tara-dactyl: tell me why i don’t believe u 🤨

you: im being fr!!! bros nowhere to be found!!!

tara-dactyl: swear?

you: stg 🙏

tara-dactyl: fineeee

tara-dactyl: changing of the locks has been postponed to monday. consider yourself lucky🫵

Smiling to yourself, you tuck your phone back into your pocket. Can’t believe you wasted a good outfit for him to not even show up!

Around 5pm, you start getting ready for the party. A cold shower to calm your nerves. Favorite rollers in your hair for your best blowout. You and Tara bring your respective makeup kits into the bathroom and get ready together. The music is bumping, the pregame drinks are hitting, it’s enough to make you forget about the humbling week you had. Once your face is beat, you toss all of your costume-y, party clothes onto Tara’s bed to collaborate on outfits.

Tara was going as a cowgirl, you were going as an alien. She had a cute pink cowboy hat, along with a skimpy little white tube top, a denim miniskirt the size of a belt, and some matching pink cowboy boots.

You, on the other hand, had this silver sequined cowl neck number. Neckline dipping down extra low for some tasteful cleavage, the back even lower. Paired with a black miniskirt, some white gogo boots, and a cheesy little headband with two bobbling antennae, it was very much giving alien.

The official start time of the party was 9pm, but it was near 10 and you had just called your uber.

“Alright, ground rules for tonight!” Tara slurs, a little more tipsy than you. “No unsealed drinks! No disappearing without the other knowing! And no one under 6’0!” She holds another shot in the air, you both hooting and hollering as you take your final drink before leaving.

“And no hooking up with your ex!” You tease in return, Tara rolling her eyes. Setting your shot glasses in the sink, Tara yells out from the living room.

“Uber is 1 minute out!” Grabbing your purse of the counter, doing a once over in the mirror by the front door, and the two of you go hand in hand out to the curb to flag down your driver.

A short ride over to the frat house later, you’re thanking the Uber as you try not to stumble out of the vehicle. The party is booming. Thankfully, majority of the partygoers are in costume. People on the front lawn are playing die. The big Greek letters above the porch awning are lit up, Chi Sigma Wave. You can hear the distinct thump thump thump of house music from the street. Tara hooks her elbow in yours as you make your way towards the heart of the rager.

It’s insanely packed inside. There’s another game of beer pong happening in the living room, with too many people to count surrounding it. Another section of the living room holds what looks to be a frat brother behind a set of turntables, just absolutely dicing shit up. A group of people dance around the DJ booth, hips swaying and feet bouncing.

The kitchen has been turned into a makeshift bar. Chairs and miscellaneous furniture have barricaded the walkways off, and a couple frat brothers stand behind the island handing out drinks of all kinds.

The air is already a little sticky in here, you don’t even want to think about how it feels in the basement. Or upstairs, for that matter.

“Let’s do a lap and find something to drink!” You shout into Tara’s ear, earning a nod from her. She tugs you towards the living room, weaving her way into the crowd. You’re glad to see even most of the fraternity members dressed up. Some of them obviously trying to be nonchalant with their costumes, others not so much.

One of the guys playing beer pong is painted green from head to toe. You respect the commitment to the bit.

A lap around the main floor, a couple fleeting moments of eye contact with strangers, you and Tara find yourselves at the improvised bar.

“Gideon!” Tara exclaims to the brunette behind the bar. He reaches a hand over to dap her up.

“Tare-bear! What’s up, girl?” Gideon is on bar duty wearing one of those silly inflatable suits that makes it look like you’re sitting on the aliens shoulders. “Glad to see y’all made it! What can I get for you?”

“Got any Trulys back there?” He takes a peak into one of the coolers behind the counter.

“Only got the lime ones left, that cool?” Tara nods and he reaches down to hand her two cans. With a quick cheers, you’re cracking yours open and taking a swig.

Tara continues to catch up with Gideon as you lean your back against the island, surveying the party once more.

You choke on your drink.

By the staircase, a brunette, alien girl leans against the wall, twirling her hair. Crowding her is a 6’2, lean muscled cowboy, wearing nothing but a brown cowboy hat, a red bandana triangle tied around his neck, and some low-slung, dark denim jeans.

No shirt. You can tell from across the room he’s a little damp with sweat, perfectly plump chest just glistening in the flashing lights.

That is, without a doubt, the fucking douchebag from your history lecture.

And he is sweet-talking the hell out of that unsuspecting girl.

Lazy grin taking over his features. One forearm is braced above the girls head, total disregard for her personal space. The other loosely holds a beer bottle at his side.

A predator cornering his prey, she has literally nowhere to run. Except, unlike the wild, she shows no signs of wanting to escape. She is exactly where she wants to be.

You can’t even blame her.

Like a 6th sense, Tara breaks from her conversation with Gideon to check in with you. Only to find you are absolutely honed in on the scene unfolding across the room. She can connect the dots, but not before you whip around to Gideon.

“What’s that guys name?” Finger pointed directly at the familiar figure, Gideon follows your line of sight.

“Oh, Caleb? He’s our VP.” Completely oblivious to the lore behind this man, Gideon can only watch you and Tara stare at each other in disbelief.

“The hot nerd from your history class is Caleb fucking Xia?!” Tara shouts at you in shock. The three of you look at each other, before all switching your attention back to the apex predator across the room.

The predator that is currently going in for the kill.

Caleb, with an effortless tilt of his head, removes his cowboy hat, setting it atop the brunette aliens head. All before he takes her hand, leading her up the staircase, and disappearing from the party.

Well, at least you know he’s not gay!

authors note: frat!caleb im about to make you my bitch😈

also hella paranoid the panhellenic demons are gonna put a bounty on my head if I use a real fraternity name, so let’s all pretend sig waves are the real deal😁

°˖✧~*♡*~✧˖°

You woke to the scent of Nebulasia Apple blossoms and the weight of a galaxy pinning you down.

The subtle, nectar-sweet aroma of the flower was so nostalgic and comforting that it took another few moments for you to realize that you couldn’t move any of your limbs. You’d almost drifted right back to sleep, oblivious to whatever it was that had woken you in the first place; it was only when you attempted to roll over to the cooler side of your bed that you realized something was wrong. You remained pinned in place, your hands stretched above your head as if they were tied to your headboard.

The distant, comforting memories brought forth from the scent of the flower slowly curdled into alarm. Your eyes shot open. Your head was tilted to the side just enough to give you a glimpse of the source of the perfume filling the air. The petals were freshly unfurled and unbruised, lying delicately on your silk pillow inches away from your nose.

And beyond the bloom stood an imposing silhouette outlined in silver moonlight. He was framed by the fabric of your curtains, billowing slightly in the breeze from the open window that you were positive you’d had your maids close and lock last night.

You thrashed under the immovable weight to no avail. The pressure was familiar, a feeling that you’d even enjoyed before in the right moment... but after last night’s decision to cut things off with the only person who could produce such a force, it only sent your panic churning into a tidal wave.

He shouldn’t be here.

You gathered your breath to call for your guards, only to feel the same force clamp down on your throat just enough to smother the building scream.

Caleb tsked at you. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he singsonged, stepping closer. “I can assure you that you don’t want any more dead guards on your palace grounds tonight.”

The force of gravity slipped from your throat after a strained, too-long moment, but Caleb kept the grip of his Evol on the rest of you. He stepped forward, his shadow looming over your pliant body.

“A breakup message, Y/N? Really?” Caleb asked, his arms crossing. He was using the same tone of voice he did when you were a kid, the voice that made you feel small, naive, and stupid.

But you were the Empress, for fuck’s sake. You wouldn’t let him talk down to you, not even when you were forcibly laid beneath him.

“It wasn’t a breakup message,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “It was a promise that the next time I saw you, I would kill you myself—”

“I am not just a plaything that you can break up with, silly girl.” He spoke over you as if you hadn’t uttered a word. He leaned down, grabbing your cheeks hard with his long fingers, pressing your flesh against your jaw so tight that you worried it would bruise. He canted his head to the side, a sliver of moonlight briefly illuminating the depths of his violent-violet eyes. “I am your brother.”

“You’re nothing to me, Caleb,” you spat, but the attempt at venom in your tone only made him smile and then laugh.

It was a dark, humorless laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

“Mm, I missed you, sweet girl. Even missed your bratty mouth.” He let go of his grip on your face before straightening to his full height. The smile dropped from his face lightning-fast, leaving his plush lips pressed together in a tight line. “But I don’t appreciate being on the receiving end of that brattiness right now. You save that for your nobles and your servants—you speak to me with respect.”

“I am the Empress of the Cosmic Empire, I can speak to anyone however I please. Now let me go before I have you executed.”

A muscle pulsed in his jaw, his eyes twitching into a glare for just a moment before he took a deep breath, turned, and walked away.

You thought he might actually be listening to your order for only half a moment before he began to take his High Marshal’s overcoat off, the fabric sliding down his broad shoulders with a careful shrug. He folded it neatly and laid it over the back of your reading chair in the corner.

He wasn’t leaving. He was making himself comfortable. Your heart picked up its pace as he turned and made his way back to you.

“Such big threats from such a little girl. What are you going to do, sweetheart?” He challenged, his fingers now deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt. His eyes roamed down your body, taking in the shape of your waist, your hips, your legs, only covered by a thin sheet. “You look rather tied up to me. You can yell for your lapdogs if you really want, but it would only be a death sentence. None of the other sad excuses for men in the rest of the building stood a chance on my way in. Really, Y/N, you should take your security a little more seriously.” His tone turned mocking, belittling.

He unbuttoned the last inches of his shirt, the sculpt of his muscles now on full display in the night’s glow that seeped in from the windows. You squirmed at the sight—as much as you could, at least, beneath the weight of his Evol. It was an instinctual reaction, an innate reflex branded into your being after hundreds of other nights spent beneath that same body. You couldn’t help the wet heat that began to seep out between your legs, or the fluttering anticipation low in your belly.

It made you fucking furious.

You were done with Caleb. Done with his games. Done with his betrayal. Your purpose in this world was to rule, and he’d done nothing but get in the way.

It was obvious that Caleb loved how the words got caught in your throat at the sight of him uncovered. He slipped the shirt off the rest of the way, sinfully slow and taunting. His muscles rippled with the action, a reminder that it wasn’t just his royal garb that made him so imposing.

“Don’t lie to me, baby. You missed me.” He said, hushed and low. “I can see it written all over your face. Even underneath all that hate.” He laid his shirt across the foot of your bed. Leaving little traces of himself all over, like he owned the place.

Like he owned you.

And maybe the truth was that he did own you.

“Why are you playing these games, Caleb?” you demanded, but the words were strained, edging on tears. He really did have a way of making you feel so small when he wanted to. You were supposedly the strongest ruler in all the galaxy, the universe, and all it took was one man to bring you down.

Caleb’s hands reached for his belt buckle. Slow. So damn slow. “I don’t know what you mean, Y/N,” he singsonged, playful. “The only one playing games is you. With your silly little threats and silly little messages. I’m just here to visit my baby sister and remind her who I am to her, like a good brother should.”

“I’m not playing games. I don’t want you, Caleb. Not anymore,” you hissed, the frustrated admission slipping out alongside the first of your tears. Caleb paused for a moment at those words, like they’d stung. So you pressed on. If you couldn’t hurt him physically, you’d use the only weapon at your disposal. “All you do is make a fool of me. In front of my people, in front of yours, tricking me into giving you my trust only to shatter it again and again and again. I’ve had enough. I don’t need you, I don’t want you, I want you fucking gone.”

Caleb tugged the remaining leather of his belt hard, the end slipping free from the buckle.

“So that’s what your tantrum is about,” he said softly. Maybe he didn’t want it to show, but he was hurt. You could tell by the shaking grip of his fist on his belt. He took another deep breath, collecting that demeaning and belittling presence again. “You took last week’s political maneuvers so seriously?”

“Of course I fucking did. You seized an entire fleet of my ships! Stole the cargo right from under my nose—”

“And that’s the worth of our relationship, Y/N?” He interrupted. “A fleet of ships? One small move that you didn’t like—that you presumed was born of ill intent—and you’re ready to just throw me away?”

There was something unhinged in his eyes, growing from sparks to a blaze. Something broken that refused to be hidden.

Your tears were flowing freely, spurred on by fear and anger.

You hated Caleb.

No, that wasn’t right...

You hated hurting him.

It didn’t stop you from what you said next.

“Don’t put this on me, Caleb. You’re the one who made the decision to betray me. I’m only acting in my best interest.” The scent of those flowers on your pillow—the ones you’d agreed as kids would always earn each other’s forgiveness—begged you to stop, to swallow the venom and give up, but you refused. “You’ve given me no great pleasure that I can’t find from other men. Men who respect me. Who respect my rule. You aren’t needed anymore.”

When he pulled his belt from his belt loops, there was nothing slow about it. It was like a viper striking, slipping free in one blink of the eye. In moments, he had the leather—warmed from his body heat, smelling infuriatingly of him—wrapped around your wrists and through the decorative swirls of your wrought-iron headboard. It was overkill. You were still caught beneath his Evol, unable to move an inch, yet he clearly wanted to prove a point.

That you were his to betray. His to hurt. His to tie up and use how he pleased.

When he was done trussing you up, his gaze moved down from your bound wrists to look you in the eye. The stormy sunset and violet colors overwhelmed you from so close. He was unfaltering, unblinking. The tip of his nose was just inches away as he hovered over you, a predator staring down its prey. You could feel the desperate, shaking breath coming from between his lips.

“Make it through me fucking you without cumming and I’ll believe you,” he challenged, teeth gritted.

You could feel pressure against your throat again. Not enough to stop your breathing, but enough to keep your words from forming.

He’d had enough of your mouthing off.

He ripped the sheet off your body, the only defense between him and you crumpled and discarded like trash. The night breeze made you shiver, the urge to curl up into a ball overwhelming, but his gravity still embraced every inch of your flesh against the mattress. You were supine and helpless to change it. You could feel the scream building in your chest, but it was plugged up like a river behind a dam; all that left your body was a few reedy breaths, your tears, and the slick pooling beneath your core. Your wet need for him was callously irreverent to your declarations of being done with him.

Caleb took in the state of you as he undid the button of his pants. You wore nothing but a thin shift. The bottom hem had bunched up high on your legs, revealing all but the very tops of your thighs and hips. The neckline was skewed in such a way that the top half of your nipple was exposed; it was all too visible how they pebbled under his watch.

His cock gave a desperate jerk inside his pants. It threatened the seams and elicited a sound from him somewhere between a whimper and a growl. Yanking down the waistband of his pants and undergarments with them, he unleashed his hardened length and gripped it tight in his fist, the pearly precum catching the same moonlight that glinted in his eyes.

“You know, I was already planning on visiting tonight,” he said, giving a few jerks of his cock like it would tame some of his pent-up anger and hurt. But the way his jaw clenched, the way his fist tightened, you could tell it was only making it worse. “Before you sent your little breakup message. I knew you wouldn’t like what happened with that fleet. You act like such a brat every time I try to do something nice. You always have, ever since you were little. I knew I’d have to come by and explain myself before you did something rash.”

He climbed onto the bed, knocking your legs wider with his knees until he had space to settle between them. It made your shift slip all the way up, revealing your core—your bare core—directly to Caleb. He licked his lips, stroking his cock faster as he kneeled before you.

“But you beat me to it. Decided you wanted to kill me without even hearing me out, huh, sweetheart?” he asked, slightly breathless. It was a rhetorical question, of course. His gravity kept your voice pulled tight within your chest, unable to answer him.

His tip was leaking more now, trailing down the swollen, veiny length of his shaft just like the tears trailing down your cheeks.

“I’m not going to lie, Y/N, that... really hurts my feelings.” He let out a single breathy, chuffing not-laugh.

Releasing his cock from his fist, Caleb latched his bruising grip to each of your thighs. He yanked on them, pulling you closer so that your legs were spread open on his lap, his sticky cock inches away from your embarrassingly wet core.

“It’s okay, though. I’ve got thick skin. I forgive you,” he said, using one finger to spread open your cunt, eyes taking in the wet evidence of your want. “You don’t even need to worry about leaving a flower on my pillow for forgiveness. This right here is all I need.”

He pushed his finger inside, just to the first knuckle. There was no resistance, none at all. Slick and swollen, your body was ready for him, begging for him, dripping and hot and throbbing despite your insistence that he was nothing to you. You tested the weight of his Evol again, trying to break free before he could continue to see just how badly your body was betraying you, but it was no use.

“Mmm.” Caleb groaned, swirling his finger there, taunting you. “That’s what I thought. So wet and messy, and I’ve barely even touched you. You’re so much sweeter when you can’t spit your venom at me. It’s okay, I’ll let her do the communicating,” he said, nodding down to your core. “She can be so much more reasonable than you.”

The tip of his finger left your cunt to trace the edge of his lips, painting them before he licked the slick up like he was finishing dessert. His cock pulsed out another large, hot drop of precum as he tasted your need.

“Well, since I have you here so... compliant, maybe you’ll even be willing to listen,” he said, his hand dropping to fist his cock again. “I suppose I should give you an explanation.”

He moved the tip of his cock to swirl against the spread-open lips of your cunt, gently teasing the entrance and coating his cockhead with what pooled out of you. It took a moment to gather his words. And in all truth, had you been able to speak, you would’ve needed a moment to gather your words, too—just the mere touch of that most intimate part of him against you was like lightning to your system, setting every nerve and brain cell into a frenzy. After taking a few shallow breaths to steady himself—just as lost in the intensity of the contact as you—he reluctantly looked up from your core kissing his cock to look you in the eye.

“I seized that fleet because I got word that you’d been betrayed,” he spoke firmly, unblinking, punctuating the words with the circling movement of his dick. Round and round and round it moved, soaking your sheets beneath you with all the slick that he pulled from your body. You wanted to squirm away, to retract your hips out of his reach, to hide the proof that your body responded to him in ways you could never stop. He did not allow it. “And before you get all angry that I have spies watching you, let me remind you of something that you never should have forgotten—everything I’ve ever done and will continue to do is for you.”

Caleb’s cock pressed forward, spearing you with an inch. You gasped, the sound muffled from the grip of his Evol, but the widening of your eyes and the tensing of your back muscles were enough to signal to him how little of his cock it took to get your full attention. That smirk draped in sin and mockery returned to his face before he continued to speak.

“My sources told me that the arms deal you signed with that warlord from the Lorne Galaxy never planned on those weapons making their way into your hands. It was a set-up.” Another inch pressed into you; another pause from Caleb as he tamed his baser impulses long enough to speak. “They were planning a coup, sweetheart. They had people here at the palace and the city gates waiting to play their hand. And you wanted me to sit back and just watch them show up at your doorstep with enough weaponry to arm a militia thrice over? Look at how easily I managed to break in, and I’m just one man.” He laughed, the vibration of it resonating inside you through the top of his cock. “You would have been at their mercy.” The smile dropped from his face. “I would never allow that. You should know that.”

He shifted, moving so that he no longer sat between your legs; he now hovered just above your body, his arms on either side of your head keeping the full mass of his body from crushing you. Not that it really made a difference, as his Evol still weighed heavily on you, making you feel like the pressed flowers you used to make to preserve the Nebulasia Apple blossoms he put on your pillow after every argument you ever had. His cock was still partially penetrating you, like a knife at your throat, its presence unable to be ignored.

“So yeah, I seized your fucking fleet,” he murmured into your ear, his breath hot on the side of your face. His tongue flicked out, catching the bead of nervous perspiration that had appeared at your hairline. “I killed every fucking person on board, slowly, but not before I got the names of every single person in your city that was in on the plan. I’ll kill them too, sweetheart, I can promise you that. Right after we settle this tantrum of yours and you learn to thank me when I do something to protect you.”

Caleb pushed his cock the rest of the way in—all nine of his inches sinking deep inside, filling you up, the thick, pulsing girth staking its claim on every bit of your stretched-out pussy.

The way it slid in, the way the ridge of his cockhead pressed into you, the angle he hit, the way he whimpered into your ear—

You couldn’t even hold out for that single thrust.

It would be an absolute lie to say you hated being pinned down. Fuck, it was too much. He was too much. The weight of his power holding you down, the wide width of his abdomen and sculpt of his muscles caging you in, the way you could feel the veins of his dick throbbing inside of you and pressing against your swollen walls, all of it had you not just climbing over the edge but plummeting over it. Your cunt clamped down on him, squeezing him, pulsing an ecstatic rhythm as you went crosseyed and your vision went white. It was only then that he chose to loosen his Evol from your vocal cords, just in time to allow that pleading cry to escape your lips, filling the room with the song of your climax.

Caleb fucking laughed.

“I only just put my cock in you, and you’re already cumming. So fucking needy for your big brother, aren’t you?” He laughed again, shaking his head in pure disdain. “And you dared to tell me you don’t need me. You little fucking liar. Little girls like you need to get punished for being so blatant with their lies.”

And the pace he set with his cock as he began to fuck you was certainly punishing.

“You are mine, Y/N. Always have been and always will be.” The words were strained from the force of his hips pounding into you. “No matter how many times you try to say otherwise. No matter how many tantrums you throw. You. Are. Mine. Understood?”

Even now that he had released his Evol from your vocal cords, you couldn’t speak—you had been reduced to a blabbering, whimpering mess, all brain function gone out the open window from the sheer velocity of his cock.

He sat back on his heels, lifting your legs up and over his broad shoulders so that you were suspended from him by the backs of your knees. The angle allowed him to hit that much deeper inside of you, making your hips swing against him like a natural pendulum spurred on by his thrusts. It pulled a pained gasp from your lips; his cock was harder than steel, threatening to split you open from the inside.

“Tell me, baby sis. Who are these other men you can find pleasure from?” He demanded, eyes narrowed and glinting in the low light. “I want names.”

Of course, you couldn’t utter even a syllable without crying out. “I—I—I don’t—“

“Names, meimei.”

“C-Caleb—”

He let out a panting chuckle, his cock twitching inside of you at his own name being pounded out of you. “Not my name, silly girl. The names of these supposed other men that you would abandon your own brother for. Is it one of your advisors?” He asked, canting his head to the side. “Or is it the guards posted outside your door? Maybe you should call for them, after all. We can let them watch how hard your brother and sworn enemy makes you come. Give them one last show before I break their fucking necks.”

He growled, slamming into you harder.

“Now, meimei. Who are the other men you want to fuck? Tell me before I start killing every man in this palace just to be sure.”

“C-C-Caleb! Please!”

He closed his eyes and nuzzled his jaw up against your calf where it hung from his shoulders, humming contentedly, a predator cozying up to its mate. He let out a snorting chuckle. “I’m demanding to know who these other men you want to fuck are, and all you can do is cry out my name. Sounds like you were lying about that, too, huh, baby girl? You don’t want to fuck anyone else, right? Just me? Just your big brother who takes such good care of you? With his military and his dick? Mmmm. I don’t like it when you lie to me, but this one is kinda cute, meimei. Your little cunt can only think of me, and you hate it so much that you had to pretend like there’s any other cock in this universe that can fuck you like mine can. You’re a terrible liar.”

His storming sunset eyes opened, honing in on where your tits bounced under your shift from the force of his pounding. The cascade of hot wetness pooling from your core was dripping down your mound and over your tummy from the angle he had you at.

“You’re probably so embarrassed, aren’t you? You want to seem so strong and independent. Big, grown-up girl ruling her empire, able to get any man she wants. But all you want is me.” He paused his thrusting, letting his dick sit fully inside you, grinding up against you so that you felt his leaking tip press against the deepest reaches of your pussy. “Throwing tantrums and threatening to kill me. But look at you. How would you get yourself off without me, baby?” His singsong, playful tone was back in full force, mocking and humiliating. “You need your brother’s cock. You need it soo fucking bad, that’s why you act like such a brat when I’m not around. But here you are, all choked up and dumb on my dick, like you should be. It’s okay, baby. I’ll give you what you need. You don’t even need to ask for it.”

He ran his hand down your thigh, dipping into the curve between your legs, sliding his finger tips through your bush before stroking your clit with his thumb.

“Come for me again, sweetheart. One more time. One more, and I won’t kill your guards or your advisors. The ones still loyal to you, at least. Can you do that for me?” he asked, voice sickly sweet. “Come on my cock, like it’s the only cock you want. Show your big brother how you belong to him and him alone, and we can put this whole nasty argument behind us.”

You whimpered, the natural pressure of his thumb on your clit somehow more overwhelming than that of his Evol. You felt your blood racing to meet his touch, swelling up underneath his ministrations and making your stretched-out pussy pulse around his cock. It was building, faster and faster, making your vision go hazy again.

“Come on, sweet girl...”

He bucked his hips up against you, shorter but harder thrusts, hitting that one spot inside you that had you seeing stars, the fat, broad head of his cock coaxing you to come all over him once again.

“Caleb, fuck! Mmm—”

It was the only words you were capable of uttering as the ecstasy took over your body once more, clamping the walls of your cunt on his cock hard. He whimpered in response, desperate and caught off guard by the sheer force of your climax. He shuddered, his brow furrowing and his mouth dropping open. He watched the spot where you clenched around him intently, his body going tense and vibrating with his own incoming need to come.

“Oh baby, that’s right, show me how fucking good you feel... so wet and hot for me, meimei—oh fuck, I’m—”

He jerked violently, pulling his cock out of your cunt’s gripping hold and using a combo of his Evol and hands to untangle your legs from his shoulders and lay you further down on the bed. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling your head to his cock just in time to shove it down your throat as he unloaded his cum. You gagged, his hot, sticky length going too far for comfort and nearly blocking your airway, tears rolling down your cheeks from the intrusion. But he didn’t relent, holding you there as he pulsed rope after rope of his spend into your mouth.

“That’s right, drink it down, baby,” he said, continuing to talk through his orgasm. He just didn’t know when to stop talking, did he? He let the words ramble, his voice shaking and syrupy from his pleasure. “Take it. Take it all. Taste how much I need you. You love it, don’t you? Love your brother’s cum? I know you do. Good girl. This is where you belong, gagging on my cum. Don’t ever pretend otherwise again.”

Caleb waited until the last drop was running down the back of your tongue, easing out his length enough so you could properly breathe. His chest was heaving, his muscles quaking with exertion. He stared at you, at the tears running down your cheeks, at the cum painting your lips, down your naked body to the mess between your legs. That anger that he’d been emanating from the moment you woke up had dimmed, that hurt in his eyes had dulled. It was replaced with satisfaction, with pride.

One side of his mouth quirked up.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have a few dead men walking to address.” He said, reaching for his discarded pants. “Can’t have anyone questioning my baby sister’s authority, can we?”

°˖✧~*♡*~✧˖°

the heat of early june in the province always carried a specific kind of weight, heavy with the scent of sun-baked asphalt, dry grass, and the faint rot of fallen mangoes in the backyard. it was summer, finally! the kind of summer that felt less like a break and more like a threshold. you had just wrapped up your sophomore year at the state university down the road, a year spent navigating crowded lecture halls, cheap iced coffees, and a revolving door of new faces that you tried very hard to care about.

for the first time in your life ever since, you and caleb hadn't shared a daily routine. 

after eighteen years of being so aggressively attached at the hip that your shadows practically bled together, the last four years had seen you both drifted into your own separate worlds. it was a strange, quiet realization: you both had lives of your own now. 

caleb had packed his bags for that prestigious aerospace academy up north, his childhood fascination with the sky hardening into a fierce passion for flying. you, on the other hand, had stayed behind anchored to the familiar soil of your hometown just to float between random orgs, shifting friend groups, and the vague pursuit of figuring out who you were when you weren't “caleb and his girl.”

and today, he was coming home....

the question had been humming under your skin all morning, rhythmic and annoying like a cicada’s buzz. did caleb change? would he look different? act different? 

the last time you saw him in the flesh, right before his departure, he had already begun to outgrow the lanky, boyish frame you could map with your eyes closed. his shoulders had broadened, his jawline cutting a sharper silhouette against the terminal lights. he had looked less like the boy who used to help you steal guavas from the neighbor's tree and more like a stranger you'd cross the street to look twice at.

”make sure you tell him to eat properly while he's here,” granny had mumbled earlier this morning, her voice thick with sleep as she shuffled around the kitchen, adjusting the mesh food cover over a plate of fried rice. “that boy always forgets to look after himself when he's excited.”

you had laughed, buzzing with a restless, frantic energy, nodding quickly as you practically flew out the screen door. you didn't even bother putting on real shoes—just slipped your feet into a pair of worn-out rubber slippers, the soles thin enough that you could feel the morning grit of the driveway beneath your arches.

gideon’s car was already idling by the gate, the exhaust coughing a pale plume of smoke into the crisp morning air. gideon, caleb's friend and the closest thing you both had to another brother, had come back from the city a few days earlier because of some vague corporate endeavor he refused to elaborate on. his early return was a stroke of luck; it meant you didn't have to brave the crowded public transportation to get to the drop-off terminal.

“look who finally crawled out of bed,” gideon teased as you yanked the backdoor open and threw yourself into the backseat. the leather was cool against the backs of your thighs, a sharp contrast to the mounting humidity outside.

“i've been up since five, actually,” you shot back, leaning forward so your chin was practically resting on the gap between the two front seats. “go, go, go. we're going to be late, gideon!”

“we have forty minutes, calm down,” gideon chuckled, throwing the car into reverse with practiced ease. his hand spun the steering wheel effortlessly as he backed out onto the main road.

the moment the car straightened out, you immediately started. you couldn't help it. the questions poured out of you in a breathless stream, all of them centered around the one person who hadn't been here. because gideon and caleb were in the same university for college, gideon was your only real window into caleb’s new life.

“is he still doing those crazy flight simulator hours? did he actually pass his survival training or did he cry? does he still sleep with three pillows? is he... does he look different, gideon? like, really different?”

gideon navigated the familiar potholes of the provincial highway, answering each query with a patient nod of his head. he was used to this. he had been the buffer between you and caleb ever since.

“he's fine. still a nerd about planes,” gideon said, glancing at you through the rearview mirror with a knowing smirk. “he passed the survival drills with top marks, obviously. you know how he is. he doesn't cry over dirt. and yeah, he's bigger. the academy makes them do a lot of physical training. he looks like a proper pilot now.”

you listened to every word, your head tilting slightly, your eyes fixed on the back of gideon's head. you were listening so attentively it almost hurt, your ears straining for something specific. a name, maybe. a habit. a detail that sounded wrong, or a hint of a girl, or a sign that he had completely outgrown the small-town girl who used to share his umbrella. you were waiting for a phrase that would confirm your deepest, unvoiced fear: that he had left you behind in the dust of the province.

but that piece of information didn't arrive. gideon just kept talking about credit hours, physical exams, and flight logistics.

“anyway,” gideon clears his throat, switching gears as he turned onto the long stretch of road leading to the junction. “enough about the golden boy. how's state uni treating you? your granny said you joined some theater production crew last month. you making friends?”

the spark in your chest caught a sudden, damp chill. your posture slumped just a fraction, the manic energy leaving your shoulders as quickly as it had arrived. the topic was no longer caleb.

“oh. yeah. it's fine,” you murmured, your voice dropping an octave. “the theater stuff was just for a midterm project. it's over now. and friends... yeah, they're okay. we go to the diner near the campus sometimes.” it sounded dull. it sounded incredibly small compared to aerospace academies and survival training and flying through clouds.

sensing your sudden shift in mood but choosing not to press it, gideon just hummed, turning up the radio slightly.

you leaned back against the seat, suddenly feeling the distance between your body and the front of the car. with a slow movement, you pressed the button on the door panel, letting the window roll down all the way. 

you were going to see him in less than fifteen minutes. and for the first time in your life, you were terrified of what his smile might look like now.

with a restless groan, you shifted your weight, sliding down the leather until you were lying flat across the length of the backseat. you lifted your legs, balancing your heels against the rim of the lowered window frame, letting the rushing wind blow right over your bare toes. the bright summer sunlight hit your face in a sudden wash, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut as the shadows of roadside acacia trees flickered across your eyelids like a film strip.

gideon glanced back through the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. “what exactly is the strategy here? are we airing out your feet, or are you trying to slide out of the car entirely?”

“shh,” you muttered, not opening your eyes, just waving a hand dismissively in his general direction. “don't ruin the vibe, gideon. i'm getting into character. when we get there, i'm going to pretend to be asleep.”

“and why, pray tell, are we faking a coma?”

“because,” you mumbled, your voice dropping into a stubborn drone. “he's been gone for four years acting all professional and pilot-like. i'm not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me standing at the curb like an eager puppy. if i'm asleep, he has to wait for me to wake up.”

gideon let out an amused snort but didn't argue further, slowing the vehicle down as he navigated the chaotic entrance of the terminal. the air became a noisy symphony of sputtering engines, the loud barking of barkers calling out destinations, and the heavy hiss of bus brakes.

then, the car came to a full stop. the engine remained idling, its low vibration humming right through your spine as you lay flat on the seat.

you heard the tinny ring of gideon’s phone bridging the gap over the dashboard, followed by the click of the answer button. gideon didn't even put it to his ear; he just left it on speaker, the sound cutting through the air-conditioned cabin.

“yeah? where are you? i'm near the main exit, by the yellow bakery,” 

”oop, i see the car,” a voice replied.

that was caleb!

your breath hitched, catching sharply in your throat. it was him. it was caleb. even through the cheap, compressed audio of a phone speaker, there was no mistaking that specific cadence—that easy, slightly raspy, slow-rolling tone that always sounded like he was hiding a joke behind his teeth. it was exactly the same. 

“alright, hurry up. the traffic enforcer is already looking at me sideways,” gideon said, hanging up.

panic, sudden and entirely irrational, flared up under your ribs. you scrambled to pull your legs down from the window, tucking your knees slightly toward your chest, and threw your right arm over your eyes, effectively blocking out the blinding glare of the sun and the view of the front seats. you squeezed your eyelids shut until you saw spots, forcing your breathing to slow down. 

just act natural. you're asleep. you've been sleeping the whole ride.

the crunch of boots on gravel outside the car door was your only warning. and then, the front passenger door clicked and swung open. “hey!”

your heart nearly leaped right out of your chest. the sheer force of it hammered against your ribs so violently you were terrified he would actually hear it over the sound of everything else. you closed your eyes even tighter, your arm pressing down hard against your brow line. 

“man, you look like you survived a war,” gideon’s voice boomed, followed by the rustle of clothing as the two of them exchanged a brief half-hug across the console.

“more like two years of institutionalized sleep deprivation,” caleb replied, his voice much louder now, much closer, vibrating from the seat right in front of your head. the car door slammed shut with a heavy thud, sealing the three of you inside the quiet space.

there was a brief rustle of a duffel bag being shoved into the footwell, and then a sudden pause. you could feel the exact moment his attention shifted.

”is... she dead?” caleb asked, his tone dropping into that familiar, amused lilt.

“passed out about ten minutes ago,” gideon lied without a single hitch in his voice. god, you owed him a premium coffee for this. “she was buzzing around the house since five in the morning, then collapsed the second we hit the highway.”

a loaded silence descended upon the car as gideon shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb. you lay frozen, every muscle in your body stiff with the effort of remaining limp. you could feel caleb’s weight shifting in the front seat, the leather creaking slightly as he turned his upper body around to look back at you. 

even with your arm covering your face, you could feel the weight of his stare burning through the fabric of your sleeve.

then, a low huff of a laugh escaped him.

“silly girl,” caleb murmured, the word dripping with an irritatingly affectionate playfulness. “still a sleepyhead. some things really don't change, do they?”

gideon steered the car back onto the main road, the smooth roll of the tires replacing the chaotic noise of the terminal. “i don't know about that. she’s grown up quite a bit while you were gone, caleb. she’s not the little girl who used to cry when you stole her slippers anymore. she's at state uni now. got her own thing going on.”

there was another pause, a tiny stretch of time where the only sound was the hum of the engine.

“yeah,” caleb said, his voice shifting into a tone that was harder to read, more contemplative. “i can see that. she looks different.”

“don't let the height fool you, though,” gideon chuckled, glancing at the rearview mirror. “she’s still a menace. but yeah, you probably can't carry her around with one arm like you used to.”

“please, i can absolutely still carry her with one arm.” a fleshy slap echoed through the front seat—the sound of caleb smacking his own bicep or forearm or whatever to prove a point. “these muscles aren't just for show, gid. i could lift her and her bags without breaking a sweat.”

god, the urge to open your eyes was so overwhelming it was almost a physical ache in your chest. you wanted to throw your arm off your face, look at him, and tell him to shut his stupid mouth just like old times. you wanted to see exactly how broad his shoulders had gotten, wanted to see if his hair was still cut short and neat, wanted to see if that annoying, arrogant little smirk was plastered across his face. but the weight of your own realization—the sudden consciousness of him not just as caleb, but as a man who could effortlessly lift you—kept you completely pinned to the leather.

“whatever you say, pilot boy.” gideon laughed, shaking his head as he accelerated down the open road.

the comfortable rhythm of their conversation was broken by the sharp click of gideon’s turn signal. the car slowed down, veering off the main highway and pulling up.

“alright, cay, this is me,” gideon unbuckles his seatbelt with a crisp click. “i need to drop by this studio for that project archive i told you about. you take the wheel from here. just park the car back at granny's house when you guys get back.”

“yeah, sure. no problem,” 

wait, what?

gideon was leaving? 

panic flared up again as you stayed perfectly still, listening intently to the rustle of clothes, the sound of gideon opening the passenger door, and the heavy thud of his boots hitting the gravel outside. there was a brief exchange of instructions—gideon reminding caleb about a loose wire near the stereo dashboard—and then the driver’s side door opened. the car dipped slightly under a new weight as caleb slid effortlessly into the driver's seat.

the door slammed shut. the heavy, reassuring presence of gideon was gone, replaced entirely by caleb’s proximity.

he adjusted the seat, sliding it back a few inches to accommodate his longer legs. then, the car smoothly pulled back onto the road. and god, the silence that followed was deafening. without gideon’s easygoing banter filling the cabin, the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the rush of the wind through your open window.

should you open your eyes now? if you wake up now, it'll look natural. just a casual yawn, and—

a subtle tug pulled at the crown of your head.

it wasn't painful. it was incredibly light. you felt a hand reaching over the center console, two fingers winding carefully around a single stray strand of your hair, giving it a teasing little pull.

your eyes flew open.

through the gap between the front seats, you finally saw him—caleb driving effortlessly with his right hand on the steering wheel, his left hand extended backward over the armrest with his thumb and index finger still lightly holding the end of your hair. he didn't even look back at you; his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.

but his eyes flicked upward, locking onto yours through the rearview mirror.

the corners of his eyes crinkled instantly, breaking into that utterly familiar expression. that lazy, arrogant, beautiful smile spread across his lips.

“got a good sleep, pips? your gege's back now.”

the nickname—the one he used to demand you call him when you were kids just to annoy you—should have earned him an immediate eye-roll or a sharp kick to the back of his seat. but you couldn't even bring yourself to reply. your tongue felt thick, glued to the roof of your mouth.

you just stared, agape, taking him in for the first time in four whole years.

he looked like a man.

caleb's eyes flicked up to the mirror again, catching the exact moment your gaze drifted from his face down to his shoulders, and then back up. your wide-eyed, breathless silence was loud. too loud.

for a split second, the easy smirk on caleb’s face faltered. his prominent adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, a sudden patch of color rising along his neck. he cleared his throat, a slightly tense sound, and quickly looked back at the road, his fingers letting go of your hair as he pulled his hand back to the steering wheel.

“what's with the face?” he asked, trying hard to force that casual lilt back into his tone. “you look like you've seen a ghost.”

you quickly sat up, pulling your legs inward and smoothing down your shirt, desperately trying to find your footing. “you look different, that's all. the academy must be starving you if you've gone all that just to survive.”

“starving? please. they feed us like racehorses,” caleb scoffed, though the response felt a little rehearsed, a little too quick as he kept his eyes glued strictly on the asphalt ahead. “but thanks for noticing. glad to know my hard work isn't lost on a provincial girl like you.”

you leaned your cheek against your hand, looking out the side window to hide the heat rushing into your own face. 

somehow, the conversation didn't go the way you had scripted it in your head over the last four years. you hadn't greeted each other like two people who had spent their entire lives attached at the hip, starved for each other's presence. there were no desperate questions, no breathy laughter, no clumsy, overwhelming hugs that left you smelling like his cologne.

instead, you were simply staring out the side window, watching the green expanse of the provincial rice fields blur into a smear of dusty emerald, and then he was simply driving. 

“so, state u,” caleb started, “gran says you're keeping busy. how's the actual college life treating you?”

“it's fine,” you replied, your voice matching his even tone. you kept your eyes fixed on a passing billboard outside. “it's a lot of reading, but my blockmates are nice. i usually hang out with maya and javi after our afternoon lectures. we found this cheap diner near the campus that serves really good sizzling meat.”

“maya and javi,” caleb repeated, testing the names on his tongue as if trying to fit them into the map of your life. he nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the road. “that's good. it's good that you found your crowd.”

“mm. javi's in the theater crew too, so we usually walk home together when rehearsals run late.” you added, offering the detail up like a shield.

why did it end up like this? why did the air between you feel so thick, so cautious, as if a single wrong word would shatter a boundary neither of you had openly acknowledged yet?

“what about you?” you asked, trying to sound completely nonchalant, keeping your gaze trained on the side mirror. “must be nice up at the academy. you probably have a whole new circle of pilot friends.”

“yeah. the guys in my barracks are solid. we complain about the flight instructors together. it keeps us sane.”

and then, that's where it happened.

“any... girls?” the word slipped out of your mouth a little too smoothly, a little too practiced. “i mean, the uniform probably does half the work for you up there.”

the car went starkly silent. 

caleb didn't answer right away. he shifted his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening just a fraction before he relaxed them. it took a long drawn-out pause for him to reply.

finally, a gentle smile spread across his face—but it wasn't his usual mischievous smirk. 

“yeah,” caleb said quietly, his eyes softening as he looked out at the highway ahead. “actually, there is. i've got a pretty massive crush on someone from the nursing college nearby. i'm planning on courting her this coming semester.”

oh. okay.

you didn't say anything for a moment, letting the sound of his confession hang in the air between you like heavy smoke.

”that's nice. good luck with that.”

wanting nothing more than to disappear into the upholstery, you leaned further back against the leather of the seat. and you lifted your legs again, resting your ankles on the open window frame just like you had earlier. you stared straight into the blinding, white-hot summer sunlight, letting the glare sting your eyes until they watered, using the heat as an excuse for the burning sensation behind your eyelids.

college really is horrible. it really does change everything and everyone, doesn't it? it takes the boy who used to swear he'd never care about anyone more than you, sends him away for four years, and brings back a stranger who belongs to someone else.

you watched the provincial scenery go into a blurring motion as caleb pressed down on the accelerator, speed being his only response to the quiet.

suddenly, caleb cleared his throat, a nervous cough breaking the quiet. “what about you, pips? you mentioned that javi guy. do you... have a boyfriend now?”

you blinked, your eyes still stinging from the sunlight. you didn't even have to think about it. “no.”

within minutes, caleb steered the car smoothly up the gravel driveway of granny's home, pulling up right under the shade of the large mango tree. the engine died with a final, shuddering purr, leaving only the loud clicking of the cicadas in the backyard to fill the space.

you kept your ankles resting on the window frame, your eyes closed against the light.

then, you heard the rustle of caleb's heavy duffel bag being pulled from the footwell, and the solid thud of his boots hitting the gravel. but instead of walking straight to the house, the sound of his footsteps looped around to your side of the car.

a shadow suddenly fell over your face, blocking out the harsh heat of the sun.

you opened your eyes a fraction, only to see that caleb was leaning his arms against the window frame, his broad shoulders completely framing the opening. he looked down at you, a golden-boy smile playing on his lips.

“we're here, sleepyhead,” his voice still carried that warmth that used to make you feel so safe, but now it just felt like salt on an open wound. “aren't you coming out? granny’s probably already waiting at the door.”

you quickly averted your gaze, looking past his shoulder at the porch of the house, avoiding his eyes entirely.

“you go ahead.”

—

the heavy heat of mid-afternoon had dissolved by the time your eyes fluttered open, replaced by the long-shadowed stillness of late gold. 

you groaned, a sharp ache radiating through your lower back and neck from the impossibly cramped angle you’d been knotted into across the backseat. four hours. you had actually managed to pass out for four hours in the belly of a dead car.

you pushed the heavy car door open, your thin slippers slapping against the gravel as you stepped out into the humid yard. stretching your arms over your head until your joints popped, you shook out your numb legs, half-hopping, half-limping your way up the porch steps and pulling the screen door open with a lazy rattle.

the house was strangely quiet.

“granny?” you called out, your voice still thick and raspy from sleep. no answer. you tilted your head, wandering past the dark living room where the old wooden rocking chair sat still, and followed a faint metallic clinking toward the kitchen.

when you stepped over the threshold, the words caught squarely in your throat.

caleb, completely shirtless, bent over the kitchen sink with his back turned to you. a chaotic battlefield of rusty wrenches, tattered rags, and rolls of teflon tape were scattered all over the tiled countertop beside him. he was clearly deep-cleaning the drain and trying to muscle a stubborn leaking pipe back into place, his skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat that caught the amber sunset filtering through the small window.

from this angle, the reality of how much he had changed hit you like a physical blow. but it was when he leaned further down into the cabinet under the sink that your eyes inevitably landed on the silver chain hanging from his neck, the metal dogtag swinging loosely against his collarbone.

you swallowed hard, forcing your gaze upward, and cleared your throat loudly to break the spell. “where's granny?”

the sudden interruption made caleb flinch violently, his entire torso jerking upward in surprise as the back of his head collided with the edge of the upper cabinet.

“ouch!” 

”clumsy idiot.” you muttered.

caleb slowly turned around, still wincing, and looked up at you from his crouched position. you caught the distinct, deliberate way his gaze traveled down your frame—taking in your post-nap hair, your dumb shirt, and your bare legs—before flicking back up to settle on your face. the intensity of it lasted only a fraction of a second before his easy golden-boy mask slid right back into place.

“granny went down the road,” he casually leaned his hip against the counter, completely unbothered by his lack of a shirt. “visited mrs. alvarez or someone. said she’d be back before dinner.”

trying to appear completely casual, you walked past him, keeping a careful radius of distance between your shoulder and his bare chest, and opened the refrigerator door. the cool air hit your face as you grabbed the heavy glass pitcher of water.

“look who finally decided to join the land of the living,” caleb watched you pull a glass from the cupboard. “four hours, pipsqueak? i was about to check if you still had a pulse. you sleep like a log.”

you poured the water, keeping your back to him as you scoffed. “i had to make up for the four years of peace and quiet i'm about to lose now that you're back to annoy me.”

behind you, caleb let out a bright, boyish laugh—the kind of chesty sound that filled the entire room and made him look exactly like the sixteen-year-old boy you grew up with. 

“yeah, yeah, keep talking...” chuckling, he wipes his sweaty brow with the back of his forearm. he leaned closer to the table, his eyes shining with a sudden eager spark. “hey, are you free tomorrow? they opened that new amusement park by the bypass road while i was gone. i was thinking we could go. just the two of us, like old times.”

you raised the glass to your lips, using the movement to buy yourself time as his words settled heavily in your stomach. like old times. but it wouldn't be like old times. not with him looking like this, and certainly not with a nursing student waiting for him up north.

you set the glass down on the counter with a soft click, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before looking at him. “can't tomorrow. i already have somewhere to go with a friend.”

“a friend?” his brow furrowed, a deep line cutting between his eyes as he stared at you. “since when did you choose a friend over me?”

the confusion on his face was almost comical, because it was a look you knew intimately—the look caleb gave whenever the universe didn't bend to his precise specifications. it was intensely ironic, a hypocritical double standard that made you want to scream. he could go off to the city, rebuild his entire life, and find a nursing student to court, but the second you had a life outside of this gravel driveway, the rules suddenly changed?

“just a friend from state u.” you said airily, turning on your heel and walking out of the kitchen. “you're not the only one who got a change of scenery, caleb. i’m all grown up now. i actually have a life and people outside of this house.”

you hear the heavy, silent thud of his bare feet following you, the sheer mass of him trailing you into the small living room like a shadow you couldn't shake. you threw yourself onto the worn-out fabric of the sofa, grabbing the dusty remote control to click the television on.

instead of sitting down on the opposite armchair, caleb came to a halt right at the edge of the sofa, looming over you. he crossed his arms over his bare chest, his shadow completely blocking out the remaining amber light of the sunlight.

“i'm serious,” he muttered, carrying that infuriatingly paternal tone he used whenever he wanted to control a situation. “don't go hanging out with people alone just that easily. you're too trusting. the city might be a mess, but the town isn't exactly a sanctuary either. shit is unpredictable, and people have motives.”

you let out an incredulous laugh, snapping your head up to look at him. 

“you should know that if you’re a grown up as you claim to be.“ caleb added.

you raised a single eyebrow, your lips curling into a mocking smile. “what are you implying, then? that you still need to protect me? that i can't handle a simple afternoon coffee without my big, strong gege holding my hand?”

caleb’s eyes narrowed, a dark glint flickering in his irises. “should i not? just because we were apart for a couple of years doesn't mean you get to be careless. you've always been too stubborn for your own good.”

“yeah, well, you should not.” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you turned your attention back to the television screen, where a loud game show was playing to an empty audience. “i'm [age] years old, caleb. i am quite literally not a kid anymore. so stop acting like a hypocrite when you're the one who—”

“let’s test that theory.”

before the breath could even leave your lungs, the cushion beside you sank violently. caleb lunged forward with a terrifying fluidity that you had never seen from him before. your brain didn't even have time to process the movement before the heavy, solid weight of his knees dug brutally into the foam of the sofa, effectively pinning the fabric down on either side of your hips.

in a fraction of a second, you were completely trapped. he had closed the distance so aggressively that you were locked between his thighs, his massive shirtless chest looming inches from your face.

“wait—what the hell!” you gasped, your hands flying up in a knee-jerk reaction to push him back, but caleb's hands shot forward, his fingers wrapping around your wrists with an unyielding grip. he didn't squeeze enough to hurt, but the absolute finality of his hold made it clear you weren't going anywhere. a slow incredibly wicked smirk spread across his lips then.

“see?” caleb murmured, leaning down just an inch closer, his hot breath fanning across your cheeks, smelling faintly of the mint gum he'd been chewing. “you couldn't even move before i did this. you can't even defend yourself, you silly girl. that means you still need me to protect you.”

up close, the heat radiating off his bare skin was intoxicating, a musky warmth that seemed to fill your entire throat. you could see the tiny pulse point fluttering at the base of his neck, right above where his silver dogtags hung, dangling loosely and brushing against your collarbone.

“you're a cheater,” you hissed. “this is a cheap shot!”

“it's a reality check,” his grip on your wrists tightened just a fraction, a wordless challenge. “tell you what. if you manage to dislodge me—if you can actually get out from under me right now—then i'll let myself believe that you aren't a kid anymore. i'll let you go on your little date tomorrow without a single word.”

“it's not a date!” you yelled, the denial tearing out of you with a sudden heat. alright, if a game of strength was what he wanted to play to prove his stupid, masculine dominance, you were going to give it to him. you knew caleb. you knew how he moved, or at least, you thought you did.

”and fine. if that's what you want, you're going to get it.”

with a swift movement, you bucked your hips upward, twisting your wrists sharply against the grain of his thumbs—a self-defense trick he had ironically taught you himself when you were fifteen. the sudden, biting leverage worked; caleb's grip slipped, his hands sliding off your skin with a faint gasp of surprise.

“ha!” you celebrated, a triumphant grin breaking across your face as you immediately reached up, your palms slamming against his broad bare shoulders to shove him off the couch.

but you had vastly underestimated your gege.

before your arms could fully extend to deliver the push, caleb utilized your own momentum against you. leaning his entire weight forward, his chest slammed into yours, knocking the wind right out of your lungs as he drove your back deep into the cushions. in the same breath, his hands caught your forearms mid-air, pinning them flat against the back of the sofa.

a loud, frustrated groan escaped your throat as your knuckles hit the fabric.

“you're cheating!” you wheezed, your legs twisting beneath his thighs, trying to find some purchase, some leverage to kick him off, but his lower body was like an anchor. “caleb, let go! in a game like this, you obviously have the advantage, you giant idiot!”

“i told you,” caleb chuckled, his chest vibrating directly against yours. the sensation of his hard pectoral muscles pressing into your softness was a sudden jolt that made your entire body go completely rigid. “those flight drills aren't just for show. you're slow, pips. you're losing your touch.”

“i am not slow!” you argued as you thrashed beneath him. you tried to wrench your left arm free, but caleb simply slid his fingers down to lace tightly through yours, pinning your hand flat against the sofa pillow.

every time you writhed to escape him, your bodies rubbed together in a way that made your skin feel like it was on fire. the friction of his denim jeans against your bare legs, the heavy slide of his chest against yours, the tight, hot grip of his fingers tangled in yours—it was completely overwhelming. caleb had stopped laughing. his breath was coming in shorter, heavier gasps now, his chest rising and falling in a ragged rhythm that mirrored your own frantic respiration.

“let... me... go,” you panted, but he stayed hovering over you, his broad shoulders completely blocking out the rest of the living room, effectively reducing your entire universe to just him. his gaze dragged slowly down from your eyes, lingering on your parted lips, before rising back up to look into your pupils with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with a childhood bond. 

“make me.”

his hips shifted just a fraction, a subtle pressure against yours that made your heart completely halt in your chest. “tell me you don't need me anymore. say it like you mean it, and maybe i'll think about letting you up.”

if you couldn't get him off of you with pure physical force, then you might as well use your words. you needed a distraction, something so inherently mundane and unsexy.

you swallowed hard.

“caleb,” you muttered, your voice hesitant. “i... i need to pee.”

caleb blinked. 

for a second, he just stared at you, his chest still rising and falling raggedly against yours. then, slowly, he began to relax the iron grip on your wrists, gently pushing his torso back to give you some breathing room.

is it working? a tiny sigh of relief bubbled in your chest. that worked, didn't it?

“hold it in.”

your eyes widened instantly. the sigh of relief died in your throat. what the fuck?!

you gasped inaudibly, your body going completely rigid all over again. instead of getting off the couch like a normal person, caleb simply shifted his weight above you. he let go of your hands entirely, but he just slid his knees slightly to the side, repositioning himself so he was hovering over you at a slight angle.

”do you remember when we were younger? whenever you felt like peeing, what did i make you do?”

your face burned a furious, hot crimson. you knew exactly what he was talking about. back when you were a pre-teen, you had a lot of difficulty with that—a stubborn, painful urinary retention issue that made you miserable during long car rides or summer afternoons. caleb, being the overprotective problem-solving idiot he was, had researched it in some random medical forum and forced a habit on you: he made you press firmly on your lower abdomen, right above the bladder, hold it tightly for ten seconds to stimulate the muscles, and then rush to the bathroom to let it out. it always worked.

but that was when you were kids. 

doing that right now, with a shirtless muscular caleb hovering right between your thighs, felt entirely indecent. the innocent childhood routine had suddenly been warped into something thick with a strange intimacy...

“what the fuck?” you cussed under your breath, your voice shaking as you glared at him. “let me up, caleb. i'm serious.”

caleb didn't react to the swearing. his expression remained entirely unbothered, his jaw ticking slightly as he stared down at your flushed face. he was completely serious.

“hold it in,” he repeated. “then press on it with your hand for ten seconds.” he paused, his eyes narrowing as he scanned your face. “unless... you don't have difficulty with it anymore? you can just do it without the routine now?”

to be honest, you still had that exact same problem. the childhood difficulty hadn't magically disappeared, and the trick caleb had drilled into you was a literal physical habit you had been doing ever since. it was a secret piece of your daily life that still belonged to him, even after four years apart.

but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. you remained completely speechless, your lips parted. 

caleb studied your silence for a beat longer, the corner of his mouth twitching with a shadow of that knowing smirk.

“nevermind.” 

he suddenly slid his legs off the sofa and stood back up to his full height. the sudden rush of cool air where his body had just been made you feel instantly cold, exposed. caleb reached down, casually ruffling your messy hair with a quick hand, before turning on his heel.

“i should go back to fixing the sink back there before granny gets home,” he walked beyond the living room threshold, his bare feet padding softly against the wood. “go pee, pips,” he called out over his shoulder before his voice faded into the kitchen.

now you were left lying there on the cushions, entirely silent.

—

the next morning brought no relief from the heat; if anything, the humidity had thickened overnight, settling over the house like a damp woolen blanket by eight o’clock. you woke up with your skin already tacky, your hair plastered to the nape of your neck, and your mind instantly pivoting to the afternoon ahead. today was the day you were supposed to meet your friend from state u at the town plaza, and the mere thought of sitting in a crowded bus while looking unwashed was enough to make you drag your feet out of bed with a sense of urgency.

grabbing your clean clothes and a towel, you padded barefoot into the indoor bathroom, ready to submerge yourself in the shock of cold water. you twisted the plastic knob of the shower faucet.

nothing.

not even a rusty trickle. 

you frowned, turning it all the way until the plastic creaked, but the pipes only answered with a mocking hiss.

ugh, caleb.

he had been elbow-deep in the plumbing just yesterday evening, claiming he was deep-cleaning and repairing the lines, and now the entire bathroom was bone-dry. he had probably shut off the main valve or misaligned the pressure tubes with his supposed logistical training.

with a frustrated huff, you realized your choices were entirely limited. you couldn't wait for granny to get back from the market to fix it, and you certainly weren't going to knock on caleb’s bedroom door to ask him for a favor after the suffocating display on the living room sofa.

there was only one alternative.

you shed your clothes and reached for a thin cotton sarong with a batik pattern that had grown incredibly soft from years of granny running it through the wash. you wrapped the fabric tight around your chest, tucking the edge securely over your breasts, and gathered your shampoo, soap, and a plastic basin. 

if the modern plumbing was compromised, you’d have to do it the old-fashioned way.

the backyard was a secluded narrow strip of land shielded from the neighbors by a dense, unruly wall of trees and overgrown leaves. tucked into the furthest corner, sitting on a moss-slick concrete slab, was the old manual pump-well. the heavy iron looked ancient, its dark blue paint peeling away to reveal patches of orange rust, a relic from your childhood that hadn't been fully utilized since granny got the indoor electric pump installed years ago.

you set your basin down on the concrete and approached the pump, wrapping your fingers around the long iron handle.

you pushed down, and the lever didn't even budge.

“hnggggh!” you tried again, putting your entire weight into it, your slippers sliding slightly on the mossy concrete as you forced the iron arm upward to prime the cylinder. a screeching groan echoed from the metal throat of the pump, a sound so loud it felt like it was tearing through the quiet morning. your breath caught, your chest heaving against the tight tuck of the sarong as you pumped frantically, trying to coax the groundwater up through the dry valves. a bead of sweat rolled down from your temple, tracing a hot line down your neck as you struggled, your face flushing with a mix of physical exertion and mounting frustration.

“you're going to break your back doing it like that.”

your hands froze on the lever as you whipped your head around, your heart doing a sudden flip against your ribs that had absolutely nothing to do with the heavy lifting.

woah.

caleb looked like he had just walked straight out of a sports commercial—wearing a gray athletic tank top that clung to the damp contours of his chest and black gym shorts that showed off the lean, powerful definition of his thighs. his skin was flushed a warm pink, covered in a fine glistening sheen of sweat with a white towel slung carelessly around his neck.

he took a slow step into your space, his eyes tracking the frantic rise and fall of your chest beneath the thin cotton fabric of the sarong. his gaze flicked from your flushed cheeks, down to your strained shoulders, and finally settled on the rusted handle of the pump-well.

“just got back from a five-kilometer loop around the bypass road,” he tilted his head, a small smirk beginning to tug at the corner of his lips as he took in your disheveled state. “and i come back to find my pipsqueak fighting a piece of old iron. let me guess—the bathroom pipes aren't cooperating?”

“yeah, because of you.” 

you pointed an accusing finger at his chest. “you were the one messing with the plumbing yesterday, caleb. i don't know what kind of aerospace engineering logic you applied to granny’s bathroom, but it's completely dry. so yes, the pipes aren't cooperating because you broke them.”

caleb didn't even have the decency to look guilty. 

he just stood there, the corner of his mouth twitching upward into an intensely sarcastic smile that made you want to kick his shins. he listened to your scolding with an amused quiet indulgence, like he was watching a small kitten hiss at him through a window.

how annoying. 

he didn't even offer an excuse. instead, he took a sudden step forward into your space. “calm down, let me help you.”

instinctively, your heels slid back against the mossy concrete, your arms crossing tightly over the knot of your sarong to keep it secure against your chest. but caleb wasn't looking at you—not yet. his eyes were on the rusted blue lever. he brushed past you, his sun-warmed shoulder cutting through your personal bubble, and wrapped his large hand around the iron handle right where yours had been just seconds ago.

and within two pumps, a thick gushing stream of crystal-clear groundwater burst from the spout, splashing loudly into the plastic basin below.

it was going alright now, thankfully. 

you stood a step back, your tongue tucked behind your teeth as you tried to look anywhere but at him. but you couldn't help it. your eyes inevitably traced the flexion of his bicep every time he pulled the lever.

and then—splat!

caleb pushed the lever down too fast, and a full burst of water caught the edge of the basin, ricocheting straight up and hitting you square in the face.

“hey!” the freezing groundwater immediately drenched your forehead, eyelashes, and cheeks, running down the front of your neck and soaking the top line of your cotton sarong.

caleb froze instantly. the sarcastic smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden wide-eyed look of genuine panic. “oh—oops, i'm sorry,” he frantically dropped the iron handle and reached out with both hands, his white gym towel already bunching in his fingers. “i didn't mean to torque it that hard. are you okay? did it get in your nose?”

as a payback, you didn't even give him the chance to wipe your face. before he could step closer with the towel, you lunged downward, scooping a palmful of the freezing water straight out of the filled basin and throwing it upward with a vindictive flick of your wrist.

splat!

the water slapped caleb right across the jaw and eyes, head snapping back in surprise before he shook it aggressively from side to side—exactly like a wet golden retriever trying to shake off a bath—sending a spray of droplets flying from the wet strands of his hair.

he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, a boyish grin breaking through his wet features.

“serves you right.”

“alright, fair enough,” he chuckled, his voice dropping back into that rumbling cadence as he looked down at you.

then, his eyes flicked past your shoulder, landing on the small plastic tray sitting on the concrete slab—the bottle of shampoo, the bar of soap, and the clean towel you had neatly laid out. 

“so,” caleb leaned one hand against the cool iron body of the pump, his gaze tracking a slow line from the soap back up to your wet face. “are you getting all washed up and pretty for that day out with your friend?”

you lifted your chin, “yup, i am.”

caleb’s grin hardened, freezing into a rigid imitation of a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

the silence of the backyard rushed back in, thick and suffocating, punctuated only by the rhythmic drip... drip... drip of the water from the spout into the overflowing basin.

“right,” his eyes tracked a slow path down to the wet fabric of your sarong. the thin cotton had absorbed the splash, turning translucent where it clung tightly to the curve of your chest and the dip of your waist. “the friend from state u. the one you walk home with?”

“javi,” you reached up, squeezing the excess water out of your hair strands, letting the drops splash onto the concrete between your feet. “we're going to the plaza. he wants to check out this old second-hand bookstore, and then we're getting dinner.”

“dinner?” caleb repeated, the word sounding flat, heavy, like a stone dropped into mud. “sounds like a lot of effort for a casual classmate.”

“he's not just a classmate, caleb. he's my best friend at university,” you stepped forward, intending to pick up your shampoo bottle, but caleb didn't move an inch. his broad shoulder remained firmly in your line of sight. “now, if you're done breaking things and splashing me, can you continue pumping the water so i can actually wash my hair? i'm going to be late.”

caleb looked at you for a long unreadable beat. then, a familiar smirk began to pull at the corner of his lips—but it was different this time. it was the calculating version of his smile, the one he wore right before he flipped a chessboard.

“sure, anything for my pipsqueak.”

he reached down, wrapping his fingers around the iron handle again, and began to pump. but he didn't do it quickly. he did it with a slow, agonizingly steady rhythm.

“you know, it's just a bit funny. four years away, and the first thing you do when i get back is run off to the city with some guy i’ve never met. makes a guy feel a little replaced.”

“you weren't replaced,” you muttered, leaning over the basin to scoop up some water to wet your hair, the movement causing your sarong to stretch tight across your back. “you left. there's a difference. you went to the academy, you got your own life, your own barracks... your own nursing student.”

the words slipped out before you could stop them, bitter and sharp.

“what did you say?” 

“i said you have your own life,” you repeated stubbornly, forcing yourself to straighten up and look him in the eye. “so don't act like i'm the one breaking rules here. go save your overprotective routine for the girl from the nursing college. she's... the one you're planning to court, right?”

the iron handle came to a sudden dead stop.

the water ceased its gushing, reducing to a trickling stream that dripped lazily into the basin. 

instead of shooting back with a witty remark, caleb simply averted his gaze. his long eyelashes fluttered as he blinked rapidly, his eyes tracking a random crack on the wet concrete slab. for the first time since he stepped out of that terminal, he looked... guilty. 

almost... shameful?

“what, lost your tongue?” you straightened up from the basin, squeezing the wet fabric of your sarong tighter over your chest. 

“you stand here lecturing me about hanging out with a friend, acting like you’re still my overprotective—ugh, i don't even know, when you’re literally planning to bring a new girl home next semester.” you purse your lips together, but it's too late to stop now. “you're such a hypocrite, caleb. go save your little 'hold it in' routines and your grand muscle displays for your precious nursing student. see if she actually tolerates your stupid, suffocating mind games, because frankly, i am so sick of hearing about how much you're moving on while i'm just supposed to sit here and—”

you cut yourself off, the words freezing in your throat. your heart did a violent terrifying drop into your stomach. 

fuck.

you had just said entirely too much. the stinging venom in your voice hadn't sounded like a childhood best friend being annoyed; it had sounded like a deeply bitter jealous girl who was bleeding all over the concrete.

caleb's head snapped back up. the guilt in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sudden wide-eyed look of absolute shock. he swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing sharply as he stared at your face.

“there... is no nursing student,” 

you paused. “huh?”

“i-i made her up,” caleb admitted.

”i invented her the exact second i got into the car yesterday. because you were looking at me like i was just a distant cousin.” he takes a deep breath, eyes wandering away while he furrowed his eyebrows. “you were so casual, so polite, talking about your university and your blockmates like my four years away didn't even matter to you. i got... i got terrified. i thought you completely outgrew me.”

and then, his eyes went back to yours. ”i've never even had the thought to get a girlfriend. i haven't looked at another girl that way since the day i left this hometown.”

you stood frozen in utter surprise, your mind completely blanking out. what the hell? your hands numbed against the cotton of your sarong, your mouth opening slightly but no sound coming out. how were you even supposed to react to that? the chess piece you thought he was playing to move on from you was nothing but a sick desperate lie to get a reaction out of you...

caleb let out a ragged sigh, a bitter self-deprecating chuckle rumbled deep in his bare chest. he looked down at his own wet gym shoes, shaking his head. “i'm such an idiot. i spent four actual years up at that academy staring at flight panels, thinking about nothing else other than coming back home to this house, to you... and just holding you in my arms all over again. but gideon's right. college really did a number on us. you have your own world now.”

he looked you straight in the eye then, his irises dark, intense, and swimming with a vulnerability that completely stripped him bare. “and i just... i missed—”

he stopped himself mid-sentence. 

his jaw tensed, eyelids blinking rapidly as a sudden crimson blush bloomed furiously across his cheeks and spread down to his neck. he bit his lower lip, tearing his gaze away from your face and looking out toward the dense wall of trees.

your heart was now hammering so violently against your ribs you were certain he could see it lifting the thin fabric of your sarong.

“i was scared too,” you whispered, breaking the quiet before you could lose your nerve.

caleb’s head snapped back toward you, his eyes wide.

and you clenched your own fists against your thighs, keeping your eyes trained firmly on the concrete between your feet, too shy to meet his gaze. “the only reason i was acting like that in the car... was because i thought you came back as a stranger. you got so big, and you looked so different, and then you started talking about that girl... and i just thought you didn't need me anymore.” you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

”all this time, caleb... i missed you. so much.”

there it was, laid out in the open.

caleb’s eyes widened in absolute awe, his breath catching so loudly in his throat it sounded like a gasp. he could do nothing else but to stare down at you, his chest heaving silently beneath his gray tank top.

but then—shreek!

the metal screech of the front gates swinging open suddenly cut through the heavy quiet, the sharp sound making the both of you flinch and snap your heads toward the driveway at the exact same time.

that must be granny.

just like that, your confession was left hanging in the damp morning air, completely cut off as you both went inside the house with granny's slow footsteps shuffling into view. she was carrying two heavy plastic bags filled with mangoes and avocadoes from the early market, her small frame leaning slightly to the side from the weight.

“oh, you're both awake,” granny mumbled, her voice carrying its usual sleepy cadence.

without a word, caleb fell back into his dutiful grandson role, though his face was still flushed a light pink. 

he stepped away from you, his large frame moving quickly to take the heavy bags from her hands. you swallowed the lump in your throat and followed him into the kitchen, desperately trying to smooth down the edges of your cotton sarong so you didn't look as completely disheveled as you felt.

the two of you stood by the kitchen counter, casually helping her arrange the fruits into the wicker basket. every time your fingers accidentally brushed against his while reaching for a mango, an awkward jolt went straight up your arm. 

granny paused, placing a hand on her hip as she looked at you funnily. “why do you have a sarong on this early? and your hair is wet.”

“the bathroom pipes aren't working, granny,” you explained quickly, your voice a little too high. “i was trying to use the pump-well outside.”

“ah, that old thing,” granny sighed, shaking her head and failing to notice the suffocating tension between you and caleb. “caleb, i told you to fix that last night. look what you did to your sister.”

caleb didn't say anything, just let out a small hum, his throat bobbing as he placed the last avocado in the basket.

“well, i'm quite tired from the walk,” granny rubs her lower back as she turned toward the stairs. “i'm going to take a short nap. caleb, come upstairs for a bit and help me find my maintenance meds in the cabinet. my eyes are too blurry today.”

“yes, gran. i'll be right up,” caleb replied without a single second of hesitation.

he finally turned his head to look at you as granny started her slow climb up the wooden steps. his eyes were still heavy with everything you both had just admitted out by the well, but he couldn't stay. he gave you one unreadable look before turning on his heel, his broad back disappearing up the staircase behind her.

and then, you were just standing there alone in the quiet kitchen.

in a wet sarong. without a proper bath.

fuck's sake.

you let out a long breath, your shoulders slumping as the reality of the situation hit you. your skin felt sticky from the groundwater, your hair was damp and tangled, and you were supposed to meet javi at the plaza later. with the bathroom completely dry and caleb occupied upstairs, a real shower was out of the question now.

muttering a curse under your breath, you walked back to your room, peeling the damp translucent cotton off your skin. you were forced to just wipe yourself down with a dry towel and change back into your casual home clothes.

knock. knock.

“you in there?“

caleb’s voice bled through the thin wood of the door, the sudden wrap of knuckles against your bedroom  making you jump half a foot in the air. you quickly smoothed down the front of your fresh t-shirt, took a shaky breath to steady the frantic drumming in your chest, and pulled the door open.

caleb had finally put on a new shirt—a slightly faded black tee that somehow made his broad shoulders look even more intimidating in the cramped hallway—but he was standing there completely awkwardly. his hands were shoved deep into his gym shorts pockets, his elbows jutting out slightly, and he was deliberately looking at a framed vintage cross-stitch on the wall instead of looking at you. a faint, lingering trace of that dark crimson blush was still dusting the tips of his ears.

“uh, yeah?“ 

caleb cleared his throat, his adam's apple bobbing before he finally shifted his gaze down to meet your eyes.

“granny... uh, gran told me to get the bathroom pipes sorted before she wakes up from her nap,” caleb muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “she said since i was the one who messed them up, i have to fix them right now. but i... i need an extra pair of hands to hold the wrench from the other side of the basin valve.”

he paused, his eyes searching yours with a quiet hesitant look.

“come help me, please?”

—

the bathroom felt smaller than it ever had before. 

you stood right over him, bare feet pressed against the cool porcelain of the floorboards, holding a heavy roll of teflon tape and a pair of rusted pliers in your hands. caleb was sitting flat on the floor, his long legs bent awkwardly in the tight space between the toilet bowl and the lower basin cabinetry.

neither of you spoke.

every rustle of his clothing, every heavy breath he exhaled, and every metallic click of his wrench against the pipe joint sounded like a damn gunshot in the cramped room.

your thumb kept sliding over the screen of your phone, lighting up the lock screen to check the digital clock. it was getting closer to the afternoon. 

caleb noticed. even though his head was tucked beneath the porcelain basin, his shoulders went completely rigid the third time your phone screen illuminated the dim corner of the room.

then, the scraping sound of the wrench died out. caleb remained perfectly still for a long beat, his forehead resting lightly against the cold underside of the sink as if he were gathering a desperate amount of courage. slowly, he pulled himself back, his broad shoulders clearing the cabinet door as he looked up at you.

“are you...” caleb's voice cracked slightly before he cleared his throat, forcing the gravelly pitch down. “are you still going to the city with your friend?” he reached for the valve handle, his long fingers wrapping around the plastic knob with a hesitation that was entirely uncharacteristic of him.

the question was asked way too softly, way too hesitantly. he sounded small.

you froze, the roll of teflon tape slipping a fraction of an inch between your fingers. the truth was, the second those words had left your mouth by the backyard well—the second you had admitted that you spent four years missing him in the quiet of your bedroom—you had already resolved to cancel the day out. you didn't want to go to the plaza. you didn't want to browse second-hand books or eat dinner across from javi while your skin was still burning from caleb's touch.

but as you looked down at caleb’s upturned face, at the raw vulnerable waiting in his eyes...

“yes, i'm still going.”

why did you say it? you didn't even know. maybe it was a reflex, a desperate attempt to rebuild the walls he had so easily torn down out by the well. maybe you were terrified of what would happen if you stayed here alone with him while granny slept outside.

caleb didn't flare up. he didn't snap or offer a sarcastic remark. he just let out a low quiet hum, nodding his head twice as his eyes dropped back down to the plastic valve.

his reaction wasn't what you expected, and it made the hollow ache in your chest widen into something unbearable. what was supposed to happen now? were you both really going to sit here in the bathroom and pretend like you hadn't just shattered the childhood boundary? were you going to act like you hadn't confessed to missing him until it hurt?

“pips,” caleb said, his tone entirely too polite while he reached his hand upward without looking. “hand me the pliers. and... crawl down here for a second. i need you to hold the main pipe line steady while i tighten this last bolt, or the pressure's going to crack the plastic again.”

“okay,” you murmured instantly, doing exactly as you were told. you dropped the teflon tape onto the lid of the toilet and crouched down beside him.

the space was incredibly cramped. 

caleb's position lied flat on his back on the bathroom floor. his head and shoulders are pushed completely inside the dark open cabinet space beneath the sink basin so he can reach the pipes. and because his legs are so long, the lower half of his body is sticking out.

“alright, look,” caleb muttered, his voice echoing hollowly against the underside of the sink. he pointed a long finger at the heavy gray intake pipe. “when i start turning the wrench on this coupling bolt, the whole pipe is gonna want to twist with it. if it twists too much, it’ll snap the plastic threads inside the wall. i need you to take the pliers, clamp them onto the upper collar, and hold it perfectly still. think you can do that?”

and because you have to help him by holding a pipe that is also inside that dark cabinet, you'd have to lean your entire upper body over his chest while you crouched beside his hips and thighs. 

“i'm not completely useless, caleb.” you whispered back.

“never said you were,” he murmured, his eyes flickering up to meet yours beneath the sink. for a second, his gaze lingered on your lips, before he blinked and forced his attention back to the metal wrench in his hand. “alright. on three. one... two... three.”

you clamped the pliers onto the collar and squeezed with all your might. you could hear caleb grunting below you, biceps bunching as he threw his strength into turning the stubborn rusted bolt. but the second the wrench caught, your hand slipped on the grease-slicked metal. the pliers clattered loudly against the tiles, and the gray pipe twisted with a nasty screech.

“wait, wait! stop!” you gasped, your fingers scrambling to grab the tool again.

“you're letting it turn!” caleb yelled, though it was more of a breathless panicked laugh than an actual scold. he had to throw his arm over your shoulder, his large hand coming down over yours to help you steady the pliers. “there, hold it tight like that and squeeze!”

“i am squeezing! your hands are too big, you're blocking my grip!” 

“okay, okay, teamwork, remember?” caleb chuckled, his breath fanning across your neck. “let me reposition. you hold the handle with both hands, and i’ll just use raw force on the wrench. ready? go."

this time, you locked your fingers around the pliers, planting your heels firmly against the tiled floor and leaning your entire body weight into the tool to keep the line steady. caleb grunted again, a low sound deep in his throat, and with one shove of his arm, the rusted coupling bolt finally gave way, sliding smoothly into place with a satisfying click!

“is that it?” you panted, your knuckles white from gripping the pliers.

“uh, turn the valve. let's see.”

still hovering over him, you reached out and twisted the small plastic knob all the way to the left. for a second, there was a breathless silence—and then, the hollow hiss in the walls was replaced by the rushing water. you both waited, eyes wide, staring at the joint. 

not a single drop leaked out. it was perfectly, completely dry.

a breathless laugh then tore out of your chest before you could stop it. “we actually did it!”

“good job, pips.” caleb smiled, his hands coming up to clap against his thighs as he slid himself out from under the sink. ”this is exactly like that summer when we tried to build that stupid treehouse behind the old chapel. remember? you dropped the entire box of nails into the mud and blamed it on a stray dog.“ a nostalgic smile broke across his face as he sat back on his heels. 

you wiped the stray pools of water from the floor with an old rag, while caleb casually tossed the teflon tape and pliers back into his plastic toolbox. “because it was a stray dog! it barked at me and i got scared, and need i remind you who tried to use a literal rock because he forgot to bring a hammer?”

“hey, the rock worked for at least three planks,” caleb defended himself, catching the rag you threw at him with a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that specific, beautiful way they always did when he was genuinely happy. “besides, i was twelve. cut me some slack. at least i didn't cry when the roof fell through.”

“i did not cry because the roof fell, caleb, i cried because a caterpillar fell on my shoulder!”

“same thing, baby. you were a total baby.”

“says the guy who still can't sleep without a fan on because he thinks the darkness makes the room smaller,” you shot back, leaning your shoulder against the bathroom wall.

caleb paused, his grin softening into something incredibly tender, leaving behind the golden-boy warmth you had starved for over the last four years.

“i missed this.” he casually reached out, his long fingers gently tugging at a loose strand of your hair that had dried in a messy curl against your cheek. “i missed you making fun of me. the guys at the academy are too polite. it’s boring.“

“yeah?” your heart did that erratic skip against your ribs again as his thumb lightly brushed against the edge of your jawline. “well... someone has to keep your ego in check.”

“exactly, can't have me flying planes with an oversized head, right?”

you finally stood up, your knees cracking slightly as you broke the spell of the small space. 

“i'm gonna... i should probably check the kitchen. granny bought some fish earlier, so i'll start cooking lunch before she wakes up.” you murmured, keeping your voice light as you took a step toward the exit, your hand already reaching for the brass doorknob.

you didn't even get to wrap your fingers around the metal when—

thud.

a large palm slammed flat against the wood of the door right in front of your face, the sudden vibration rattling through the frame. you jumped in surprise, your breath catching sharply in your throat as you instinctively whirled around.

“don't.”

caleb was looming directly over you, but it was the look on his face that made your heart stop. the boyish smile from seconds ago was entirely gone. instead, his features were twisted into a deeply troubled, desperate grimace.

“don't go.”

you frowned. “what do you mean? i'm just going to the kitchen—” 

“don't go to the city today,” he interrupted, his tone shifting into something bolder as he stepped even closer, effectively trapping your smaller frame beneath his. “i only have two months here. that's it. sixty days before they drag me back to the barracks and put me back in a cockpit. so...” 

caleb hesitates, but he takes a deep breath.

“can you just stay here? can you... spend every single day with me before i have to leave again?"

you stared up at him, your mouth parting slightly. fuck, you were blushing now. it must be so visible. 

caleb’s hand—the one planted firmly beside your head—slowly curled into a tight fist against the wood of the door. “it feels like i missed you a hell of a lot more than you missed me.” his voice dropped an octave, turning into a vulnerable murmur. “you have no idea how many nights i spent staring at the ceiling of that concrete bunk, just waiting to see your face this close again.”

speechless, you could only look up at him, your mind completely short-circuiting under his honesty. 

desperate to find some sort of anchor, desperate to make sense of the dizzying reality that caleb—your childhood friend that you should see as a brother—was practically begging for your attention, you swallowed hard and blurted out the first defensive defense your brain could manufacture.

“why didn't you get a girlfriend there?” you try, blinking rapidly as you struggled to maintain his gaze. “i mean it, caleb. you're... you're handsome, and you're well-built. it’s completely impossible that you didn't at least have girls trying to talk to you or court you up there.“

“why didn't i get one?” a slow smile broke through his troubled expression, his eyes glittering with a sudden amusement. he tilted his head down, his gaze dropping briefly to your small hands, before snapping back up to lock directly into your eyes.

“because... i prayed every single day. i closed my eyes at night and prayed that you wouldn't have a boyfriend by the time i got back.” you press your head further against the wood of the door, just when caleb nears his face close enough. “the thought of another man touching what belongs to this house... what belongs to me... would really, deeply upset me."

he leaned down a fraction of an inch further, but then he suddenly breaks the proximity by pulling back. 

“and... did you just say i'm handsome?” caleb smiled wider, his thumb trailing down the doorframe to lightly graze the very edge of your wet shoulder. “so... is that an admission? am i attractive to you?”

am i attractive to you?

your lips parted, but no sound came out. 

the sheer audacity of him—shifting from a desperate aching boy to this dangerously confident creature in the span of a single breath—was enough to make your throat go dry. you wanted to push him away, wanted to snap at him for using that rumbling tone on you, but you couldn't.

“you're an idiot, caleb.” 

“that's not an answer, pips.” 

he moved his hand from the doorframe, his fingers sliding slowly down the side of your neck. his palm was warm, a stark contrast to the chilled skin of your collarbone where the groundwater had soaked you earlier. his thumb found the frantic pulse point fluttering at the base of your throat, pressing just firmly enough to let you know he could feel exactly how much power he held over you in this room.

just outside, through the wooden slats of these walls, granny was sleeping. the knowledge that she was just at the other side of the room—that a single loud noise, a dropped tool, or a sharp gasp would shatter the quiet of the house...

“caleb, stop,“ you breathed, the protest losing all its teeth as your fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him slightly closer instead of pushing him back. “granny will...”

“i'm being quiet,” he whispered back, tilting his head until his lips were brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “but you're driving me crazy.”

a soft whimper caught in your throat, and caleb immediately swallowed it.

“hmgh—!”

you felt his hand sliding from your neck up to your jaw, tilting your face up as his lips came down to meet yours.

it wasn't the sweet, tentative kiss of childhood friends. 

it was rather heavy, desperate, and laced with an aching hunger that had been rotting inside his chest for several months. 

his lips pressed firm and unyielding against yours, demanding a response you had been starving to give. you let out a muffled gasp against his mouth, and caleb took total advantage of it—his tongue slid past your teeth with a stroke that made your knees buckle.

you would have almost slid straight down the door if caleb’s other arm hadn't instantly locked around your waist.

he hoisted you up, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips through your thin shorts, dragging your lower body flush against his. the solid weight of him was overwhelming; you could feel the hard contours of his thighs and the frantic rising and falling of his chest.

you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, your fingers tangling into the short, damp strands of his hair, pulling him down further. you kissed him back with the same bitterness you’d been hoarding since he left—punishing him for the distance, for the nursing student lie, for the suffocating way he made you feel like you belonged to him even when he was hundreds of miles away.

your hands, tangled in the soft fabric of his black t-shirt, moved themselves to his shoulders, pushing against the stubborn muscle until he was forced to take a blind step backward. his heel caught against the base of the toilet, and with a muffled grunt, caleb sank down. 

the plastic lid was securely closed, providing a seat that placed him directly beneath you, his knees spread wide to accommodate the sudden change in height.

you froze for a second, your breath hitching as you stood between his thighs. the sudden drop in his posture left you looking down at him, your hands still resting on his broad shoulders while he looked up at you through his eyelashes. you hesitated, your lower lip stinging from the friction of his mouth, and despite of it all, your mind kept on screaming that you were crossing a line you could never uncross.

but caleb didn't give you the chance to overthink it.

his hands reached up, palms slick with a light sheen of sweat as they wrapped firmly around the sides of your waist. with one heavy pull, he guided your hips forward. and then, your knees slid effortlessly over his thick, denim-clad thighs until you were completely straddling his lap.

“ah—”

shit, this is such an intimate position!

the impact of your lower body hitting his thighs made a gasp slip from your throat, but caleb caught it instantly again. he surged upward, his mouth slamming back over yours to smother the sound before it could echo past the wooden door.

the kiss turned frantic, fueled by the weight of your body resting completely on his. it wasn't gentle anymore. caleb’s tongue pushed deep, demanding and possessive, while his teeth lightly caught the flesh of your bottom lip, biting down just enough to make you whine into his mouth. you bit him back in retaliation, an instinctive nip that made a guttural vibration rumble deep in his chest. his hands moved from your waist, one sliding up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling roughly into your damp hair to hold your face exactly where he wanted it, while the other pressed flat against your lower back.

and then, without warning, your mind went entirely, terrifyingly blank.

a sudden rolling pressure moved beneath the thin fabric of your shorts. caleb arched his back just to grind his hips upward in a slow tilt that pressed the hard length of his arousal directly against your center.

then, a sharp jolt of pure heat shot straight up your spine, making your eyes flutter shut as your fingers clawed into the fabric of his shirt. 

“caleb—” you gasped against his lips, trying to pull back just an inch to breathe.

“shh,” he breathed, his mouth instantly chasing yours, his lips brushing against your cheek, your jawline, before burying his face in the crook of your neck. his breathing was completely ragged, a suffocating thing against your collarbone. he didn't stop. his hand on your lower back moved down, a heavy palm pressing firmly against the base of your spine, and he ground his hips upward again, harder this time, forcing you to feel every single inch of how aroused he's just getting. 

“please,” caleb whispered into your skin, his voice cracking. ”don't move away. please... just let me feel you like this. i’m so tired of imagining it.”

“granny will...” you whimpered, your head tilting back as his teeth lightly grazed the sensitive skin right beneath your ear. your hands were shaking against his shoulders, your lower body instinctively tilting into his next roll, a shameless surrender that made him let out a broken sigh. “caleb, if she... if she hears us...”

“she won't,” he muttered against your skin, his thumb digging firmly into your hip bone, locking you flush against him so there wasn't a single millimeter of space left between your bodies. he took a deep breath, his chest expanding hard against yours as he forced his movements to become agonizingly slow. “i’ll be quiet. just stay. please... you’re right here, you’re finally right here...”

“i'm here,” you whispered breathlessly into his ear. “i'm right here.”

your skin was beginning to sting where it pressed against his. the agonizingly slow tilts of his hips couldn't stay slow for long.

without either of you consciously deciding it, the grinding turned into a drag of weight against weight—a quiet breathless dryhumping that sent waves of heat pooling directly between your thighs.

the fabric of your loose shorts and his heavy denim rubbed together with a soft, repetitive whisper—it was the only continuous sound in the small space besides the ragged, broken cadence of your breaths. caleb’s hands were no longer just holding you; they were practically anchoring you to him. his long fingers buried into the flesh of your bum, pulling your pelvis down hard against his with every upward surge of his thighs.

“caleb—”

the name was clipped neatly from your tongue as he hitched his hips higher, a muffled whimper escaping your throat. you slapped a hand over your own mouth, your eyes widening in sheer panic as you stared at the bathroom door. the reminder of granny sleeping just down the hall felt like a wire wrapped tight around your throat.

caleb caught your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from your lips only to replace it with his own shoulder. “bite me,” he choked out a whisper. “bite the shirt. don't... don't make a sound.”

you didn't hesitate. you buried your face into the soft black cotton of his shoulder, your teeth sinking into the fabric as caleb let out a shuddering gasp.

he was a complete mess. 

nothing more than a boy who looked thoroughly undone by your weight in his lap. a dark crimson blush had crawled all the way up his neck, blooming across his sharp cheekbones and turning the tips of his ears a burning pink. his long eyelashes were damp, fluttering rapidly as he kept his eyes squeezed shut.

every time your weight humped against his hard bulge, a whine would catch in his throat, a sound he desperately swallowed by burying his face into your hair.

you began to move with him, your hips rolling in a frantic rhythm that matched his pace, chasing the tight, coil of pleasure that was tightening in your stomach. this makes his fingers dig brutally into your hip bones.

“wait—hey, wait,” he wheezed, his hips stuttering against yours as he tried to find his bearings. he was trembling beneath you, the muscles in his thighs and arms locked so tight they were vibrating. he opened his eyes, irises completely blown out, to look up at you. “you're... if you move like that... i won't be able to stay quiet.”

“then don't move,” you breathed against his neck, unable to stop humping him like a starving bunny.

“i can't,” he whispered back, a tear of sheer overstimulation tracing down his flushed temple. a soft, helpless whimper broke from his chest as his hips instinctively arched upward again, completely disregarding his own warning. he ground his lower body against yours in three quick, desperate, and torturously deep strokes, his head falling back against the porcelain tank as he fought a losing battle to keep his ragged groans silent inside.

“how about...” you panted, “how about we do this standing up? would that... would that make less noise?“

caleb's movements immediately stopped, his breath hitching sharply in his throat at the suggestion. he didn't answer with words; his large hands just tightened around your waist, and with a low grunt of exertion, he stood up, lifting you effortlessly off his lap before setting your feet firmly back onto the cool tile floor.

before your knees could buckle from the sudden rush of cold air, caleb's heavy palms guided you forward. you found yourself bending over the bathroom sink, your upper body lowering until your forearms were pressed flat against the cool, smooth porcelain basin...

right in front of the wide mirror.

seconds later, the towering weight of caleb’s chest loomed against your back. he adjusted his stance, his long legs spreading slightly to frame yours, and then he crowded back into you. the thick ridge of his arousal aligned perfectly with your ass from behind, pressing hard against your thin cotton shorts.

he started moving again, but this angle... this angle was entirely different. 

it was so much more exposing, so much more intense, because when you look up, your blurred vision collided directly with your reflection in the mirror.

you could see everything. you could see your own flushed breathless face, your lips swollen and wet from his kisses. and right behind you, caleb was a mess. his dark hair was thoroughly mussed, cheeks and neck burning with a furious blush.

with every thrust from him, the force of his hips sent a jolt of heat straight to your throbbing thing, making your hands slick against the porcelain as you gripped the edges of the sink for dear life.

“hngh...! caleb—”

“shh—you have to keep quiet,” caleb scrambled to scold you, but he sounded completely panicked, his breathing so loud and ragged it was a miracle granny couldn't hear it from outside. “gran's room is... it's literally right beside this. if you make a sound, i'm gonna—we're gonna get caught.”

even while trying to play the protective guide, his eyes shifted downward in the reflection. staring at your bent-down position, watching the way your body curved beneath his and how perfectly you took every push of his thighs, was enough to send caleb entirely over the edge. he went visibly harder against you, his long fingers trembling violently where they were clamped over your hip bones.

“god, shit—” caleb choked out, his forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder blade, his chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. his rhythm turned a little clumsy, a little too eager, his hips grinding up against you with an uncoordinated, desperate hunger that made your mind spin. “i... i don't even know what i'm doing. i almost... i can't believe this is real. you're actually here. you're really letting me do this.”

“caleb, you're moving too fast,” you whimpered, your fingers slipping on the wet porcelain as he gave another firm, deep roll of his pelvis that made your thighs shake.

“i'm sorry, i'm sorry,” pressing a line of apologetic kisses along your shoulder blade, he consciously tried to slow himself down, his large hands squeezing your hips to steady the rhythm, though the intense blush on his face only deepened until his ears were practically purple. “is this better? like this?”

“yeah... yeah..”

suddenly, caleb’s hands moved from your hips, his long fingers sliding beneath the hem of your shorts.

“hey,” he choked out. “i can't... i'm not staying behind these clothes anymore. i need to feel you.”

with a frantic uncoordinated rush of movement that was entirely fueled by a lack of control, he pulled your shorts and underwear down to your knees, managing to free himself from his gym shorts at the exact same time. 

the sudden sensation of his bare, burning skin pressing against your uncovered backside made you gasp. “w-wait, caleb, what are y—”

he didn't wait. caleb guided the tip of his manhood to your entrance and pushed forward. with a slow, agonizingly thick surge, he slid completely inside of you.

the size of him filled you so entirely it took your breath away. your fingers clawed at the slick porcelain of the sink, your head dropping as a high broken whimper left your lips. caleb let out a long trembling groan against your shoulder, his chest heaving violently as he buried himself to the hilt. 

“fuck, fuck!”

”be quiet, caleb...”

“s-sorry, fuck.” a lazy smirk tugged at his lips in the reflection, his hands tightening on your waist. “see? i told you nobody else could fit you like this. you're shaking.”

he buries his head into your hole much, much deeper. “did you miss me this much?”

the teasing sting of his words, even now, made a surge of stubborn retaliation flare up in your chest. you didn't want him to see how completely undone you were. pulling your hands off the sink, you tried to straighten your spine and pull yourself forward, attempting to slide off his dick to break his rhythm.

it was the wrong move.

the sudden threat of losing you made caleb snap completely. his large hands locked around your hips like iron cuffs, yanked you violently backward, and thrusted into you with a force that was so deep and heavy it made your vision go entirely white.

“don't run from me,” caleb gave another hard, bruising thrust that almost hit your womb, pinning you ruthlessly against the porcelain. his upper body slammed against your back, his face completely flushed a dark, furious crimson as he forced your head up. “look at yourself in the mirror. look at what you're doing to me. look at how much of me is inside you right now.”

you couldn't even form words to respond. you were completely paralyzed by how big, how thick, and how utterly unrelenting he felt stretching you open from the inside. all you could do was grip the edges of the sink for dear life, your knuckles turning white as your body struggled to take his bare thighs slapping against yours.

yet, for all his dominant holding, caleb was a complete, crying mess.

every single time he shoved his hips forward, a pathetic little moan escaped his throat—sounds he tried so desperately to bite back, burying his face in your wet hair or chewing on his own bottom lip until it bled, utterly terrified of waking granny up outside. 

“fuck, please,” caleb whimpered against your neck, penetrating you over and over again with each stroke making you cry out into your hand. he was trembling so hard the vibration traveled straight into your body. “can we... can we do this every day? just until i leave again? please. tell me you'll let me do this to you every single day?”

you couldn't even answer him. you were too occupied, and quite literally occupied, by the way he's pounding against your ass. 

he was driving into you, his pelvis slamming against your backside with a wet and heavy sound. it was too much. the fullness of him stretching you open was overwhelming, and as he bottomed out completely inside you for the third time in a row, the careful restraint in your throat shattered.

“aaangh~!”

before the sound could even fade, caleb's palm snapped upward to clamp firmly over your mouth. his long fingers wrapped tightly around your jaw, crushing your lips against your teeth and effectively smothering your next desperate gasp into a muffled whimper against his skin.

“i told you to stay quiet,” but even as he scolded you, his lower body didn't slow down for a single second. if anything, your loud reaction only drove him deeper into the edge, his hips pumping into you even faster. “you're gonna wake her up. do you want gran to walk in here and see you like this? see what a bad girl you're being f'me?”

you were completely pathetic beneath him now. you couldn't breathe properly, you couldn't scream, and you couldn't pull away. all you could do was let out small broken whines against his palms, your tears wetting his fingers as your hips shook uncontrollably under the force of his penetration. you were nothing but a trembling, weeping toy for him to use.

“shit... oh god, shit, look at you,” 

followed by a groan, his entire body went rigid as he reached his breaking point. needing to get even deeper, to consume every remaining inch of you before he spilled, he reached down with his other hand and hooked it beneath your thigh. with one effortless pull, he lifted your leg up to force you to balance precariously on one foot while your knee was pinned up against his waist. “fuck, i'm so close,”

the new, devastatingly wide angle opened you up completely. it only allowed him to bury his entire length into you with a series of shoving that made your head snap back.

“don't make a sound,” caleb choked out, his voice cracking into a crying whisper while he began to hammer into you with his hand pressing harder against your mouth. “keep it in. take all of me right now. just take it.”

the final push of his hips sent your mind spiraling into absolute oblivion, your body tightening around his thickness in a series of violent, helpless spasms that milked him completely. caleb let out a sharp gasp against the crown of your head, his entire muscular frame going stiff as iron against your back. he knew he was at the absolute point of no return. even through the blinding fog of his climax, that ingrained discipline and the terrifying reality of the consequences cut through his thoughts.

with a sudden, desperate grunt of exertion, caleb grabbed your hip bone with bruising force and violently pulled himself out of you.

the abrupt sensation of emptiness made a choked sob rise in your throat, but before you could even register the loss, caleb’s release hit you. he came in heavy thick spurts across your backside and the small of your lower back.

“oh, god—oh fuck, i'm coming, i'm coming,” caleb cried out, his voice completely fracturing into a loud mess. he couldn't even keep himself quiet anymore. “fuck, i love you, i love you so much. look at what you did to your caleb.” 

a crying whimper escaped his lips as the final waves of his orgasm racked his large body. his hand finally slid off your face, fingers trembling as he let go of your jaw, leaving your lips swollen and burning. instead, he dropped both of his heavy palms onto the curves of your hips. “look at this fucking mess...”

meanwhile, your upper body remained slumped over the cool porcelain of the sink. your fingers were weakly splayed against the slick basin, completely devoid of any remaining strength. your knees were wobbling so much beneath your weight that the only thing keeping you from collapsing onto the tiled floor was the unyielding grip of caleb's hands on your waist. 

slowly, caleb’s heavy breathing began to level out, turning into shallow, ragged pants against the nape of your neck. he opened his eyes, staring down at the reflection in the wide glass mirror.

he could only stare at the mess in absolute awe. the sight of you bent over the sink, your shorts pushed down to your knees, your pale skin flushed a deep beautiful crimson and glistening with his thick, white fluids, looked like something straight out of the sinful dreams he had hoarded in his concrete barracks. it didn't feel real. the fact that he had actually touched you, filled you, and marked you like this inside his grandmother’s house made his heart thump.

with a sigh, caleb leaned his entire weight forward, completely hugging you from behind. his broad chest pressed firmly against your back while his large arms wrapped securely around your waist to support your sagging frame. he buried his face into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as if he were trying to memorize it all over again.

“pipsqueak,” he whispered, his voice incredibly rough, gravelly. ”hey... look at me. are you okay? did i hurt you?”

you let out a small whimper, your head shifting weakly against his shoulder as you managed to nod. “yes... i'm okay.”

caleb let out a breathy chuckle, and he tilted his head to press a soft kiss against your burning cheek. “do you think we woke gran up?” 

you swallowed the dryness in your throat as you stared blankly at the porcelain basin. “i... i don't know, caleb. you were really loud at the end.”

caleb hummed, a lazy, satisfied sound as his thumbs lightly stroked the sensitive skin of your hip bones, soothing the small red marks his fingers had left behind. 

“well... if she's awake, she's probably just gonna think i'm clumsy and dropped the wrench again,” he murmured into your hair, his grip tightening just a fraction, pulling you closer into his warmth. “come on. let's get you cleaned up. i'll wash you down, and then... i'll cook you that braised pork you love right now. the one with the sweet soy sauce and the star anise. how would that sound, pips?”

“that sounds great, gege.”

caleb gulped at the nickname. “it's been a while since you used that on me,” his face breaks into a smile, and then he leans down to look at you in the eye instead of through the mirror. “what if you use that while we do it again tonight?”

his sisters swarmed him instantly, their hands soft and curious as they touched his blushy face, his chubby arms and legs, plucking him from the birthing waters of the spring and twirling him up in the air.

“he is so beautiful.” one whispered, her voice like the haste of rivers over stones. “his hair is like wild irises.” another chimed in, caressing his short strands of hair with admiration.

the nymphs raised him in a world of unrestrained adoration.

when he was just a toddler, stumbling on plump legs, his sisters would clap and cheer, their laughter like tinkling stream stones. they’d place wildflowers in his silken purple hair, kissing at his round cheeks with joy each time he took a step unattended.

“raffy, our cutie nymph!”

his sisters cherished him. they would sit him by the water’s edge, their laps full of flowers picked from the banks. the oldest nymph would take a wood-carved comb and gently untangle his long hair, her fingers gentle yet sure against his amethyst locks.

“you are special, rafayel.” she whisper-sung, her breath cool against his temple. “the spring has never made a male before.”

another sister would adorn his hair with a flower crown — he could wear it comfortably now that he was older — weaving white water lilies and blue bells into it. “you are our precious little brother.” she said, her eyes shining with love.

“the prince of the spring.”

as a child, he would actively participate in his sisters’ activities. rafayel’s slender fingers, tipped with a faint pearlescence, would move with a mesmerizing grace. he’d weave stems together, his touch causing the buds to unfurl obediently, their colours deepening.

“a crown for you, my dear sister.” he would sing-song, his voice the sound of water slipping over smooth pebbles, still soft and delicate. he’d place a circlet of dove-grey hellebores upon one head.

“and for you too, tara.” this one of violets so deep they were nearly black.

he saved the most vibrant for last, crowning his own twilight hair with a riot of primrose and celandine, mirroring the sun he truly loved and adored.

in his adolescence, the spring was his canvas.

with a laugh that rippled the surface, he’d splash at his sisters, the droplets hanging in the air like scattered diamonds before falling. he would press his palm flat against the water and draw it upwards in a shimmering, impossible arc, a liquid sculpture that held its shape for a breathless moment before collapsing with a sigh.

he’d trace spirals and lazy, intertwining patterns on the surface, symbols that glowed with a faint bioluminescence before fading, as if the water itself was fainting at his command.

life itself came to him.

ducklings, a fuzzy, cheeping convoy, would paddle fearlessly between his legs, quacking at him to join the waters. he’d submerge himself until only his strange pink eyes were visible, watching them round around the spring with their tiny, webbed feet, following behind in low strides.

swans, those haughty monarchs, would bend their necks for him to stroke. sometimes he’d even challenge them, disturbing their peace with one of his games. he’d surge from the water, scattering light, and race them across the water-meadow, his feet leaving no imprint on the tender grass, his laughter mingling with their harsh, musical cries.

he was faster, a streak of lilac and pearl blooming in his wake, but he always let them believe they could win.

just so they would return to play with him.

•••

as he grew, so did his beauty. his hair fell like a waterfall of mauve down to his torso, shimmering in the dappled sunlight. his eyes, the color of blushing roses, contrasted strangely against his now piercing masculine features.

as he grew, so did his manly body.

he had no longer a soft and squishy flesh, like his sisters, but a hardness and sharpness unfit for the gentleness of the spring. his height tripled, his shoulders broaden; his chest and hips never widened, but something else beneath his loins disrupted the order.

he loved his sisters and the spring, the welcoming flowers and the occasional animal companions stumbling into their part of the forest.

but sometimes, in the quiet of evening, loneliness crept in like mist.

why did the spring birth a male nymph like himself?

why did his reflection look less and less like his sisters’ as the seasons passed?

why did he feel… unfit for the world he adored?

the water did not answer. it only held him, shimmering, silent.

•••

his body began to change drastically at around the same time the first blood-blossoms of a cherry tree burst from its bark. rafayel, now what the forest would have called an adult, felt a strange tightness in his lower belly, a throbbing heaviness beneath the leaves and water lilies that covered his hips.

he had worn them since birth, as all nymphs did — not as clothing, but as a part of themselves, a living crown of foliage that wrapped around his body on its own accord.

one afternoon, while basking on a sun-warmed rock at the spring’s edge, he ran his hands over his stomach and pressed.

“a-ah.”

the tightness in his tummy was worse: it felt like a knot of rope, hard and hot. he pushed the leaves around his crotch aside, curious about his uneasiness.

beneath, his body had transformed. where there had been only soft, flaccid flesh before, now there was a rigid, swollen length of pale flesh, stiff and unyielding. it was heavy. it was wet at the tip, a gleaming pearl of slick moisture beading there and drooping along the underside veins.

he touched it, and a jolt — electric, painful and pleasurable — shot through him. he jerked his hand away, breath hitching.

“what is this?” he whispered to the empty air.

he touched it again, more lightly this time, and the jolt returned, a warm feeling spreading up his spine. he decided to stroke it, up and down, up and down, trying to get out the strange sticky substance.

perhaps he has been poisoned.

but the warmth in his belly intensified. his thighs, too, tensed the more his hand moved on it, jutting the shaft up into his fist with vigour.

“oh-ooh–”

he felt his heart beating in his ears, as more and more creamy liquid seeped out of his mushroomy tip. the painful pull in his groin became a pressure, a craving he had no name for.

he needed to investigate further.

•••

that night, he slipped away from his slumbering sisters, drifting to a hidden nook of the spring, shielded by willow trees. the moon was a sliver of pearl overhead, mirroring the beads of precum still pumping out of his slit.

as he sat in the shallows, water lapping at his thighs, he took his swollen, throbbing flesh in his hand once more.

“ah…”

he tugged, tentative at first. then harder. the pleasure-pain flared, and his breath hitched.

he pumped his hand, fisting the hard, aching length in a rhythm he instinctively craved. his whole body bunched tight, muscles flexing. the tightness in his groin built to a peak, a torrent of heat and need. he felt on the brink of something — some release — so he kept fisting, harder, faster, until his knuckles ached and the skin of his cock turned raw.

he panted, eyes squeezed shut, as ropes of that sticky substance finally splashed away into the rushing waters.

“w-why?” he groaned, letting go abruptly, his softening member dropping heavily against his thigh. “what is wrong with me?”

his question was to receive an answer sooner than he’d have expected.

•••

it was his sister tara, the one who twisted lily crowns for his hair. she was taken by a man — a human hunter who stumbled upon the spring one rainy twilight.

“she has been… enchanted.” his oldest sister said, her voice careful as she recounted the incident. “the man loved her beauty, so she has gone with him.”

“enchanted?” rafayel asked, the word strange on his tongue.

humans possessed such magical abilities?

“a tie that binds. a wanting that is not adoration, but… lust.” her eyes filled with sadness and shame, as if the topic itself make something inside her twist in pain; she knew she’d never see tara again. that’s how it usually goes.

“he wants her to be his alone.”

a hole tore itself open in rafayel’s chest at his sister’s sorrow, understanding the heaviness of the situation as she hugged her own stomach unconsciously. that enchantment she was speaking of must have a connection with the weird coil his own body was fostering in his belly.

poor sister tara.

but beneath the grief, something else sprouted inside rafayel — a hunger, thick and hot.

that night, in his hidden spot, his hand on his cock, he didn’t jerk off to relieve the pain. he pumped his fist, his eyes closed, and imagined.

he imagined a human woman. he had never seen one, but his mind built her after the few men he’s observed, focusing on the soft, warm flesh. you would stumble into his spring, your skin pearled with sweat and sunlight, seeking fresh water for your journey.

then you would see him and not look away.

you too would be enchanted.

he pictured your blown-out eyes gazing at him, hand reaching out, touching his hair, his face. “take me!” you would plea so beautifully, your human voice contrasting with the sound of the spring.

“you are mine.” he whispered back to the fantasy, his hand flying along his dripping length with hurried moves as he pictured himself dragging you down into the waters. “you came here for me.”

the pleasure that night was intense, primal. he groaned, his head thrown back against the willow’s trunk as he thought of you more. he imagined you arched beneath him, his body between your thighs, your heartbeat matching his.

rafayel imagined you begging him to release the ache in your own tummy. he imagined filling you, overflowing you, marking you with his seed.

“inside.” he hissed, hips jerking into his fist faster, biting his lips at the delicious image in his head. “inside you.”

his release burst in a white, hot stream that spattered on his stomach and the surface of the humming water.

once more, his cum was wasted.

but now, with an actual goal in mind… that was to change.

•••

after that epiphany, his whispers to the spring were no longer for flowers or playful ducks. he passed the meadow where his sisters would sit, and he would ask the sunlit water about you.

“when? when will she come?”

he watched the tree line, where the world of the spring met the mortal pathway.

he saw more and more humans — always men. soldiers in battered mail, their boots heavy with mud. hunters with bows, their eyes hard and scanning the trees for game. merchants, their voices gruff and filled with practicality. they traveled in groups, singly, or in pairs.

but never, not once, did he see a woman.

“why?” he asked his sister one evening, his voice thin with a longing he laid bare. “i see them. the men. but the women — they do not come.”

was his wish just–

“are there no human women?”

fingers paused in his hair, where his sister was weaving sprigs of crocus.

“there are.” she said, her tone gentle but unyielding. “but they do not travel the land like men, rafayel. their fate is different. they are kept, in their homes, in their villages. the world outside is for male feet.”

he recoiled at that, eyes full of bewilderment. “kept? like caged birds?”

“they call it protection.” she sighed, her eyes gloomy with disdain. “it is their way.”

the words should have cured him of this nonsensical desire. but instead, they fed the hunger bubbling deep down. if human women were so closely guarded, so rarely seen… then any woman who did stray near his spring would be more than rare.

you would be unique. just like him. the spring’s special offering.

he grew more... persistent. his jerk-off sessions, always in that same hidden spot, became rituals. he would close his eyes, take his aching cock in hand, and pray to the spring.

let her be lost.

let her fall in.

let her come to me.

his hand moved faster and faster, his release rippling through him like a peak of thunder. he spilled his cum into the spring every night, watching it spread like a perfect, ephemeral lily.

“come to me.” he breathed, his fantasy a painting bright in his mind. “stay with me. be enchanted by me. forever. be mine, and mine alone.”

the spring offered no answer, as usual. but the water seemed to hold his seed, to swallow it into its depths as if making a promise. rafayel smiled at that, his heart pounding with excitement — the spring did miracles like himself, so it will not ignore his pleas for a woman.

he would wait. he had all the time in the world. and when you do finally come, he would never let you go.

“come, my stunning human.”

his sisters would never understand. but you would. you would be his first, his only, his true treasure.

and the spring, and rafayel, would keep you for eternity.

•••

a few nights passed and something finally happened.

“go clean yourself!”

when the men’s voices carried over the hills, spiky with laughter and the smell of campfire, all the nymphs but one fled. they burst into a storm of echoing splashes and flashes of pale body, dissolving into the springs and trees, leaving no trace behind.

afraid to follow tara’s footsteps.

only rafayel remained embodied. he sank deeper into the spring, his purple hair floating above him like a weed beneath the surface, his pink eyes peering through the rippling curtain of water.

“go, the nymphs won’t mind a woman.”

woman?

rafayel first heard your footsteps as you approached, sensed your fatigue, your tension, the coppery tang of blood still drying on your skin.

and then you stripped right at the edge of the spring.

your loose shirt, bespoke with the smell of sweat and dust, slipped off your shoulders. your dagger, placed on a nearby rock. your hands — strong, scarred, yet undeniably feminine — moved to undo the bonds of your trousers, to let them fall to the damp moss. then your underthings, flimsy and functional, followed.

woman.

he watched, his eyes unblinking. he saw your bare back, the curve of your spine, the shadowy nipples and the soft curve of your breasts as you turned, scanning the tree line. he saw your legs, strong and cut with human muscles, and a new scar crackled across your thigh, a fresh red line of violence.

his woman.

your body was not like his sisters’. it was not a dream of pale silk and woven flowers. it was real. real and warm, flesh and sweat, dust and blood. your skin bore the stories of a life lived on the road — wind-chapped knuckles, a bruise blooming like a rose on your ribcage.

you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

he sank lower still as you stepped into the spring, water lapping at your ankles, then your calves, then your knees. you gasped, a sharp, brief sound that was picked up by his pointy ears.

the water was cold, and it made your nipples perk and your skin prickle with bumps.

so beautiful.

“oh, so relaxing.”

you sighed, letting the chill wash over you, and slunk deeper, until the water cleansed the dried blood from your ribcage, leaving it clean and smooth in the moonlight.

your arms moved over your skin, scrubbing away the dirt and grime of a week on the road. your eyes closed, a pleasured smile touching your lips as the water’s coolness began to soothe your aches. then you washed your hair, tilting your head back, your throat bare, your breasts breaking the surface of the spring.

offering him the image of a goddess.

so fucking beautiful.

rafayel watched, and his cock, hidden beneath the foliage at his loins, stirred. it swelled, hardened, became heavy and aching in the cold water. the tightness in his stomach returned; that hot, throbbing need called for you.

you were here.

you were real.

and he would have you.

he swayed in the water, his hair floating like a mantle of living vines. he began to move forth, sliding soundlessly through the deeper channels, gliding toward you. the water parted the flora for him, its undulation responding to his will.

his pinkish eyes were fixated on your captivating form.

you were standing waist-deep in the spring, your arms stretched towards your back, scrubbing at a stubborn spot, when a shiver ran down your spine. you stilled, your sharp eyes opening to scan your surroundings.

you stared at the water around you, then down, into the darkness.

you saw nothing but your own reflection, the sky above, the dark bottom.

“hello?” your voice came out soft, uncertain, testing for danger.  

it was probably a curious nymph, nothing too alarming… yet you turned, slowly, your hands raising to your sides, prepared to equip your dagger. it was probably a curious nymph, but you didn’t know their intentions towards you.

he ruptured through the surface a few feet away, his hair pouring down his back like a waterfall of purple and silver. the moonlight glinted off his skin, off the foliage around his hips, off the slender plane of his chest.

you stumbled back at his appearance, sloshing the water, your dagger clumsily slipping from the rock straight into the waters. your eyes wide, your mouth opening to let out a breathy curse.

“fuck.”

there goes your protection.

you were bracing for impact, hands drawn to your chest, fighting stance ready. but then you saw his hair, his face — a strange, exquisite beauty, soft and yet sharp.

oh, what a fascinating nymph.

…you thought he was a woman. so your fear melted slowly, replaced by innocent interest, even a touch of awe. you’ve never encountered nymphs, especially not this up close.

“so mesmerizing.”

he smiled at your compliment, a small, gentle quirk of his rosy lips. he tilted his head, showing you the expanse of his neck, the fine bones of his collarbones. making himself look harmless and naïve by showing you his vital points.

he floated closer, the water moving with him, swirling in lazy, hypnotic circles.

“hello…” he said, his voice the melodious sound of a stream cascading over smooth stones. it was a sound that captivated, that soothed, that wrapped around your mind.

it did wrap around yours.

you did not run, you did not fight. you stayed, your heart beating fast with uneasiness, but your body deciding to trust. your hands dropped without a second thought, letting your arms hang at your sides, combat long forgotten.

“who… who are you?”

he was close now, so close you could see the fine droplets of water on his eyelashes, the pale pink of his lips. the way sharper teeth poked from beneath.

he reached out, his webbed hand trembling slightly.

not in fear, but in excitement.

he touched your cheek, his webbed fingertips as cool as the spring water, yet underneath them you felt a hidden heat. you shuddered, not because of the cold, but from something else. your skin prickled, your nipples tightening again. even your breath hitched at the contact of his soft skin with your warm face.

why was your body reacting like that?

“i am rafayel.” he cooed, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “i am of the spring. and you are mine.”

your eyes widened at the last part, the threat-like affirmation making your pulse spike. you tried to step back, but the water beneath you suddenly felt thick, like molasses. it held you in place, sweetly, cruelly.

“w-what?” your voice was but a gasp, trembling as you tried to free yourself from the clutches of the spring.

nuh huh, he won’t allow that.

he moved closer, his body gliding against yours underwater. the proximity made you suddenly hyperaware of this strange nymph… he was taller than you, his shoulders broader. you felt his chest against your nipples, noting the contrast of his flat, sturdy muscles against your soft, swelling flesh.

your nipples rubbed against him, and a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through you.

wait, flat? could she– he…?

rafayel smirked, his mischievous pink eyes gleaming in the moonlight. he slid his hand down your arm, then up again, over your shoulder, to the nape of your neck. he tilted your head back, exposing your throat.

“do not be afraid.” he murmured, his breath a cool mist against your pulse point. “i will not hurt you. i have been waiting for you.”

“waiting?” your voice came out as a whisper, terror washing your expression with every word of his. “how?”

“the spring knows.” he said, his lips brushing your jaw now. “the spring wanted you here. with me.”

and with that, he kissed you.

it was not a gentle, tentative kiss. it was deep, possessive, wet with the taste of the waters and something sweeter. your mouth opened under his ministration, and he took advantage, his long tongue exploring you, tasting you.

feeding you his saccharin saliva and making you dizzy with want.

you felt yourself melting into the kiss, your knees growing weak against his rigid body as your tongue was wrapped in his longer wet muscle.

as more of his saliva was pushed down your throat.

mine, mine, mine.

your hands raised from your sides at last, but not to push him away, but to grasp his neck, your fingers digging into his bare skin and pulling him in.

“you’re mine.”

rafayel moaned against your nectar-coated lips, the sound low and rough. that fragile voice from before was replaced by a deeper tune, reverberating masculine and powerful. he pulled back just a smidge, his eyes half-lidded, studying your enchanted state. you were slowly but surely losing yourself, succumbing to pleasure and his otherworldly charm.

“…mine?”

you repeated, the word feeble and distant in your own ears. your mind was beginning to fog, the edges of reason blurring like a stream’s bank under rising water. his voice filled that space, sweet and irresistible — drawing you in and drowning you.

“you came to my waters.” he tutted, his mouth inches from your ear. “you stripped for me. you are mine now.”

he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his body. the allure in his voice became a physical thing, a heaviness in your limbs, a surrender in your soul. you didn’t resist as his other hand came up to cup your right breast.

“ahh.” your sharp intake of breath fanned across his own exposed skin, making it flush with arousal.

“just like that.”

he hummed, a low, vibrating sound that made your skin break out in another wave of bumpy awareness. his thumb swirled over your nipple, rolling the taut, hardened bud between his fingertips.

a jarring, familiar pleasure shot directly to your core, forcing that well-known coil of arousal to tighten just a bit.

“so sensitive.” he murmured, his eyes flicking down to watch his own touch. “so real. your heart is pounding like a flock of frightened birds.”

he dipped his head, and his mouth swiftly replaced his thumb. the wet, hot swirl of his monstruous tongue over your nipple made you cry out, a short, sharp sound that echoed in the silent grove. your hands, of their own accord, ran into his wet hair, the mauve strands coiling around your fingers.

“r-raf–”

he sucked, gently at first, then with increasing pressure, the scratch of his pointy teeth pinching at your skin and making you arch beautifully into him. your knees weakened with every tug of his lips on your chest, legs turning to putty beneath the spring.

the water suddenly moved, a slick current wrapping around your legs, holding you up when your own strength failed.

“that’s it.” he cooed, his mouth leaving your nipple with a soft pop, choosing to lay wet, open-mouthed kisses along your sternum. “let me support you. let me take care of you.”

his hand left your waist and dipped below the spring’s surface. the water beneath his palm calmed down, creating a perfect, clear medium that allowed you to see his webbed hand sliding flat across your lower belly.

“a-ahh.” you gasped, your abdomen clenching already in anticipation.

he hushed you with a shushing sound, then spread his palm, pressing down against your heated skin — right where he himself felt that knotty desire bubble.

“hush… you are so tense, my human. so filled with violence and vigil.” his hand slid down further, the water again obeying him, creating no waves or crease in his wake.

his fingertips skimmed the soft, puffy lips of your cunt, tracing from your swollen clit down to your gaping hole. you shook as if struck by lightning, the feeling of his touch too intense beneath the waters.

you wished to say something, but another sharp gasp emerged, this one cut short as he pressed two fingers inside you.

“so warm…” he breathed, his pupils dilating with something hungry and primal as the digits got swallowed so easily by your ravenous pussy. knuckles deep, he curled his fingers, the pads rubbing against a spot that sent another jolt of delirious fire through you. “and so tight.”

“f-fuckk…” your head rolled back at his intrusion, your mouth open in a silent scream.

the hum of the spring became louder, a roar in your ears that wasn’t just sound but sensation. your pulse thundered everywhere, singing together with the waters.

singing together with rafayel.

“look at me.” he commanded, his voice losing its sing-song quality for a moment. it was darker, deeper, imposing. your eyes snapped to his, glazed over with that honey-like colour of his nectar. and he smiled, a blessed, innocent twist of his lips that denied the predatory desire in his gaze.

“good, keep it like that.”

he stilled his hand abruptly, and then withdrew his fingers completely from your pussy. with a gentle pull, he dragged you closer, until your soft belly flushed against his own. you felt it then — the hard, hot length of his cock, partially hidden by the foliage, pressing steadily against your navel.

“you’re… a male nymph…” you whispered through the haze, the shocking statement slipping out more like a fact. you might have tried to flee the spring had you know from the start such a creature haunted it, but now it was too late.

your eyes, which should’ve been filled with terror, were chambers to carnal lust.

“i am.” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “i am the only one. just as you are the only one.” he nudged the tip of his cock against you, pushing against your belly button, the beady precum staining your skin. “we are special.”

“mhm...”

“and i will have you.” he said, not a promise, but a fact. “in my waters. on my land.”

he dropped under the water without further notice, a smooth disappearance that left you panting for more of his touch. you stood alone in the spring for what felt like ages; the curse fully upon you, your body trembling with want you never allowed yourself before.

then, fingertips — cool, wet, slightly rough — spread you apart.

“wha–” you started, looking down at your parted thighs. he was kneeling in the water, his long hair spread around him like a shimmering mantle. his pink eyes looked up at you, unwavering in their focus.

and, with a cheeky smirk, his mouth closed the gap with your cunt.

his long tongue first laid over your swollen clit, lazily, like he was tasting a rare fruit. your hands flew back to his hair, tangling themselves at the roots, holding on to keep him between your thighs.

“oh god.” you whimpered, the words strangled, mixing with the cascading water.

he hummed against your bundle of nerves, the vibration against your flesh driving you insane. then he prodded deeper, the tip of his tongue sliding inside you. you bucked, your thighs quivering shut, but the water wrapped around them — a slippery restraint that kept you open.

he kissed, licked, and sucked, building the pressure inside you with ruthless efficiency, as he was thrusting his tongue inside your gummy walls.

he was taking you apart, piece by piece, with his mouth alone.

your vision spotted. your breathing turned to ragged sobs. the tightness in your lower stomach stretched, coiled, wound too tight; your fingers mirrored it all, tugging at his hair harshly, pushing his mouth deeper into you.

and then…

“ra-af, noo–”

he pulled away.

you cried out in protest, a cruel, whimpering noise that sounded like music to his ears. he shook his head lightly, water spraying, and began to rise from beneath the spring. but he didn’t leave you hanging for long.

instead, he wrapped his arms around your thighs and lifted your body from the spring. the water helped him, pushing you up and forward, laying you down nicely for him. you were now out of the pool, sprawled on your back on the cool, damp grass bank.

the moonlight filled your vision.

“better.” he murmured, his body now towering over you, pinning your thighs apart with his strong arms. “i can feel you better now. all of you.”

he lowered his mouth back to your cunt, and this time, there was no water barrier. he sank his tongue inside you with a teasing thrust, pushing as much of his monstruous muscle in, then moved back to sucking hard on your clit. flicking his tongue, laying it flat, rolling it into strange patters only known to him.

his fingers returned his ministration against your tight walls, now scissoring your weeping hole and making your arousal drip down your thighs and onto the meadow.

“ah-aa-hh.”

it was too much.

the pleasure, foreign and brutal, pounded through you, like a horse galloping relentlessly on a beaten path. you began to toss your head, the grass and flowers crushing beneath your pleasure and pain.

“st-stop… please…”

he didn’t.

he sped up, the movements of his mouth and hands losing all pretense of rhythm, becoming a raw, predatory feast. your hands grabbed the plants from the earth, uprooting them in your violent climax. your legs, pathetically dangling from rafayel’s shoulder, dug into his body, clamping around his head and burying him deeper into your cunt.

“i’m gonna–” you sobbed, the warning unheard by the nymph.

he only grunted, the sound vibrating against your sickly convulsing flesh, as he replaced his mouth with his thumb. pressing down on your clit as he’d rather bit down, just softly, on your inner thigh.

“ff-uuck.”

that was it.

the coil snapped.

the orgasm ripped through you, stopping your heart and your breath in the same instant. you stared up at the moon, mouth agape, no sound escaping. it was relentless, a tornado of sensation that stripped you of every thought, every memory, every time you had ever been anything but a bundle of nerves being milked by a nymph.

he waited, his mouth nuzzling into your pussy, slowly lapping at the spasms that wrenched you. he only pulled back when you slumped, when the fire had consumed your fuel.

when tears, damp and hot, tracked down your temples, mixing with the spring and the sweat. your sobs began in earnest, wrenching, shaky things that come only after an unbearable pain.

he waited until they subsided into a still, drained silence. then he crawled up next to your body, like a light being raised from beneath the water, and gathered you into his arms. he held you, his face nestled in the wet spot where your neck met your shoulder.

trying to prepare you with sweet words for what was about to come.

“shh.” he said, his voice pure and sweet again. “we’re almost done, my human. you’re almost mine.”

the calm did not last.

the nectar in his spit, that potent aphrodisiac, began to fade from your veins like a receding tide. the haze of pleasure and compulsion lifted, revealing the raw, horrified clarity beneath. you lay in his arms on the damp grass, and your body began to tremble.

not with afterglow, but with a primal, rising dread.

he felt it. he felt your heart begin to race with a different rhythm — fear, not desire. he stirred, his chin lifting from your shoulder. his pink eyes, a moment ago soft and lidded, sharpened.

“ugh–”

you made your move.

a jerking, desperate twist of your hips, and you rolled away from him. the cool moss slammed against your back. you crawled. your legs, jelly-like and trembling, dragged underneath you. the memory of your dagger, lost in the pool, was a phantom pain in your palm.

“h-he–” your voice was a ruined thing, rasped from screams. only one word escaped it. “–lp!”

you got to your knees, your nakedness exposed under the moon. the camp. you needed to get to the camp. to your peers. to your fellow mercenaries, their blades and practical decencies.

“he–”

you stumbled forward, chaotic, one hand grasping at the air as if for a weapon.

behind you, there was no sound.

then, a low, inhuman sigh. it wasn’t anger. it was immense and scalpel-sharp disappointment.

“you are leaving?”

his voice was a cloud of mist from the spring, chill and dense. the charm was gone from it. it was pure, leftover power. you froze, but only for a second. you didn’t look back. you began to crawl faster, your bare feet slapping against the cold earth. the tree line, the campfire coals — it was only a few yards.

“you are leaving me.”

this time, the words were closer. right behind you. a rush of air, and then a hand — cool, wet, iron-strong — clamped around your ankle.

you screamed. a short, guttural sound of pure panic. you kicked back, your heel connecting with his mythical flesh.

…it felt like kicking a boulder.

he didn’t let go. he yanked. the ground felt away from your knees, and you fell, your chin plowing a short channel in the mud, your jaw locking forcefully. and before you could gather another breath, he was on you.

his weight pinned you, his body long and lithe but immovably heavy. his hands — one wrapped around your wrists, pinning them above your head — felt like water-smoothed rock.

the other hand went to your throat.

not to strangle. not yet.

“you would run from me?” he hissed, his face inches from yours, long hair falling around you like curtains. the exquisite, androgynous beauty was gone, erased by a snarl that bared his teeth. a bit too long, a bit too sharp. “you would leave the only thing in this forest that cares for you?”

“get off!” you spat, trying to buck, to knee him. the grass and moss were slippery with dew and your previous sweat. “you’re a monster! you touched me! you–”

he clamped his hand harder on your throat, not cutting off your air. but… silencing you. his thumb pressed into the dipping hollow at the base of your throat, making your eyes bulge.

“i cared for you.” he bit back, his breath fanning the tip of your nose. “i cleansed your wounds. i gave you pleasure you could never fantasize. i welcomed you.”

“you–”

he brought his mouth down suddenly, forcefully. it wasn’t a kiss. it was a seal. an act of ownership so violent it tilted towards punishment.

his lips were cold and unyielding as he forced them against yours, prizing your jaw open with his own. you resisted, clenching your teeth, shaking your head. he growled, a deep, dark sound that made your gut clench, and then bit down on your lower lip.

“ah!”

the pain was sharp, a perforation of coppery blood flooding your mouth. you gasped, and he took advantage of it.

his tongue shoved inside, not teasing, not tasting, but conquering. it was larger than a human tongue, slightly rough as it passed your teeth and scraped the roof of your mouth. he spat within you, a flood of that same sweet, spiced nectar. it was hot this time, burning a little as it sluiced down your throat.

you coughed, choking, but he swallowed it for you, his throat moving against yours, forcing you to process the liquid.

the effect was near instantaneous: a drunken, heavy warmth spread from your stomach outwards. your limbs, tense with panic, began to go limp in his hands. your jaw slackened, allowing him deeper access down your throat.

and oh, he knew. he relished this new state of yours.

he drank your surrender from your mouth with vigour.

when he finally pulled back to admire you, a silver string of his nectar and your saliva connected your lips for a moment before breaking. your eyes were glazed, your breathing hitched and shallow, barely registering the man straddling you.

“there.” he whispered, his rage cooling into a scary, triumphant calm.

he released your wrists, but your arms didn’t move. they lay back in the grass as he had placed them, obeying his will. he trailed his fingertips down your arm, across your collarbone, over your marked breasts.

your nipple peaked under his touch, not with chill nor pleasure, but with a drugged, involuntary arousal. he leaned down and lavished a hot, wet kiss on the tip, earning a whine from your docile lips.

“so pliant again.” he murmured. “so perfect for me.”

he adjusted his position, his knees pressing your thighs further apart. you felt his erection — heavy, throbbing, the tip brushing against your clit. then down to the entrance of your sopping, trembling cunt.

the foliage that was previously there dispersed completely, choosing to tangle along his torso and legs.

“i would fuck you right here.” he breathed, his voice rich with possessive lust and restlessness. “in the grass. where any of the forest could see. and i would. but…”

he looked down at you, at your half-lidded eyes, the tears tracking through the dirt on your cheeks and chin. “you might make a sound. your peers… they might come.”

he frowned, a childish, sulky dip on his brow. “i don’t want to share.”

with that, he shifted. he kept his weight on you, but pushed away with his arms. he propped himself between your thighs, his cock pressed against your sticky folds.

using one hand to guide himself, while freeing the other to clamp over your mouth.

“don’t.” he ordered, his eyes narrowing. “not a sound.”

then he pushed in.

there was no further preparation, no care for your tenderness. the nectar had relaxed you, made you slippery, but the sheer size of his inhuman cock made you choke — it was like being rammed open by a tree root.

you arched your back, a silent scream slashing your soul. your nails scraped at the earth, digging tiny graves in the soil.

he sank in one swift motion, up to the hilt, then paused. his eyes were closed, his breathing uneven. he was savoring the feel of you, the tight, hot clench of your warm human body around his.

finally…

“mine.” he breathed, and then began to move.

his thrusts were not the graceful glides of a lover. they were possessive ruts, deep and measured, each one aimed to mark you from the inside. he used his whole body, leveraging his weight to drive himself as deep as possible.

the sound was a wet, slapping cadence that tore through the night.

“see?” he hissed, leaning down to nip at your ear. “see how we fit? you were made for me.”

you couldn’t answer — from pain and pleasure. your eyes rolled back, washed over by tears, fixed on the branches above. the world tilted more and more towards an otherworldly reality.

“f-fuck.”

he grabbed your twitching legs, his hands slippery against your skin, and hoisted them up. he folded you as he pleased, pushing your knees up towards your chest. your ass lifted from the grass, and this angle — deep, made for breeding — made his penetration feel even more profound, more punishing.

he lost his rhythm completely, his thrusts becoming a series of brutal, tumbling drives as your hungry pussy devoured every inch of his cock.

“you’re mine.” he growled with each push, a mantra of irrational possessiveness spoken into your flesh. “mine. mine. forever. i will keep you here. in my spring. in my embrace. you will never leave.”

his pace became punishingly fast, a piston-drive of carnal lust. the pleasure, relentless and bred from pain, began to coil again inside you, thumping into your lower tummy. your body, soaked in his nectar-like saliva, started to clench around him harsher, drawing him deeper.

milking him of everything he got.

he moaned, a high, sorrowful sound. “i’m close… i’m… no, not yet…”

but his body overruled him. he drove into you one last, teeth-clattering thrust, his chest collapsing against your folded legs.

spilling inside you.

it wasn’t a climax as mortals knew it. it was an overflow. a river of him, hot and copious, flooding your insides. it kept coming and coming, each pulse laying another claim on your hot mortal flesh. you felt it filling you, washing against your cervix, pressure building inside your abdomen.

“ah-ah…”

when he finally stilled, his body heavy and limp on yours, your lower belly was swollen, bloated outwards in a soft, impossible way. he slid a hand down between your bodies, parting your pliant legs, and pressed a palm down on your stomach.

you moaned, a low, guttural sound of satiation. of fullness.

“yes.” he whispered, rubbing his webbed hand over the slight bulge. “yes. imprinted. filled with me.”

he slowly, carefully withdrew from you, and the only thing keeping his cum from cascading out of you was the plump, heavy weight of it in your belly.

he lay next to you, propped on an elbow, and watched you.

he watched as his cum leaked out of your ravaged hole, a pale, pearlescent stream on the grass. he watched as the plants of the forest, drawn by his own essence, began to grow. tendrils of ivy, fragrant jasmine, and delicate, creeping black roses sprouted from the earth beneath your body. they coiled around your limbs, fine vines wrapping your ankles, blossoms blooming in the hollow of your collarbone.

they too were marking you, blending you with the forest, making you part of his territory.

“you see?” he said, his voice soft and enchanting once more. he plucked a blossom of moonflower and twirled it between his fingers. “the forest already claims you. in one week, you will forget them. in a month, you will forget there is anywhere else. your world will be this grove. your skin will smell of my moss, your hair of my rain. your womb…”

he trailed his hand down to your belly again. “your womb will always keep a trace of me.”

he leaned down and kissed your bloodied lips, tongue prodding at your heavy-lidded eyes to gather the salty tears of your demise. it was gentle, almost apologetic — at least on the surface.

“sleep now, my mortal love.” he murmured. “your life has yet to start.”

he gathered you in his arms, cradling you like a precious trinket, and he disappeared with you into the darkened shadows of the grove. the only sign that remained of the encounter was a patch of crushed, blooming grass, the pearlescent pool of his essence seeping into the soil.

oh, and the distant, growing light of a mercenary campfire — a light that would never guide you home again.

©pearlescenthoney 2025. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

There are few things you hate most in this world.

Wasps and hornets. Certain shades of orange — specifically, aggressively, fluorescent orange. Injustice. The texture of velvet against your fingertips. Overcooked pasta. People who don’t use turn signals. The sound of styrofoam.

But nothing, nothing takes the cake more than two very specific things.

Weddings.

And Sylus Qin.

You didn’t always hate weddings. That was important to clarify, at least to yourself, in the privacy of your own head where no one could call you bitter. There was a time when you thought they were lovely — the flowers, the vows, the particular kind of joy that seemed to exist only in the space between I do and the first dance. You had cried at your cousin’s wedding when you were eleven. Happy tears. Genuine ones.

Then you got older, and weddings became something else entirely.

They became the place where distant relatives asked why you weren’t next with a smile that didn’t quite reach their eyes. They became seating charts that put you next to someone’s recently divorced uncle who wanted to talk about cryptocurrency. They became the slow, creeping awareness that you were always attending, never — and you were fine with this, mostly, on regular Tuesdays — participating.

And then there was the plus one problem.

Weddings required plus ones the way sentences required punctuation. Without one, you were grammatically incorrect. A fragment. Something to be corrected with a sympathetic tilt of the head and a “oh, you came alone?” that landed like a paper cut every single time.

So no, you didn’t hate weddings in theory. You hated what they did to you in practice.

Which brought you, with the kind of narrative inevitability you’d recognize in any manuscript you were reading, to the current situation.

Six months ago, you’d received a voice note from Luna — your best friend since you were both seven years old and equally terrible at cartwheels in her parents’ backyard — that had started with screaming. Good screaming. The kind that made you pull your phone away from your ear before she’d even gotten to words.

We set the date! June twenty-seventh! You’re coming and you’re bringing someone fabulous and I won’t hear otherwise!

June twenty-seventh. A Saturday. Plenty of time.

That was what you’d told yourself in March.

And in April.

And, with slightly less conviction, in May.

It was now June third. The wedding was twenty-four days away. And you had, in your defense, accomplished one very important thing — you’d found the most beautiful pink floral dress you’d ever seen, fitted perfectly, paired with heels that made you feel like a person who had their life together. The dress was hanging on your wardrobe door right now, doing its job beautifully.

The plus one situation, however, remained. Unresolved. Aggressively, mockingly unresolved.

And don’t even get you started on Sylus Qin.

On paper, he was your colleague. A fellow writer at the same publication, which was the most flattering possible framing and the one you used exclusively in professional settings. In reality he was your opponent. Your adversary. The single most infuriating person you had encountered in three years of sharing an industry, an office building, and — on one particularly cursed occasion — a table at the National Press Awards.

He was annoying. He was ruthless in the quiet, unbothered way that was somehow worse than obvious ruthlessness. He never missed a chance to take a story from right underneath your nose, or to mention, with that maddening almost-smile, that your editor had loved his latest piece. He was an asshole. He was, by every available account, a heartbreaker — the kind of person people fell for despite knowing better, sometimes because they knew better, and that said something deeply unflattering about human nature that you preferred not to examine too closely.

He was everything you disliked wrapped in one disgustingly handsome face.

And the suit situation. God, the suit situation. The man wore fitted suits to an office where half the staff worked in hoodies, and he did it without apparent irony or self-consciousness, and they fit him in ways that should have been subject to some kind of professional regulation. You had complained about this to your friend Leah once and she had looked at you for a long moment before saying, very gently, that sounds like a you problem. Which it wasn’t. It was a him problem. He was the one choosing to show up like that.

Anyway.

You were staring at a list.

It lived in your nicest notebook — a soft green one you’d bought with the intention of using for story ideas, which said something about how seriously you’d taken the plus one problem at the time of writing. Fourteen names. Fourteen perfectly reasonable, theoretically available people you had catalogued in January with the confidence of someone who had options.

The confidence had not survived contact with reality.

You sat at your kitchen table in the early morning light of June third, coffee going cold beside the notebook, and looked at the damage.

Rafayel — crossed out. Pottery class girlfriend. Genuinely happy. Devastating.

Xavier — crossed out. Vancouver. Good for her.

Caleb — crossed out. The gala incident. Unspoken. Permanent.

The list continued in this vein for ten more names, each one a small closed door, until you reached the bottom.

One name. Uncrossed.

You had written it yourself, in your own handwriting, which meant you had at some point considered it a viable option. You didn’t remember the specific moment. You must have been tired. Or perhaps you’d been approaching the list with a completionist’s mindset, a cover all bases philosophy, a this is hypothetical anyway energy that had allowed you to write it without fully processing what you were writing.

Sylus Qin.

You stared at it.

It stared back.

Outside, the June morning was doing something deeply unfair with the light — golden and warm and full of the kind of romantic possibility that felt personally targeted given your circumstances.

You turned the notebook face-down.

You picked up your coffee.

You turned the notebook back over.

Fourteen names. Thirteen crossed out. Twenty-four days until Luna’s wedding and you’d promised her someone fabulous.

You picked up your phone before the reasonable part of your brain could lodge a formal objection.

It rang twice.

“Well… kitten,” said Sylus Qin, and even in eight letters his voice managed to be infuriating — low and unhurried, threaded through with amusement, like he’d already identified the punchline. “This is unexpected.”

“Don’t make it weird,” you said immediately.

A pause. “I haven’t said anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I was going to say good morning.”

You pressed your lips together. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, sweetie.” The smile in it was audible. Insufferable. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You had prepared for this. Mentally rehearsed a version that was breezy and casual, maybe even magnanimous — I thought of you, actually, figured it could be fun — a version where you held all the power and he was the one caught off guard for once.

That version did not survive the first syllable.

“I need a plus one,” you said. “To a wedding. June twenty-seventh. And before you say anything — I want you to know that you are not my first choice.”

Silence.

Then, very carefully: “I see.”

“Or my second. Or my fifth or my eighth.”You were aware, distantly, that this was not going well. “You are my last choice. You are the name at the bottom of a list that has been significantly reduced through circumstances largely outside my control, and I am calling you because the wedding is in twenty-four days and I told Luna I would have a plus one and I am a person who keeps her word.” A breath. “So. I need a plus one.”

A longer silence this time.

You braced yourself. Something arch and knowing was coming. Something you could hang up on cleanly.

“What’s the dress code?” said Sylus.

You blinked. “...What?”

“The wedding. Dress code.”

“Garden formal,” you said slowly. “Why?”

“Because if it’s black tie I’ll need to check if the suit’s been cleaned.” A beat. “Garden formal is fine. When should I pick you up?”

You stood very still.

“You’re — you’re saying yes?”

“You called me,” he said, with the patience of a man who had nowhere better to be and knew it was annoying you. “I assumed that was the hope.”

“I — yes, but I also called you last,” you said, as though this might change something. “On a list. Of fourteen people.”

“I’m aware of what last means.”

“This is purely logistical,” you said, pivoting, because if he wasn’t going to have the decency to make this difficult you were going to establish parameters immediately. “I want that on record.”

“Noted.”

“You’re doing me a favor and that’s all this is.”

“Of course.”

“And this has nothing to do with our — our professional situation—”

“The ongoing rivalry?”

“I was going to say dynamic, but fine, yes, the rivalry, this has absolutely nothing to do with that, we are simply two people who are—”

“Going to a wedding together,” Sylus supplied. “In the countryside.”

“For a weekend.”

“Mm.” Not quite agreement. Not quite anything. “Text me the details.”

He hung up.

You set the phone down next to the notebook. Next to the list of fourteen names, thirteen of which were crossed out, the last of which had answered on the second ring and asked about the dress code before you’d finished explaining why he was a last resort.

The pink floral dress hung on your wardrobe door in the next room. Beautiful. Perfect. Ready.

You were so entirely, catastrophically unprepared for the next twenty-four days.

You drank your cold coffee anyway. You were going to need to build a tolerance for deeply unpleasant things.

Starting now.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

read the rest on ao3 <3

He’d been a pervert for you since the day he figured out what his dick was for. Peeking through the crack in your bedroom door when you changed, “accidentally” brushing against your chest when you hugged him goodnight, timing his showers so he could barge in on yours and catch glimpses through the steam. Every girl his age looked boring, small, forgettable next to you—your curves, your voice, the way your tits filled out every shirt, the sway of your hips when you walked past him in the hallway.

He didn’t want them. He wanted the one person he wasn’t supposed to want.

And it made him miserable in the best, most twisted way.

He’d lie in bed at night, hand wrapped around that huge cock everyone envied, stroking himself raw to the thought of you. Imagining your tits in his mouth, your thighs spread for him, your voice calling him “caleb~” while he buried himself inside you. He’d cum so hard he saw stars, then hate himself for it, then do it again the next night.

Virgin. Loser. Obsessed.

All because the only pussy he craved was the one he grew up calling jiejie.

The perfect, handsome guy everyone thought was a player was, in reality, a desperate, untouched pervert who belonged—body, cock, and soul—to his strict, beautiful jiejie.

—

—

Caleb’s room at night is always the same ritual.

Door locked, lights off, phone hidden under the pillow in case Gran knocks. He pulls open the bottom drawer of his dresser—the one with the false back he built himself—and takes out the small bundle he’s stashed there— three pairs of your panties, carefully rotated so none stay missing too long. The softest ones, the ones you wear most often. He knows because he’s watched you fold laundry enough times to memorize which you reach for first.

Tonight it’s the pale pink cotton pair with the little bow at the front. He presses them to his face immediately, inhaling deep, eyes fluttering shut. Your scent is still there—warm skin, faint laundry detergent, and that unmistakable trace of you that makes his cock throb painfully against his thigh. He’s already leaking, a wet spot forming on his boxers before he even touches himself.

He strips fast, kicking everything off until he’s naked on his bed, knees drawn up, panties clutched in one hand. The other wraps around his huge cock—too thick for his fingers to meet, veins standing out from how hard he is just from smelling you.

“Jiejie…” he whispers into the dark, voice cracking as he starts stroking slow. He drags the panties down his face, over his lips, tongue darting out to taste the crotch where you’ve been all day. The fabric is soft from countless washes, but he swears he can still feel your warmth in it. “Fuck… you smell so good… always so good…”

He pictures you the way he’s seen you a thousand times—bending over to pick something up, tank top dipping low; stepping out of the bathroom in just a towel, hair wet; lying on the couch with your legs tucked under you, tits heavy and soft under thin fabric. Every stolen glimpse he’s hoarded for years plays on loop behind his closed eyes.

His strokes speed up, hips rocking into his fist. He presses the panties harder against his nose, breathing you in like oxygen. “Please… jiejie… miss you so much…” The words come out muffled, broken. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes because it hurts—his chest aches with how much he needs you, how wrong it is, how he can’t stop.

He remembers when you used to tuck him in as a kid, kiss his forehead, call him “didi~” in that soft voice. You raised him more than anyone, bandaged his scraped knees, helped with homework, held him when he had nightmares. You’re supposed to be sacred. Untouchable.

But he’s filthy for you.

Pre-cum slicks his palm, making the slide easier, faster. He bites the pillow to muffle the sob that rips out of him when he imagines you catching him like this—walking in, seeing him humping his hand with your panties against his face. Would you be disgusted? Angry? Or would you… touch him? Call him sweet even while he’s being depraved?

That thought sends him over.

He cums with your name muffled against the fabric, thick ropes spilling over his fist, stomach, dripping down his balls. His whole body shakes with it, hips jerking helplessly as wave after wave hits. Tears slip free now, hot on his cheeks, because even the release doesn’t ease the ache. It just makes him miss you more.

When it’s over he stays curled on his side, panting, still clutching your panties. He wipes himself clean with them—slow, deliberate—then folds them carefully and tucks them under his pillow for tomorrow night.

He falls asleep like that, face buried in the soft cotton that smells like you, whispering “I’m sorry, jiejie… I love you… I’m so sorry…” into the dark until exhaustion takes him.

Virgin. Pathetic. Completely, hopelessly yours.

And nobody—not his friends, not the girls who chase him, not even God—will ever understand how deep it goes.

But the thing is, Caleb is unraveling.

He tells himself he’s doing the right thing. That if he can just cut the cord—stop peeking, stop stealing your panties, stop jerking off to the sound of your voice through the wall—maybe the ache will finally dull. Maybe he’ll stop being the pathetic virgin loser who’s in love with his big sister figure.

It starts the day he sees you getting ready for a date.

You’re in the bathroom, door half-open like always, curling your hair, wearing that tight little dress that hugs your tits and makes your ass look unreal. You’re humming, smiling at yourself in the mirror, excited. He catches a glimpse from the hallway and feels his stomach drop.

Another guy. Again.

He’s hated every single one of your boyfriends with a venom that scared even him. They were never good enough—too handsy, too smug, too eager to touch what should’ve been… No. He can’t think like that anymore.

So he decides to stop.

He stops answering your texts. When you send “dinner’s ready, come down” or “can you grab milk on your way home?” he leaves you on read. He stops coming out of his room when you’re in the living room. Stops saying good morning. Stops everything.

At first you think he’s just moody. You knock on his door, soft voice through the wood: “Caleb? Everything okay, baby?”

He presses his forehead to the door, hand clenched around his phone, and doesn’t answer. Because if he opens it he’ll break—he’ll fall to his knees and beg you not to go out with that guy, beg you to let him touch you instead.

He starts staying out later—basketball practice, “hanging with the guys,” anything to avoid being home when you come back from dates. He hears you sometimes, late at night, laughing quietly on the phone in your room, voice all soft and sweet for someone else. Each giggle is a knife.

He hates himself for the relief he felt when your last relationship ended. You’d been quiet for weeks, curled up on the couch in his hoodies, eyes red from crying. He’d brought you tea without being asked, sat close but not too close, let you lean on his shoulder while you watched sad movies. For a little while, you were just his again.

Now you’re glowing. Texting someone new. Going out. Coming home with that flushed, happy look he’s never been the one to put on your face.

He can’t stand it.

So he locks himself in his room and tries to purge you from his system. Deletes the hidden folder of candid photos he’s taken of you over the years. Throws out the panties he’s kept—then digs them out of the trash at 3 a.m. because he’s weak. Tries to jerk off thinking about anyone else—literally anyone—and can’t even stay hard unless he lets himself imagine your tits, your scent, your voice moaning his name.

Every night he ends up the same way—face buried in his pillow, sobbing quietly as he fucks his fist, whispering “jiejie… please… I love you… I’m sorry…” while he cums harder than ever. Then hates himself more than ever.

He ignores your calls. Your “are you mad at me?” texts. The worried notes you start leaving on his door.

He tells himself it’s for the best. That if he can just stay away, maybe you’ll never know what a sick fuck he is. Maybe he’ll learn to live with the fact that you’ll never be his.

But every time he hears you leave for another date, makeup perfect, perfume lingering in the hallway, something inside him breaks a little more.

He’s not okay.

He’s drowning.

And the worst part—the part that makes him feel truly pathetic—is that even now, even while he’s ignoring you, he’s still waiting.Still hoping, somewhere deep and stupid and hopeless, that one day you’ll choose him.

So oneday when he's drunk as fuck, he decides if he'll sleep with someone else, maybe he'll forget you.

The party is a blur of pounding music and colored lights that make Caleb’s head spin even harder. He’s drunk—way past his limit—because tonight he is supposed to fix himself. Tonight he is supposed to prove he could want someone else.

Two girls have been on him all night: one blonde with eager hands sliding under his shirt, the other brunette pressing red-lipstick kisses along his jaw, whispering things he doesn’t even hear. They dragged him to a dark corner of the couch, mouths on his neck, fingers tugging at his belt. Everyone else is too wasted to care.

He tries. God, he tries.

He lets them touch him, lets their hands roam, lets one straddle his lap while the other bites his earlobe. He tells himself this is normal. This is what guys his age do. This will burn you out of his system, jiejie. This will make the ache stop.

But nothing happens.

His body stays soft, lifeless, no matter how they grind against him or how many times they giggle about how “big” he must be. Panic creeps in first, then something darker—like the air is thickening, turning to tar in his lungs. Their hands feel wrong, foreign, invasive. Their mouths burn like acid on his skin. The room tilts, the lights smear, and suddenly he’s drowning in deep water, unseen fingers ripping at him, tearing him apart from the inside. He's drowning even more, everything around him is pitch black, light doesn't hit here, he tries to reach for something, anything but nothing falls in his grasp.

He can’t breathe.

He moves his limbs like a dying fish—maybe because he's dying. He's struggling, trying to pull him up, hold something to anchor himself.

There's hands of people he doesn't know, doesn't want holds him back, pulling him deeper into the infinite darkness. He feels his skin tearing apart, his heart so heavy it might fall out of his chest— he feels violated. He doesn't want this.

A strangled sound tears out of his throat—half-sob, half-scream—and he thrashes, shoving them off with more force than he means to. The girls reel back, confused, then angry.

“What the fuck, Caleb?”

“Seriously? Can’t even get it up?”

Someone nearby snickers. “Guess the rumors were bullshit.”

He doesn’t hear the rest. He’s already stumbling through the crowd, shoving people aside, bursting out the front door into the freezing night air. It slices into his lungs, sharp and clean, but it doesn’t help. His skin is crawling where they touched him—neck, chest, mouth—like their hands left bruises that go straight to bone.

He runs.

Barely feels the cold pavement under his sneakers, barely notices the tears freezing on his cheeks. He just runs until his legs burn and his chest feels like it’s going to explode.

“Caleb?”

Your voice cuts through the static in his head like a lifeline.

He stops so abruptly he almost falls. You’re standing on the sidewalk in your coat, phone in hand—you must’ve been looking for him after he didn’t answer any texts. The streetlight catches your face, worried and soft, and something inside him shatters completely.

You step closer, hesitant. “Caleb, what—”

He drops.

Knees hitting the concrete hard enough to bruise, arms wrapping around your waist like you’re the only solid thing in the world. His face presses into your stomach, and the sobs rip out of him—ugly, broken, uncontrollable.

“Jiejie…” It’s barely a word, more a wet, drunken wail. “I’m—I’m so fucked up… I tried… I tried to… I couldn’t… they touched me and it hurt… it hurt so bad… I can’t… I can’t do it…”

His whole body is shaking, fingers clutching the fabric of your coat like he’ll float away if he lets go.

You freeze for only a second, heart twisting at the sight of him—your cocky, bratty little brother reduced to this raw, trembling mess on the ground. Then your arms are around him, pulling him closer, one hand cradling the back of his head, fingers threading gently through his damp hair.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay… I’ve got you,” you murmur, voice steady even though your chest aches. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

He’s hiccupping now, face buried against you, smearing tears and snot and leftover lipstick onto your coat. “Hic… not feeling good… plz jiejie… hold me… love me… don’t let go… please…”

You glance at the red stains on his neck, the smudged lipstick around his mouth, and sigh softly—not angry, just heartbroken. You’ve never seen him like this. Not once. The mischievous pervert who lived to annoy you is gone, and in his place is someone small and terrified and desperately needing his jiejie.

“I’m not letting go,” you whisper, tightening your arms around him. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

You help him stand—he’s too tall for you to carry, but he leans heavily on you the whole walk back, head on your shoulder, still crying quietly. Every few steps he mumbles something incoherent, your name over and over like a prayer.

You get him inside the house with his arm slung heavy over your shoulders, his tall frame leaning almost all its weight on you. He smells like cheap vodka, sweat, and something sharp—tears, maybe. The door clicks shut behind you, and the sudden quiet of the living room feels too loud after the chaos outside.

You don’t ask questions yet. You just hold him, guide him to the couch, wrap him in the big blanket you both used to fight over as kids. He curls into you immediately, face pressed to your chest, arms locked around your waist.

And for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t pull away.

He just breathes you in, shaky and wrecked, and lets you hold him together.

Caleb doesn’t let go.

His fingers dig into your hips through your coat, anchoring himself like he’s scared the floor will open up and swallow him if he loosens his grip even a little. His face is pressed to the side of your neck, hot breaths coming in shaky pants against your skin. Every exhale is a whimper, a broken little sound that twists something deep in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, over and over, lips brushing your jaw with every word. “I’m sorry, jiejie… sorry… sorry…”

You try to guide him toward his room, but his hold tightens, pulling you closer instead. “Caleb—” you start, voice soft but firm, meaning to tell him to sit, to breathe, to calm down.

He doesn’t let you finish.

His mouth finds your jaw, clumsy and desperate, pressing open-mouthed kisses that are more drool than anything else. Down to your neck, your cheek, wherever he can reach. He’s shaking, glassy eyes unfocused, tears still leaking steadily down his flushed face. He looks completely undone—your bratty, cocky Caleb reduced to this raw, trembling mess.

“I love you so much…” he sobs, voice cracking on every word. “Hic—I love you so much… jiejie…”

Your heart stutters. You’ve heard him say it a thousand times growing up—sleepy mumbles when he was little, casual throwaways when he wanted something—but never like this. Never with this kind of weight.

You take a slow breath through your nose, hand coming up to cradle the back of his head. “I know, Caleb,” you murmur, fingers threading gently through his messy hair. “I love you too—”

“NO!”

The word rips out of him, half-scream, half-sob. Before you can react, he’s moving—hands gripping your waist, pushing you down onto the couch with surprising strength for someone so drunk. You let out a startled squeak as your back hits the cushions, coat falling open. He follows immediately, hovering over you, knees bracketing your hips, tears dripping from his cheeks onto your face and collarbone.

He’s crying harder now, shoulders shaking, but his eyes are fixed on yours—pleading, terrified, like he’s finally saying the thing that’s been killing him for years.

“Not like that…” he whispers, voice hoarse and trembling. “Not like how you expect me to… hic… not like a brother should…”

He lowers himself slowly, carefully, until his head rests between your breasts. His cheek presses to the soft skin just above your neckline, chin nestled in the valley, arms sliding under your back to hold you closer. He nuzzles in like he’s trying to burrow inside you, like your warmth is the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

“I love you nasty, jiejie…” The confession spills out against your skin, raw and devastating. “I love you in a way that’s wrong… against everything… hic… I love you so bad it makes me wanna ruin myself. Ruin you. Ruin everything…”

A broken little laugh escapes him, wet and self-loathing. He presses a soft, reverent kiss to the swell of your chest, right over your heartbeat.

“I learned what love was from you,” he whispers, voice barely audible now, thick with tears. “You raised me… you were always there… and somehow I ended up loving you like this instead. Like a fucking idiot. Hopelessly… completely… in love with my own jiejie.”

The words hang in the air between you.

Your mouth falls open, breath catching in your throat. You stare down at him—his tear-streaked face half-buried in your chest, eyes squeezed shut, body trembling against yours—and feel something shift inside you, something huge and irreversible.

He’s drunk, yes.

But he’s also never been more honest.

And the truth he just poured out at your feet is one you’ve felt brushing against the edges of your awareness for years—the lingering touches, the way his eyes followed you, the tension that’s been building like a storm.

He loves you.

Not like a brother.

Like a man who’s been drowning in you his whole life.

You stay frozen for a long moment, heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can feel it against his cheek. Then, slowly, your hand moves—fingers sliding into his hair again, cradling him closer instead of pushing him away.

He whimpers at the touch, clinging tighter, like he’s terrified you’ll reject him now that it’s out.

But you don’t.

You just hold him, letting the weight of his confession settle over both of you in the quiet living room, the beginning of something neither of you can take back.

You pull him closer without thinking, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders to steady him—to steady yourself. His face is still buried in your chest, hot tears soaking through your shirt, but the moment your fingers tighten in his hair, something shifts.

He lifts his head just enough to start kissing your skin—messy, desperate, open-mouthed presses that leave wet trails along your neck. His lips drag sloppily down to your collarbone, then lower, dipping into the soft valley of your cleavage as he nuzzles deeper. Each kiss is uncoordinated, drunk and needy, but the heat of his mouth makes you gasp despite yourself.

“Caleb,” you say, voice shaky, trying to warn him, trying to stop this before it goes too far. “Caleb, wait—”

But in his fuzzy, alcohol-soaked brain, your voice saying his name over and over sounds like encouragement. Sounds like yes.

He groans low in his throat, hands sliding down your sides until his fingers grip your plush thighs. He pushes them apart with surprising strength, slotting himself between them on the couch, his weight pressing you deeper into the cushions.

“Caleb—” It comes out louder this time, half-groan, half-plea, as his clumsy fingers fumble under your dress. He hooks your panties with trembling hands, yanking them down your legs in one impatient tug. The fabric catches on your ankle before he tosses it aside. His knuckles bump against your clit as he spreads you open, accidental but electric, and a whimper escapes you before you can stop it.

“Caleb!”

His glassy eyes snap up to meet yours—red-rimmed, wet, full of raw desperation. For a second he just stares, breathing hard, like he’s waiting for you to shove him away.

Then he dips his head and tries to kiss you.

The first attempt lands on the tip of your nose, sloppy and off-center. He pauses, breath hitching, but you don’t pull back. Instead, you tilt your face up, meeting him halfway. Your hands grip his shoulders as your lips finally connect.

The kiss is messy, inexperienced on his end—teeth clacking at first, too much tongue, too much urgency—but so full of everything he’s never said out loud that it steals your breath. You kiss him back just as hard, fingers digging into the muscle of his arms, tasting vodka and salt from his tears.

He moans into your mouth, low and broken, hips starting to move on instinct. You feel it immediately—his cock, thick and burning hot even through his jeans, rutting against your bare pussy in slow, desperate grinds. Each drag of his clothed length over your slick folds makes you both shudder.

Reality slams into you.

You break the kiss with a gasp, hand flying to his chest. “Wait—wait, Caleb… what… what are you—”

He freezes, looking down at the obscene tent in his pants like he’s only just noticing it. Then, without hesitation, he yanks his jeans and boxers down in one frantic motion. His cock springs free—heavy, flushed, bigger than you ever imagined—and you let out a startled squeak, eyes wide.

He looks back at you, tears still clinging to his lashes, expression crumbling into something heartbreakingly vulnerable. Like a kicked puppy left out in the rain.

“What do you think, jiejie?” he whispers, voice small and slurred, hiccupping through the tears. “Am I… am I good enough… hic… for your love?”

The question hangs in the air, raw and devastating.

Your mind is spinning—wrong, this is wrong, he’s drunk, he’s your so-called-brother—but your heart is pounding so hard it drowns everything else out. You see it all in his face: years of hiding, of hurting, of loving you in silence until it nearly destroyed him.

You swallow hard, lips trembling.

“Yes,” you whisper finally, voice barely audible but steady. You reach up, cupping his wet cheek. “You’re worthy of my love, Caleb. My everything.”

His breath catches on a sob—relief, disbelief, gratitude all at once. Fresh tears spill over as he drops his forehead to yours, body shaking.

“Jiejie…” he chokes out, like a prayer.

In that moment, with his confession still echoing between you and his bare cock throbbing against your thigh, you know there’s no going back.

Not for either of you.

One second he’s hovering over you on the couch, forehead pressed to yours, tears dripping onto your skin as he whispers how hopelessly in love he is. The next, the weight of it all seems to crash into him—relief, terror, pure desperate need—and he surges forward.

He hauls you up off the couch with shaky arms, stumbling toward your bedroom door. Your back hits the wood with a soft thud as he pins you there, mouth crashing back onto yours in a messy, frantic kiss. His body presses flush against you, hips rolling instinctively, and you feel it immediately—his bare cock, thick and burning hot, grinding against your slick, exposed pussy.

He’s sobbing into the kiss, hips jerking clumsily, the swollen head of his cock bumping over your clit again and again. Every accidental slide sends sparks shooting up your spine, makes you both gasp into each other’s mouths.

“Can’t… can’t put it in…” he whimpers against your lips, voice breaking with frustration and tears. “Sorry… sorry, jiejie… I’m too drunk… fuck…”

He keeps trying anyway, rutting helplessly, pre-cum mixing with your wetness, turning every drag into torturous pleasure. His length slides through your folds, nudging your entrance but never quite catching, teasing you both until you’re trembling against the door.

You shouldn’t.

You really, really shouldn’t.

But watching him fall apart—your proud, beautiful Caleb reduced to this sobbing, desperate mess trying to get inside you—breaks whatever restraint you have left.

Your hand slips between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his cock.

Oh god.

He’s so thick your fingers barely meet, velvet-soft skin over steel, throbbing so hard you can feel his heartbeat in your palm. A shiver races down your spine at how heavy he is, how perfectly he fills your grip.

Caleb lets out a broken moan at the first touch, hips stuttering forward into your hand.

You guide him gently, lining the flushed head with your dripping entrance, coating him in your slick. Then you lean in, lips brushing his ear, voice soft and sweet like you’re soothing a frightened child.

“Now try to thrust, baby~”

The words hit him like a match to gasoline.

He whimpers—high, wrecked—and snaps his hips forward.

One hard, clumsy thrust and he’s inside you, stretching you wide, filling you so suddenly you both cry out. Your head thumps back against the door as he bottoms out, thick length buried to the hilt.

Then he loses it.

He starts moving immediately—wild, off-rhythm thrusts that slam into you too hard, too fast, knocking the air from your lungs with every snap of his hips.

“Caleb—Caleb!” you gasp, smacking his shoulder weakly. “Slow down! Slowly!”

He groans like it physically hurts to obey, but he forces himself to slow, breaths coming in ragged sobs. His hands grip your thighs, lifting one leg to hook over his arm, spreading you wider. Then he’s walking you backward toward the bed, still buried deep, until your knees hit the mattress and you fall onto it.

Clothes scatter everywhere in the frenzy—your dress shoved up and bunched under your breasts, his cheap t-shirt hanging open off his shoulders, jeans kicked off somewhere on the floor. He stays standing at the edge of the bed, your leg thrown over his shoulder, fucking you sideways in deep, deliberate strokes now.

Sweat glistens on his chest, abs flexing with every roll of his hips. His cock drags slow and heavy inside you, veins pulsing against your walls, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing louder than your moans.

You grip the sheets until your knuckles go white, head thrown back, lost in the overwhelming feeling of him finally inside you—your sweet, broken Caleb claiming you the only way he knows how.

And neither of you is thinking about stopping anymore.

The night blurs into a haze of sweat-slicked skin and desperate need after that first frantic coupling on the bed. Caleb's drunken haze doesn't dull his stamina—it amplifies it, turning him into an insatiable force, thrusting through round after round until neither of you can keep track. Clothes are long gone, scattered like forgotten memories across the floor; you're both fully naked now, bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and heat.

He hauls you up from the bed mid-thrust, strong arms lifting you like you weigh nothing. Your back slams against the bedroom wall with a thud that rattles the pictures, your legs wrapping instinctively around his hips. He's still buried deep inside you, cock throbbing from his first release, cum already leaking down your thighs as he pins you there.

"Jiejie... fuck, you're so tight... so perfect..." he babbles, voice slurred and whimpering, hips snapping forward in a brutal rhythm. His hands grip your ass, fingers digging into the plush flesh, spreading you wider as he pounds into you. The wall digs into your back, but the pain only heightens the pleasure—every thrust drives him impossibly deep, his thick length stretching you to your limits.

You gasp, nails raking down his sweat-glistened back. "Caleb—oh god, yes—harder..."

He obeys with a broken moan, slamming in with reckless abandon. His greedy hands roam everywhere—squeezing your thighs, groping your hips, sliding up to palm your bouncing tits roughly. "Love these... love you... hic... can't stop... gonna cum again—fuck, jiejie, I'm gonna fill you up more..."

And he does. His thrusts stutter, a high-pitched whimper tearing from his throat as he unloads another thick load deep inside you. You feel it—hot, endless ropes pulsing against your walls, overflowing your pussy until it drips down his balls and onto the floor. "So much... ahh... take it all, please... love filling you..."

You clench around him, moaning at how full you feel, his cum already seeping out with every shallow thrust. You've never had anyone cum like this—almost too much, like his body won't stop producing it, flooding you until you're stuffed and slick. "Caleb... you're cumming so much... it's so deep..."

He doesn't pull out. Instead, he carries you back to the bed, cock still hard and twitching inside you, and flips you both so you're straddling him. His hands grab your hips immediately, guiding you up and down his length as you start bouncing.

"Ride me... please, jiejie... need to see you..." he whimpers, eyes glassy and locked on your tits as they bounce wildly with every drop of your hips. He leans up, mouth latching onto one nipple with a desperate suck, tongue swirling clumsily but eagerly. His free hand gropes the other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple until you're arching into him.

"Fuck—your tits... so soft... hic... taste so good..." he mumbles around the swollen bud, teeth grazing it lightly before he switches sides, sucking harder, leaving wet trails of saliva across your chest. His hands are everywhere—sliding down to squeeze your ass, pulling you down harder onto his cock, then back up to knead your breasts like he can't decide where to touch first.

You grind down faster, feeling him hit that spot deep inside with every bounce. "Just like that... oh god, Caleb, you're so big... filling me up again..."

He thrusts up to meet you, whimpering into your skin. "Can't... can't hold it... jiejie, you're making me cum... again... ahh—!" His body tenses, another massive load erupting inside you, overflowing instantly, cum squelching out around his base as you keep riding through it. You feel it everywhere—deep in your core, spilling down your thighs, making everything slick and messy.

"Too much... but feels so good..." you moan, surprised at how his releases seem endless, each one thicker than the last, coating your walls until you're dripping with him.

He doesn't stop. Round after round blends together—him flipping you onto your back to pound into you missionary-style, hands groping your thighs as he babbles, "Love you... love this pussy... hic... mine... all mine..."; you on top again, his mouth back on your nipples, sucking like he's starving while his cum leaks out with every bounce; against the wall once more, your legs around his hips as he ruts wildly, whimpering apologies for cumming too fast but never slowing down.

By the time exhaustion finally claims you both—too many rounds to count, bodies spent and sticky—you're a tangled mess on the bed, his cock still half-hard inside you, cum pooled between your thighs. He's curled into you, face nuzzled against your chest, murmuring soft, drunken "I love you"s as sleep takes him.

And in the quiet aftermath, you realize this is only the beginning.

The morning light slices through the half-open curtains like a knife, stabbing straight into Caleb’s skull. He groans low in his throat, rolling onto his back, one arm flung over his eyes.

“Fuck… too much drink…” he mutters, voice gravel-rough. His whole body aches in a way that feels deeper than just a hangover—muscles sore, skin hypersensitive, a dull throb between his legs.

Fragments of memory flash behind his closed lids: your voice saying yes, the heat of your body, the way you felt around him. He drags a palm down his face, cheeks burning even through the headache.

“What a crazy dream… felt too real…”

His hand flops to the side, searching for his pillow—and lands on something warm, soft, impossibly plush. He freezes. Squeezes once. Then again, curious. So soft.

His eyes snap open.

This isn’t his room.

The sheets are your color. The scent in the air is your shampoo. And his hand—his hand is cupping your bare breast, fingers sunk into the heavy weight like it belongs there.

You’re asleep beside him, naked under the thin sheet, lips slightly parted, hair fanned across the pillow.

Caleb gasps so loudly it’s almost a yelp. He yanks his hand away and tries to bolt upright, but his legs tangle in the sheets and he crashes off the bed with a thunderous thud, bare ass hitting the hardwood.

The impact jars him from head to toe. He groans, rubbing his tailbone, then looks down in horror—completely naked, morning wood hanging heavy and half-hard between his thighs.

“Shit—shit—”

He scrambles for something to cover himself, but there’s nothing within reach. Panic floods him as your eyes flutter open.

You sit up fast, the sheet off your chest, worry etched across your face. “Caleb? Are you okay—”

He’s already trying to flee, palms cupped desperately over his cock, stumbling toward the door on shaky legs.

“Caleb!”

Your voice cracks like a whip—strict, big-sister sharp—and he freezes mid-step, back to you, whole body flushed crimson from the tips of his ears to his chest.

His heart is hammering so hard he’s sure you can hear it. The memories are flooding back now, vivid and undeniable: you under him, around him, the way he came inside you again and again, your moans, your hands in his hair.

He slept with you.

He lost his virginity to his jiejie.

“Get back here,” you say, softer but still firm.

He walks backward slowly, awkwardly, until the backs of his knees hit the bed. He slips under the sheet, yanking it up to his waist to hide the evidence of what’s already stirring again. He can’t look at you.

“Jiejie… your…” he stammers, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

You huff, cheeks pink, pulling the sheet higher over your own chest. “Yeah. I noticed.”

“I—I’m… I’m sorry, I—”

You shift closer, sliding an arm around his. He finally turns his head, wide-eyed and trembling, and you lean in until your foreheads almost touch.

“Jiejie… I—”

You press a finger to his lips, gentle but unyielding.

“Last night you were honest,” you say quietly. “Why are you running from the truth now? Trying to ignore me again? That’s not very nice, Caleb.”

He shivers, blush deepening impossibly. His fingers twist in the sheet. “I just… yeah, I… I love you, okay? And it’s wrong. Whatever we did was wrong. And you were dating that guy—”

“I said no to him yesterday.”

His eyes snap to yours, wide and stunned.

You keep going, voice steady even as your own cheeks warm. “Seeing you ignore me so hard made me think about a lot of things. Made me wonder if I was doing something wrong, upsetting you somehow. I don’t want you upset with me, Caleb. I turned him down because I realized… what I actually wanted has been right here with me all this time.”

You smile—soft, bright, a little shy—and Caleb’s eyes fill with tears instantly.

He sobs once, broken and relieved, and lunges forward to hug you tightly, arms locking around your waist, face buried in your neck.

“Jiejie… I love you so much… I love you so fucking much…”

You wrap your arms around him, fingers stroking through his messy hair. “I love you too, you big idiot. Next time you’re confused about your feelings, come to me. Not to random girls.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, face blotchy and guilty. “I… I thought if I slept with someone else I could forget you. But I couldn’t even get hard.” He groans, hiding his face against your shoulder. “I felt sick the second they touched me.”

Then he peeks up, pouting. “But… what about you? You had boyfriends…”

You sigh, tracing idle patterns on his palm. “Yeah. Unfortunately. And none of them were any good.” You rest your head on his shoulder. “Did you ever notice they all kind of… looked like you?”

He shivers hard against you.

You smile softly, voice dropping. “I was never really attached. The relationships fell apart fast because I wouldn’t get intimate. The only time I almost did… it stopped before anything happened because I moaned the wrong name.”

You hide your face against his neck, whispering, “I moaned your name, Caleb.”

His mouth falls open. He stares at you, stunned, tears spilling over again—but this time there’s joy in them, bright and disbelieving.

He laughs through the tears, shaky and wet, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. One hand slides to your hip, fingers sinking into the soft flesh; the other cups your face.

“Guess we’re both desperate, huh?” he whispers, voice thick.

You yelp softly as he tugs your leg over his lap. His cock—already fully hard again—presses hot and heavy against your stomach. He looks so happy, eyes shining, lips inches from yours.

“It can’t be helped then,” he says, voice low and steady for the first time this morning. “Knowing I’m not the only sinner here… we’re stuck together. And God help me, I never want anything else.”

He leans in until your lips brush.

“So love me loud, jiejie,” he breathes. “I’ll love you back even louder.”

You close the distance, kissing him slow and deliberate—no alcohol, no excuses, just the two of you finally choosing each other—the morning light feels a lot less harsh.

—

—

The next day at campus, Caleb is practically floating.

He walks through the halls with this stupid, unstoppable grin plastered on his face, shoulders relaxed, eyes bright—like the weight he’s carried for years finally lifted. People notice. Girls glance twice in the hallway, whispering. Guys nod at him with raised eyebrows. Even teachers pause mid-sentence when he answers a question with actual enthusiasm instead of his usual half-assed sarcasm.

He’s glowing. The happiest anyone has ever seen him.

In the locker room before P.E., his friends crowd around him like usual, slapping his back, joking about weekend plans. But the second Caleb peels off his shirt, the room goes dead quiet.

Then the gasps hit.

His neck is a map of hickeys—dark purple and red blooming across his throat, disappearing under his collarbone. His chest and abs are littered with scratches, faint bite marks, more kisses sucked into his skin like someone couldn’t get enough. And when he drops his jeans to change into gym shorts, someone whistles low.

There’s a perfect, unmistakable lipstick-shaped mark just inches from the base of his cock, right on the sharp V of his hip.

The silence breaks into chaos.

“Jesus, dude—”

“Who the hell did you murder last night?”

“Bro had a CRAZY weekend!”

Laughter erupts, elbows digging into his ribs, eyebrows waggling. One guy claps him on the back, grinning. “Wow, man. Looks like you had one hell of a night.”

Caleb doesn’t even try to hide it. He smirks wider, proud and unashamed, pulling on his gym shirt like he’s wearing medals.

“Best one ever,” he says simply, voice warm with something deeper than bragging.

Another friend leans in, smirking. “Yo, was the chick hot—”

Caleb’s smile vanishes in an instant. His eyes sharpen, voice dropping low and dangerously calm.

“Don’t say shit about her.”

The room stills again. Everyone exchanges glances—half amused, half wary. This isn’t the usual locker-room banter. This is something else.

One of his closer friends slings an arm around his shoulders, breaking the tension with a knowing grin. “Okay, okay… seems like she’s someone special, huh?”

Caleb’s expression softens immediately. The charming, radiant smile comes back—bigger, brighter, like he’s thinking about you and can’t help it.

He adjusts his shorts, grabs his water bottle, and heads for the door.

“My closest person,” he says over his shoulder, voice full of quiet pride. And walks out into the gym like the luckiest guy in the world. Because he finally is.

°˖✧~*♡*~✧˖°

Caleb was going to fucking kill Gideon.

“I want you to meet some friends of mine,” he’d said. “We’re just going out to eat,” he’d said.

And now here Caleb was, stuck on a double date that he had no wish to take part in.

When his eyes had landed on the two girls sitting at a candle-lit booth in the corner of the upscale restaurant, he’d realized immediately why Gideon had been so evasive about their plans earlier. Caleb would’ve never agreed to coming along if he had known this was anything more than a casual hang with friends, and Gideon knew it.

Gideon was quick to notice his friend’s stiffening spine, the downward tilt of Caleb’s dark brows pointing towards his worsening mood. Gideon threw his arm around Caleb’s shoulders in a gesture that might’ve looked friendly, but was really a forced attempt at keeping his friend from turning around and storming out of the restaurant.

“Just… play nice, okay?” Gideon hissed in Caleb’s ear as he guided him to the booth. “You know I’ve wanted to take this girl out for a while. She was about to say no after I finally worked up the nerve to ask—who knows why, you know I’m quite the catch—but her friend cut in before she could turn me down. Her friend said she’d seen you and me hanging out before and would love to make a double date out of it. My girl caved for her sake, so I have this one chance to get her to like me, alright? All you have to do is sit there and be cute for your girl while I win mine over.”

Caleb let out a sound somewhere between a grunt and a growl, his gut churning at the thought of this random girl being his. Gideon visibly paled at the sound—Caleb’s bad moods were nothing to play with—but he quickly replaced his shaken expression with a bright smile as they joined the two girls at the table.

Gideon slid into the booth first so he could sit across from his date, spouting some corny line that was a sad attempt at being charming.

Caleb, on the other hand, didn’t sit down right away. He still had half a mind to turn around and leave without a word. Caleb’s heart belonged to someone else, and to act as if there was any potential at all with this random girl from the Aerospace Academy was an affront to that loyalty—even though you two weren’t even together (Yet, he added. Not together yet.)

Gideon cocked an eyebrow, prompting Caleb to sit. “They don’t bite, man, take a seat.”

Caleb’s eyes flickered to the young woman who would be his ‘date’ for the night. The problem was that she was nice. Caleb knew her—he had seen her around school—and she was nothing but cordial with everyone. There was no reason to hate her, no reason to even dislike her. She was smart, polite, attentive to others’ needs. Anyone else surely would’ve been thrilled to take her out. 

And here she was, eyes glimmering with some amount of hope at the prospect of dining with Caleb.

Caleb, being the gentleman that he was, didn’t have the heart to ruin her evening by walking away like he wished to.

Suppressing the world’s heaviest sigh that had the force to bring all of Skyhaven crashing down to earth, Caleb sat down.

He could sit through one date. He’d be kind to her, make conversation, ensure things went nicely. Not for Gideon’s sake, no—Caleb wanted to kick his ass from here to the N109 Zone as soon as they were alone—but for the sake of not hurting this poor girl’s feelings after Gideon had so obviously led her astray.

And then Caleb would politely turn her down when it was appropriate to do so.

It was your face that flashed through his mind then, and a churning wave of guilt-laced nausea washed over him as he remembered the time that he had promised you that he would never get a girlfriend.

She doesn’t have to find out, Caleb thought, even those words making him flinch from how dirty and disloyal they felt. One date doesn’t make this girl my girlfriend. This date means nothing, Y/N won’t find out, and I’ll move on as if nothing happened.

If only things would happen that way.

°✧♡✧°

You were on your way to surprise Caleb, a smile already creeping across your face at the thought of his reaction.

Usually, Caleb was the one to visit you. And on the rare occasion that you came to Skyhaven to visit him, he insisted on knowing exactly when you arrived at the train station so he could pick you up; he was protective of you, over-protective even, and didn’t want you travelling alone any farther than necessary.

But you were an adult now—you were training to be a Hunter, for fuck’s sake—and you thought that he could use a reminder that you were able to make your own decisions now without his overbearing brotherly attitude interfering with every little thing. 

And what better way to do that than by surprising him with an unannounced visit?

He might be annoyed at first that you traveled all the way there without letting him pick you up, but it would (hopefully) be overshadowed by his joy at seeing you. Your heart skipped a beat thinking about what his somewhat-annoyed smile might look like. That damn smile. Even just the thought of it was enough to make your cheeks warm and your stomach flutter.

Unfortunately, all of that budding excitement quickly withered when it was one of Caleb’s dormmates who opened the door to his room and not Caleb himself.

“Oh… hey, is Caleb around?” you asked as you struggled to pick up the shattered pieces of the enthusiastic smile you’d worn just moments before.

“No, he, uh…” the doormate lifted one arm, scratching the back of his head. “He’s out with Gideon.”

“Oh. Well. Could you tell me where they went?”

“Yeah, I think they’re out at that new restaurant that just opened up. It’s not an emergency, is it? I can call him—”

“No, no, don’t worry about it, I have his number,” you said, dismissing him with a wave of your hand. “I’ll just head that way and meet him there. Thanks!”

“Um, well, maybe you should wait for him here, he’s actually—”

But you didn’t hear the rest of what he said. You were already placing your headphones back in your ears to search for directions to the restaurant.

°✧♡✧°

How long are dates supposed to last? We all finished our meals like twenty minutes ago. Can I leave now? Will it be seen as rude? Am I expected to stay for dessert, too?

Caleb’s thoughts were anywhere but on the conversation happening around him. Gideon had seemingly failed to charm the girl he was after—most of her laughter seemed to be aimed at him and not his jokes—but the girl who had expressed an interest in Caleb had clearly not lost it yet. Even when Caleb’s answers to her questions were clipped and cold, even when his own questions were cliché and half-hearted, she still managed to fill the gaps of the conversation with unusual grace. His attempts at being boring were failing, and it was driving him up the wall.

She really was a nice girl. It didn’t change anything for Caleb, though. His focus was still on you and the guilt flooding his lungs. His irritation only worsened with his ‘date’ ordering apple rose puffs for dessert, effectively extending their time together by another half hour, with a glaring reminder of where he’d rather be no less.

His eyes had been wandering towards the door every ten minutes since he got here. He was ready to leave. He wanted to call you—the sheer disinterest he was experiencing on this date was leaving him hungry for real conversation, for the real connection he felt with you. He’d already rehearsed the lines he would say at the end of this outing to let the girl down gently, to let her know that he had another friend that he thought would be perfect for her, and he was getting anxious to see it through already.

The front door of the restaurant opened, letting in an icy blast of wind. He breathed in that arctic air in an attempt to freeze that never-ending flood of guilt and soothe his anxieties.

When his gaze once again trailed over to the door, though, his guilt did not freeze.

It boiled.

He had to do a double-take. Because surely… surely, his anxiety-addled brain had just conjured images of you since you were all he could think about…

You looked dreamlike; you always did, at least to Caleb. You were an angel, face backlit by the golden rays of the setting sun, the clouds soaked in their light rimming your head like a halo as you stood in the restaurant’s doorway.

The pleasant image ended there, though. Your lips were pulling down into a frown… and then your bottom lip began to quiver. Your brows, the ones that Caleb loved to make tilt with an angle of laughter and mirth, were pulling in the opposite direction. They marked the stages of confusion, of understanding, of hurt as you took in exactly what Caleb was doing.

Of course, Gideon, oblivious as always, took that moment to say something astonishingly stupid. It sent both of the girls sitting across from them tittering into a fit of giggles—not at his joke, but rather at how clownish Gideon could be.

Caleb could only imagine how this scene looked from afar, though.

And that was clearly the breaking point.

At the sound of their laughter, you turned on your heels, fleeing the restaurant before Caleb had a chance to call your name.

Fuck.

Caleb stood up, tripping over his own feet to get out of the booth.

His not-date called his name in confusion, and Gideon yelled something about leaving him with the bill, but it all went unheard. Caleb’s blood was pumping too profoundly in his veins, the rush of it impeding all sound from hitting his eardrums.

After slamming open the front door of the restaurant, Caleb’s head turned in every direction like a predator on the prowl until he spotted your form hurrying down the street towards the main Coelum Express station.

How were you so fast?

You were already over a block away, the crowds of Skyhaven’s busiest district in the evening doing little to slow you down, even while the same crowds somehow managed to block Caleb’s every step as he chased you.

His attempts at yelling in your direction went unheard… or even worse, you were ignoring him. You had one arm lifted, and Caleb couldn’t tell if it was to elbow your way through the crowds or if you were wiping something off your cheeks.

Fuck.

Up ahead, the bustling station came into view, where one of the trains had just pulled in.

Caleb increased his own pace, not bothering to stop and apologize as he ploughed through groups of friends. Becoming a fighter pilot involved the most rigorous exercise, and he was putting it to good use now—well, he would’ve if there weren't so many damn people in his way. 

He needed to get to you, to get you to stop, to get you to listen to him. 

Your form disappeared between the doors of the train just as Caleb made it underneath the arches of the station. The bells began to chime, announcing its imminent departure, and he was so damn close—

But the doors to the train closed five feet in front of his face. 

He spotted you through the windows nearby as you moved to find a seat. He rushed after you along the platform, fists banging on the glass to get your attention, but it was clear that you really were ignoring him now. Your eyes—puffy and red—were averted, refusing to look outside as the train began to move.

Behind him, the station officials yelled at him to stop pounding on the glass, but he did not hear.

“Y/N!” he called, banging again and again until his fists were bruised, almost tripping over himself to keep up with the train. “Y/N!” 

You didn’t lift your head, didn’t even look in his direction.

Once the train reached the end of the platform to take off from Skyhaven and descend towards the earth below, Caleb fell to his knees, bruising those, too.

He didn’t blink as you pulled out of his reach, feeling like his heart was taken with you.

°✧♡✧°

Almost a week had passed since you’d fled Skyhaven unbalanced and disoriented.

It was one of your news girl friends who’d taken you in like a lost stray when you landed back in Linkon. You’d gone straight to her, not wanting to be in your own apartment that was too full of reminders of Caleb. She’d been your savior this week—making sure you ate and took care of yourself, distracting you as much as she possibly could, lending you clothes so you didn’t have to go home yet. Thank Astra school was on break right now, because focusing on studying would’ve been impossible. 

You hadn’t opened up fully about why you were so upset, just vaguely said “Caleb and I had a disagreement”, but that was enough for her. She knew how close you two were and was smart enough to read between the lines of your relationship. You didn’t doubt that she could sense what went unspoken.

On impulse, you’d blocked Caleb’s phone number and social media shortly after getting on the train. Not permanently, you just… needed time to process. It felt petty, especially since you would have to face him at some point, but you weren’t ready for that yet.

He’d tried getting a hold of you through other phone numbers. You could see glimpses of the texts as the notification popped up—demanding that you unblock him, urging you to tell him where you went and why you weren’t home… but you didn’t actually open the full texts, and you never replied. You blocked each new number that he contacted you from, one after another, hoping that he got the message that you wanted to be left alone for now.

Even your Grandma had checked in, surely at Caleb’s urging. You’d answered her call long enough to let her know you were safe, but that you and Caleb weren’t on speaking terms right now. You could hear him in the background, demanding that she give him the phone, but your Grandma had always been a strong-willed spirit. She’d respected your wishes and hung up the call without giving Caleb a chance to speak.

You needed time to process on your own, and he was being too… distracting.

Over the course of the past several days at your friend’s place, you ran every possible scenario through your head.

One of the first scenarios you considered was that maybe you had read the signs wrong all this time. Maybe your emotional reaction was all your fault, and you would eventually owe Caleb an apology for sending him chasing after you like this.

What if you had just been imagining all those flirtatious moments leading up to now? Those moments where your connection felt like it might be something more than friendship? Those times when you caught him looking at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice? Those times when his fingers would brush yours as you walked side-by-side, like he was itching to take your hand in his?

What if you’d assigned too much meaning to his routine of sending good morning and good night texts like clockwork, even on his most stressful exam days that should’ve had his mind on other things? What if the way his gaze lingered a little too long when you wore your pretty dresses was just an empty look? What if the times when Caleb placed himself in the line of sight of other boys who stared too long were just coincidences?

Did all those years growing up together just boil down to friendship, and nothing more? 

He’d had his wallpaper set to photos of you since you could remember. When you still lived together, he would sneak out with you whenever you had nightmares so you could go stargaze together, telling you silly little facts about the Deepspace Tunnel just to distract you. He bought you flowers for your birthday, for holidays, sometimes for no reason at all. When he got drunk with his friends, he always left the party early to call you and slur out how much he missed you.

Was that just friendship? Just adoptive siblings looking out for each other?

The image of Caleb seated across from that giggling girl at the romantic, candle-lit restaurant flashed through your mind for the hundredth time that night, perhaps for the thousandth time that week.

No matter what had been going on between you two all these years, that girl wasn’t just a friend.

Caleb had found someone else.

You were brushing your hair furiously in front of your friend’s vanity, the confusion of the situation beginning to transform into anger that you were taking out on yourself. You had to pause your styling for a moment just to calm down. You had to remind yourself that your hair wasn’t your feelings for Caleb; there was no use trying to yank it out.

You were going out to a house party tonight, and you wanted to look nice, not like a love-crazed girl in the middle of a meltdown.

Deep breaths, Y/N, you told yourself. Think happy thoughts.

But it was the dead of winter for happy thoughts, and nothing joyful could bloom in your mind. Every little attempt at distracting yourself circled back to the same never-ending loop of self-destructive thoughts.

Surely, you hadn’t imagined the signs, the flirting, the tension, the chemistry between you two.

No, there was just no way.

The closest you two had gotten to speaking about the subject of your feelings had been during a conversation just before Caleb left for Skyhaven. You weren’t used to being separated… and you’d been crying, nonstop. You’d confessed that you were worried he would no longer have time for you between school, friends, parties, and (worst of all) dates and girlfriends.

Caleb’s response had been to promise he wouldn’t get a girlfriend while he was off at the DAA. His sunset eyes hadn’t even blinked as he made that promise. You’d tried to look away, embarrassed by the admission, and Caleb had immediately lifted your chin with his hand to claim your eye contact once more.

It was that moment that made you certain there was something more than friendship between you two. Friends didn’t make vows like that for each other.

But apparently, Caleb’s vows meant nothing.

Maybe he was planning on playing you for a fool all along… maybe he’d made you feel like the most important girl in his life all this time just so he could keep you on the sidelines waiting for him like a loyal dog. A backup option. A last resort.

Maybe that was why he was always so insistent on knowing your every move. Not to be protective like you’d always thought, but so that he could carefully arrange things in a way that would keep you in the dark while he ran around doing Astra knows what.

That was what popular, attractive guys like him did anyway, right? You’d seen your friends’ hearts get broken before, and as certain as you had been that Caleb would never do the same to you, those same friends had felt the same about their own love interests.

You’d just been naive all this time, naive like every other young woman in love.

Boys could be terribly, terribly good liars, and even better heartbreakers.

But two could play at that game.

“Y/N, are you almost ready?” your friend called out from the other room.

“Yes, almost done!” you called back, feigning a chipper voice. “Just give me five more minutes.”

Your makeup was done, your hair styled, your outfit carefully curated… but you still had one last step to take care of.

It was time to unblock Caleb.

Not because you were ready to talk to him—but because you wanted him to see that you wouldn’t be left wallowing in heartbreak over him. You would document tonight’s adventures, and you would document them well.

Let him witness just how easily you could move on.

Even if it was all a show, you could still make it believable.

°✧♡✧°

The solo cup in your hand full of cheap vodka and soda was untouched, but you made sure it didn’t look that way in your posts.

The captions read “Girls night with the bestie!! :D” and your stumbling party girl poses said “I’ve had one too many and I shouldn’t have another,” but your mind was clear and sober. You weren’t really a big fan of drinking, at least not when you were sad—maybe for some people, it took their mind off of things, but it only made you sadder. So, the drink was a prop and nothing more. No need to turn into a blubbering mess when tonight was all about proving a point.

Moments after posting the photo, you felt your phone buzz. There was no doubt in your mind that it was Caleb, messaging you now that he’d seen he was unblocked and that you were online.

You switched your phone to silent mode.

The music was loud and not your favorite, but you made sure to dance anyway. It made your skin-tight dress ride up on your legs, and you were intentional about not pulling the hemline back down. Running your hands through your hair, swinging your hips, giggling and laughing the whole time, you made sure to put on quite the show… for more than one reason.

Not only did it make the posts you filmed look rowdy and debauched—the vibe you were going for, thinking it would pack the meanest punch if he cared at all—it was also starting to attract the attention of the other boys at the party.

And those boys would also make for great props, if only you could lure them a little closer.

You flashed the boy closest to you a sly smile mid-dance, the one whose gaze had been lingering a little longer than the others.

Caleb wasn’t here to block the boy’s line of sight this time.

You didn’t know his name, and he wasn’t really your type (you’d only ever had one, very specific type after all), but that didn’t matter.

He took his cue and walked right up to you, matching your sultry smile with one of his own.

The boy's hands started at your waist as he joined you on the dance floor. You could feel his hands were uncomfortably sweaty through your clothes, and his grip was all wrong—the feeling of his body on yours could only be described as nails on a chalkboard—but you didn’t show the discomfort that you felt.

No, instead, you grabbed your phone and turned the camera on under the guise of taking a selfie.

You made sure to document how he danced behind you, the camera following his hands as they drifted lower, lower, eventually grabbing your hips. Pressing in on the flesh of your thighs, pulling you closer so that your backside pressed all the way to his front. It made you want to crawl out of your skin, but at least it made for great footage. You swayed your hips more now, exaggerating every movement, singing along to the provocative music with pursed lips and your tongue sticking out tauntingly in between verses.

And then… post.

You held your phone up high to make sure you got a good signal.

You wouldn’t want to interrupt this personal show you were putting on for Caleb.

He was the first to view the story post, of course. 

Y/N, tell me where you are right now, or there will be hell to pay—

You quickly dismissed the notification, but it was too late to unread the beginning of what Caleb had said.

And as much as you wished it didn’t make you sick to your stomach… it did.

Hell to pay?

°✧♡✧°

Caleb didn’t exactly regret teaching you to take internet security seriously—that would be the wrong thing to say.

But in this particular instance, he was a little… irritated that his lessons had been so successful. With all the posts and stories you’d uploaded that night, not a single one of them included your location. And while that was usually the smart thing to do, right now, it was driving him up the fucking wall.

If only you’d taken his other lessons to heart, including not going out drinking with random college boys.

It was pretty fucking obvious what you were doing. You were just trying to bait him, to piss him off, to get back at him for what you had seen the other night. You were never the type to go party, not like this, and the timing of it all made it all too clear what your plan was.

Admittedly, your plan to piss him off was working. It was working far too well. Ignoring him was one thing, but having to see another boy’s hands on your body on your social media just about sent him into a blind rage. It made his heart fucking hurt.

He might’ve punched several holes through the walls already if he wasn't currently in your apartment waiting for you—he was all too willing to destroy his own property in frustration, but not yours. Never yours.

(Minus the lock on your front door, of course, because he had to break into your place somehow… but he swore he would replace it by the end of the week.)

But even though your plan to piss him off was working, he refused to believe that your actions were genuine.

He could see the grimace behind the smile. He could see the way you were practically pulling away from those boys in the videos, even as you danced with them. He could see that over the course of an hour, the amount of liquid in your cup remained the same, and there were no lipstick marks on the rim that matched the color on your mouth.

No, it was all a facade, and he wouldn’t fall for it.

He switched from your profile back over to your friend’s, intent on keeping an eye on you in every way he possibly could.

She had just shared a new post of you two—a group photo with those same boys that Caleb couldn’t wait to put in their place—but it wasn’t the contents of the photo itself that were important.

Ah… finally.

You might’ve taken his internet security lessons to heart, but your friend had not.

°✧♡✧°

Caleb hadn’t viewed the last few posts you’d made, and it had been fifteen minutes now.

Why the fuck were you letting all these dudes touch you, dance with you, whisper in your ear? Had you been subjecting yourself to their bad breath and unrestrained cologne use for nothing?

Maybe he was out on a date with that girl again.

You wanted to throw your phone through the window in defeat.

“What’s wrong, babe?” one of the dudes said in your ear, probably in what he thought was a seductive tone, but it couldn’t have been any less appealing. He had been getting a little too brave, a little too handsy, and you were about ready to pour your untouched drink on him.

“Nothing,” you responded, picking his hand off of your waist like a dirty rag so that you could step away. “I just need some air.”

“Me, too,” he said, following in your footsteps. “Let me come with you, I think we could use a bit of privacy, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes—hard—and turned to give him a smile that you hoped looked as poisonous as it felt.

“Don’t bother yourself, I need to make a call, actually,” you said, and continued on your way to the front door of the house.

The dude’s hands returned to your waist as you stepped outside onto the front porch.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be outside in the dark all alone, though,” he argued, voice dripping more with alcohol than seduction. “I’ll look after—”

“She doesn’t need a babysitter. She has me.”

The sharp, cold words were icier than the blast of night air.

You wobbled in your heels, regardless of the fact that you hadn’t actually sipped any of the booze that night.

Caleb tended to have that effect on you.

And he clearly had a domineering effect on the guy you had been dancing with, too—the random boy was quick to flee the scene and go back inside the minute he spotted Caleb, whose face spelled out murder. He looked like a boyfriend who’d caught his girlfriend in the act with someone else.

That thought prickled you incessantly—Caleb sure as fuck wasn’t your boyfriend, he’d made sure of that. He had no claim over you. What right did he have to chase off your own potential partners?

Coming to your senses, you tried to spin on your heels and head back inside, infuriated by the implication that he was your babysitter, but quickly found that you could not move. Your heels were weighed down with the mass of the sun itself, his evol as heavy as the stress you’d been carrying this week. You let out a growling, tantrum-laden sound, trying to slip out of the heels, but the evol only crawled further up your legs to keep you rooted in place.

Fucking Caleb.

He towered over you, angled eyebrows sharper than swords, the sunny shade in his evening-colored eyes long since set. They were dark, cutting, and furious.

“You and I need to have a chat, Y/N,” he said, and reached out to wrap his long fingers around your wrist in an unyielding hold.

“No, we don’t,” you spat back, trying to rip your hand from his grip (uselessly, of course). “I’m busy, Caleb. Don’t you have some other girl to entertain?”

Caleb flinched—actually flinched—which made your heart ache, but it didn’t matter. The ache was just a side effect of having been attached to him for too long, and you’d learn how to clean that ache out eventually, like an infection from a wound.

His jaw clenched, that muscle under his cheekbone flexing like he was chewing on something sharp. “That’s exactly why we have to talk. Come on, you’re coming home with me.”

“No, I’m not.” You didn’t move a muscle.

“I wasn’t asking,” Caleb said back, too slowly and too calmly. His words were accompanied by a tug on your wrist strong enough to pull you forward. You might’ve tripped in your heels if it wasn’t for his evol still keeping you afloat, an inescapable grip now encasing your entire lower half. Your feet moved of their own accord—of Caleb’s own accord—and you let out another frustrated sound of refusal.

“Caleb, let me go. I don’t want to hear about your perfect new girlfriend. I saw with my own two eyes, remember? Conversation done, I’m over it, we’re moving on. You don’t get to interrupt my night out to rub it in my face.”

He halted in his tracks, turning to face you with one raised eyebrow. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He simply shook his head and turned his back on you once more, resuming his steps as his evol pulled you along.

“I said let me go, you asshole!”

He didn’t turn to look at you again.

So, he was being stubborn tonight…

You let out an angry growl, wishing he were within punching distance. You muttered out a defeated, “Ugh, I fucking hate you.” You hoped it would hurt his feelings, but knew your outburst usually did little to phase him.

Down on the street, a car was waiting with its hazards blinking. Caleb used his evol to open the passenger door with barely a flick of his wrist.

You raised your own eyebrow at it. “Wow, a new car, new girlfriend, what else is new with you, Caleb?” you asked with all of the faux awe you could muster. “Have you been living an entirely new life without me knowing?”

“It’s a rental,” Caleb said simply. Part of you mourned the teasing lilt that Caleb was usually so fond of, as it was nowhere to be found, but the other part of you was glad to know he was in as poor spirits as you. “I had to get one when my errant sister decided to run around town without letting her family know where she was.”

It was your turn to flinch.

I’m just his errant sister.

And he’s just my babysitter.

The words were worse than a slap in the face. They were a cruel, laughable reminder that whatever you thought had been going on between you two was nothing more than an impossible dream.

He never saw you the way that you thought, the way that you hoped.

You were just an errant child with a crush that he was burdened with keeping track of.

Your shoulders slumped, and you swore you could feel tears prickling behind your eyes.

No, no, no! A squeaking voice stomped its little feet in your mind. This was NOT how tonight was supposed to go!

But what was the point in trying to make him jealous if he didn’t even care? 

When you made no effort to get inside the car, Caleb once again used his evol to pack you into the passenger seat himself. And this time, you didn’t fight back; you simply went limp, allowing your body to be manipulated however he pleased.

He shut the door a little too hard—flinch—and made his way around to the driver’s seat, where he shut the door even harder—another flinch. When you were both locked inside the car, he looked over at you, eyes running down your body to take in your outfit.

Your dress was still riding up high on your thighs, so high that you could peek at the color of your underwear from the right angle.

His lips curled in disgust, and you’d never wanted to crawl into the shadows to hide more than you did in that moment.

“It’s the middle of winter,” he said slowly, his eyes ripping away like he would rather look at anything else, “and that’s what you decide to wear? Not even a coat?”

The condescending tone and previous implications that you were just an ill-behaved child were starting to boil within you, sadness and hurt heating into a rage. “Don’t worry about me, Caleb. I had plenty of guys keeping me warm tonight,” you retorted.

Caleb’s fingers flexed around the steering wheel, knuckles whitening.

He didn’t say another word the rest of the car ride home.

You weren’t too far from your apartment, so thankfully, it wasn’t a terribly long ride, but the uneasy silence between you two made everything stretch on for far too long. Even the clicking sound of the turn signal in the car thundered in your ears like running footsteps down a tunnel—a tunnel you wished you could escape down. You swore that Caleb could hear the flexing of your throat muscles as you held back your sobs of angry frustration.

When the car finally pulled in front of your apartment building, you were quick to push open the car door and step out onto the street. 

“Well, Caleb,” you began, trying to muster back that biting tone. “Thanks for the ride, even though I didn’t fucking want one. Next time, you can go ahead and save both of our time by not bothering. I am not a child anymore. Good night!” 

But to your horror, he did not stay in the car. He turned the engine off and followed after you, locking the rental behind him without a backwards glance as he maintained eye contact with you. “You must’ve mistaken my silence for the conversation being over, pipsqueak. We’re not done talking yet. I just had to gather my thoughts.”

The childhood nickname normally left you giddy, but it only left you insulted right then. It was just another reminder of your place in his life, the place of his bratty adoptive sister. 

Your hands balled into fists. “Who said you were allowed in my apartment?”

“I’ve been in your apartment all week.”

Your jaw flopped open, and it was your turn to be left speechless. Had you… given him a spare key and forgotten about it? Had you left the door unlocked?

Caleb had the fucking audacity to smile then—a wide one. But it was all teeth and no warmth. It was a mocking smile, the one of a predator.

It made the rhythm of your heart falter in your chest.

Not wanting to reveal how badly that smile affected you, you spun on your heels and stomped your way into the apartment’s lobby, not bothering to hold the door open for him. Not that it mattered—his control of gravity allowed him to hold the door open with ease anyway, moving ever so gracefully even as you threw your tantrum.

Caleb coolly followed after you, making you feel silly for storming in so fast since you both ended up waiting for the same elevator anyway.

The silence was growing louder, screaming in your ears, but you were already so humiliated at being escorted home that you prayed Caleb would save whatever lecture he was going to give for the privacy of your home. Well… not so private anymore, considering Caleb had somehow weaseled his way in, even while keeping you out of the truth of his own life.

It was all just so fucking unfair.

You stood as far away from him in the elevator as you could. Your distance didn’t go unnoticed. Caleb looked over at you, his eyebrows pulled tightly together, before stepping towards you.

One step.

Two steps.

With his long legs, that was all it took to tower over you, inches from your face.

“You don’t run from me, Y/N,” he uttered, voice whisper-soft but somehow still laced with threat. “Never again.”

You could barely even breathe with him looking at you like that. He was a blackhole, sucking up all the oxygen in the elevator. There was nothing that wasn’t him.

When the doors finally opened, you bolted out, fishing through your purse for your keys as you desperately tried to catch your breath.

As you approached your apartment door, you realized something was off. It was slightly ajar, and the handle… why was it hanging that way—

All it took was a gentle push to open the door. No key necessary, not even a twist of the handle. Aghast, you stepped inside, looking back at the broken lock in shock. “Caleb, did you break into my fucking apartment?!”

Now that you were alone, though, in a place where no one else could bother you, Caleb let all pretense of his calm fall away. 

Within fractions of a second, he had the broken door slammed shut behind him with his evol, pushing your side table up against the frame to keep it from swinging open again. In the same moment, he had you caged up against the wall of your entryway—but that he didn’t use his evol for. He used both of his own hands, skin-to-skin, wrapped around your wrists, pinning them up on either side of your head.

That smile was back—that predatory smile that offered no comfort.

“I sure did, pips, and I would do a whole helluva lot worse if it meant keeping you safe,” he spoke in a low voice close enough to your face that you could feel it vibrate over your skin like thunder, goosebumps trailing in its wake. “I said it in the elevator, but let me say it again since you didn’t acknowledge it the first time. You don’t run from me. Not ever. You don’t run, you don’t hide, and you certainly don’t ignore me. Understand?”

You stood in a cowering silence, unable to respond, feeling a torrent of adrenaline cascading down every blood vessel in your body. You were so distracted by his proximity that it took a long moment to process what he said. No, his words would have to wait… first, you had to process the shackling grip of his hands on your wrists, the wave of passionate anger pulsing off of him like the heat of a summer day, the muscled thigh pressed between your own legs to keep you from moving… 

When his words finally registered, it was your initial instinct to nod; to say yes, you understood. It was the same instinct that had been instilled since childhood, the instinct that believed he was the only person who would truly protect you on this earth. You’d always listened to Caleb, at least when it came to important things, and this right here? You could tell this was important. 

But now, you fought that instinct off. This time, you wouldn’t listen.

You raised your chin up, looking down your nose at him even as he towered above you. “I’ll do whatever I want. I don’t belong to you, Caleb. You already gave that privilege to someone else.”

Caleb’s fingers only gripped tighter, defying your words, as if he could claim you with his hands alone. He shook his head slowly from side to side, features hardened. “I can’t tell if I’m heartbroken or insulted that you could think that, Y/N. Probably a mix of both.” His gaze, full of exasperation and frustration, trailed down to your lips, pausing there momentarily before continuing its perusal down the rest of your body. You weren’t sure if his gaze felt feather-light or blade-sharp; either way, you shivered in fear. “You stubborn, silly girl. Maybe I haven’t done my job well enough.”

“I don’t know what you think your job has been up until now, but consider yourself relieved of your duties as of now.” You wanted the words to come out biting and bitter, but they only sounded heavy, downtrodden. “I’m sure your new girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate me taking up so much of your time.”

Caleb’s fingers fell from your wrist and leaned back to give you space, but a new force kept your hands still in place against the wall—his evol, unfaltering as ever. His lips twitched into something like a snarl before flattening again. “You’d cast me off so quickly, then? All it takes is one misunderstanding, and you’d be done with me?”

“What is there to misunderstand?” Something about having his skin directly on yours had stopped you from fighting back earlier, but now that his fingers had unlaced themselves from your wrist, you were back to fighting against his evol—uselessly, of course. No matter how much you pulled, your hands would not budge. “I saw everything perfectly clearly. Maybe I’ve just been…” Fuck. The tears couldn’t be held back any longer, not now. They came hot and fast, flooding your eyes and blurring your vision. “Maybe I’ve just been an idiot for thinking there was something more between us all this time. Maybe I misread some signs. Maybe that was my mistake. But that doesn’t give you the right to come storming in and steal me away from the guys I might actually have a chance with someday! To act like you have any claim over me when you already threw me away!”

Caleb was quiet for so long that you feared he’d forgotten how to speak, or maybe your words were so laden with choked sobs that he couldn’t understand you. He was tracking the tears running down your cheeks, observing as they fell down to caress your neck, watching as they pooled against your collarbones and disappeared into the cleavage of your dress. 

“Your only mistake,” Caleb eventually murmured, tone husky and edged in velvet, “was thinking that you didn’t already belong to someone.”

The air was too heavy to breathe. It felt like Caleb was using his evol on your lungs now, and they couldn’t inflate on their own—he wasn’t, of course, but that didn’t stop your heartache from leaving you dysfunctional.

“That isn’t fucking fair, Caleb,” you managed to squeeze out, shaking your head at him. You tried to turn away, but he only grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him again, the same way he always had, the same way he always would. “You can’t just go collecting hearts like you have room for more than one. I only want to belong to one person.”

“Did you not read a single text I sent you over this past week?” Caleb asked, disbelief leaking at the edges.

You stilled in your struggles, biting your lower lip. No, you hadn’t… you’d seen glimpses, read a few words, but you’d deleted each and every one before you could read the whole thing.

And with the way Caleb was looking at you now, you didn’t want to admit it.

He lifted one hand to roughly comb through his hair before rubbing at his jaw. It must have been aching from how hard he was clenching his teeth. When he finally made eye contact again, he looked on the verge of falling apart.

“If you hadn’t run away from me to begin with, I could’ve explained this to you the same night it happened,” he said, voice trembling. “That girl is not my girlfriend. Never has been, never will be, never wanted her to be. I was only there that night because Gideon lied to her and lied to me, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened in shock. A flutter of something like hope took off in your heart, and though part of you desperately wanted to squash it before it could take flight, you kept quiet to listen to the rest of what Caleb had to say.

“And I wanted to leave, trust me, I wanted to, I just… didn’t want to be an asshole. You might hate her, but she’s actually a nice girl. She didn’t deserve to be stood up just because Gideon was being a douchebag. I was only going to have the one dinner, and then let down gently.” Caleb paused, swallowing hard. “But if I had known the reaction you would have to this, I would have left in a fucking heartbeat, Y/N. Her feelings mean nothing to me compared to yours.”

Something like guilt began to bleed out from the shards of your earlier rage. “Caleb—”

He lifted one finger, shushing you. “I’m not done. Do me a favor for the first time this week and just listen.”

It was not a request, and you did not argue with him. That instinct to do as he said had taken over once more. 

“That girl means nothing to me. Nothing. I shouldn’t have been there, fuck, I shouldn’t have been there, and I am so deeply sorry for that. I fucked up. I am even more sorry for how you found out. I can’t imagine how hurt you have been this week…” You could hear the sincerity of his words, could sense the truth in them. “...but while I was trying to figure out how to apologize to you, let’s talk about what you were doing.”

It was those final words that started to pick up a new tone.

Something colder. 

Something scary.

He leaned forward again, placing his arms on the wall on either side of your head, the thick ridge of his biceps blocking your vision from looking at anything but him. His knee pressed harder between your legs until it was causing your dress to ride up again—until his thigh was pressing up against your core, grinding against your most sensitive spot.

You let out a quiet gasp, but he was not deterred.

“Blocking my number? Blocking all my accounts? Running away to your friend’s house?” His eyes were flickering back and forth between your own, like they could find the answer they were looking for there. “Why would you do that, Y/N? And then…”

One hand lowered to move a lock of your hair behind your ear, tracing the edge of your jaw. 

The touch was gentle and loving, a stark contrast to the cold, brutal slash of his next words.

“And then doing all that on your social media accounts… letting those guys dance with you. Letting them touch you. Letting the rest of the world see them touch you, letting them think you ever belonged to anyone but me. Before you could even give me a chance to talk to you.” His lips curled up in a snarl again. “Hand me your phone.”

“Caleb, I’m sorry—” Whatever fight you’d had in you was fading now, alchemising into regret.

“I said hand me your phone.”

So you complied. His evol dissipated, allowing your hands to reach for your phone from the purse slung across your shoulder. You didn’t hesitate before handing it over.

He knew the password to unlock your phone already—it was his birthday, after all.

It was then that you noticed your friend had been calling you nonstop for the past ten minutes. You were too wrapped up in Caleb’s presence to notice them. Caleb himself was unfazed by the missed call notifications and declined the next call as soon as it came in. 

He even dared to block your friend’s number. You were only able to squeak out one little sound of opposition before he lifted his free hand to shush you again.

“Not a word, pips. You don’t get to talk to her until after I have a nice, long chat with her about hiding my little sister from me.”

There was that damn word again… but it didn’t make you flinch this time. With the way he had his thigh pressed between yours, grinding up against you in such an inappropriate way, you knew he didn’t really mean it. Big brothers didn’t do this to their little sisters.

He was just trying to bully you, to get a rise out of you, payback for what you had put him through this week.

And maybe you deserved it.

You watched as he methodically deleted the photos from your story. Just seeing the glimpses of the videos made your gut churn with disgust and shame.

It churned even more when you saw how hard Caleb gripped your phone, his knuckles sharply sticking out from beneath his skin as he deleted each video.

“Caleb…” his name fell from your mouth like a plea, voice cracking. “Caleb, I’m sorry, I didn’t like doing it, it felt…”

“Wrong?” he cut in, eyes lifting to you with a sharp jut of his chin. “Disloyal?” He scoffed. “I know. Your act wasn’t very convincing, pipsqueak.”

The way he said the nickname so condescendingly made your nerves prickle. There was something off about the glint in his eyes, like he was moments away from snapping.

He swallowed hard, and when he finally finished clearing out your social media accounts of the evidence of your misguided attempts at getting back at him, he leaned in close to you once more. “I know exactly how dirty you felt, pips. You wanna know why?” His voice had fallen back to that husky pitch again, silk laced with razors. “Because I felt the exact same way just sitting across from that girl. I’ve never felt so damn wrong in my life. And I didn’t even touch her.”

Caleb’s hand lifted up, and you expected him to return that punishing grip to somewhere on your body; pinning your wrists, grabbing your chin, anything, but his fingers did not touch you. Instead, you caught a glimpse of something in his hand—your phone. 

His lips were millimeters away from yours. “You’re going to have to do something for me, pips. You’re going to have to make up for your behavior tonight.” Every word caused his lips to brush against your own, and the heat of his summery-sweet breath had your blood racing. “Can you do that for me?”

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

The next thing you knew, his lips were crushing into yours, hard and hot and fierce in their claiming.

He gave you no room to deny him or move away. His control over gravity changed direction; no longer was it pinning your hands to the wall, but instead pulling them to him, pressing your fingers against his chest, bringing your core down harder against his leg. One of his hands caressed your jaw again, tracing the path of your earlier tears, down, down, his fingers sliding the strap of your dress out of the way so he could press against the curve of your breast.

You couldn’t tell which feeling was more overwhelming: his lips on yours, the firm curve of his pectorals beneath your fingertips, his thigh between your legs, the little sounds he made into your mouth when his lips parted to kiss you deeper, the trail his fingers were making until he pinched your nipple hard, eliciting a gasp from you… It was all too much.

Too good.

Just as you began to kiss him back—to explore the plane of his chest willingly, to grind your hips down onto his thigh—something flashed bright enough to reach you behind your eyelids. It startled you into pulling away.

You opened your eyes in time to catch Caleb’s lips pulled up in a smirk, still wet with your spit. His eyes weren’t trained on you, though.

They were on your phone.

On the picture he had just taken of you. Of him.

“Caleb, what are you—”

He pulled the phone out of reach before you could grab it; you watched as he hit ‘post’ on the debauched image, making it public for all of your followers to see.

“Setting the record straight about who you really belong to,” Caleb said, eyebrow raised. “Don’t tell me I’m not good enough for your account. Are you embarrassed by me or something, pips?”

“No, Caleb, of course not…” you muttered, blushing. You weren’t embarrassed by him—just plain embarrassed. 

But clearly, that was his goal. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, seemingly deep in thought as he cocked his head to the side. “Do you not want me, then?”

“No!” you exclaimed, bringing a mocking smile to his lips. “I mean, yes, Caleb, I do want you.”

He got close again, brushing his lips tauntingly against yours once more. “I don’t believe you.”

Your lips parted, partially in a gasp, and partially because they wanted to taste Caleb again. “Huh?”

“I said I don’t believe you, pips. You’re going to have to prove how much you want me.” 

That was when his evol dissipated completely, and he stepped back quickly from where you were pinned against the wall. The sudden loss of support caused you to stumble forward, making his lips pull up in another smirk. Fucking Caleb. You only barely managed to stop yourself from stumbling to your knees.

“Caleb, I don’t know what I’m—”

“Oh, come on, pips. You had so many creative ideas on how to get me jealous earlier when you were posting those little videos. Don’t tell me you can’t come up with a single thing to show how much you want me?” he chuckled, and when you still stood frozen, mouth agape and cheeks blazing, he scoffed.

With a disapproving shake of his head, he turned towards your bedroom and beckoned you with his finger.

“Hurry up, Y/N. If you’re going to be lazy and make your big brother help you with another assignment, the least you can do is follow me when I say so.”

The blush in your cheeks burned hotter and brighter… but you did as he said and scurried after him. He kept his eyes trained on you, gaze slowly moving downward to take in your dishevelled state as he closed the bedroom door behind you. His violet eyes seemed to burn like candles in the low light; the faintest hint of city glow slipping through the curtains was all it took to set his amethyst irises aflame.

He jutted his chin towards the edge of your bed. “Get on all fours, face towards the headboard.”

And again, you found yourself freezing in place. This was all happening so fast. Just earlier today, you were sure you would have to get over him, to forget your feelings for him, and now…

“Did you hear me, pipsqueak? Or do I need to use my evol and help you do that, too?”

Chastised by his words, you quickly crawled onto the bed, immediately all too aware of how fucking short this dress was. Your ass was almost entirely exposed. It didn’t help that you wore the world’s tiniest thong, either. You could feel the cool night air against your center… your very wet center. The wetness was spilling out of the sides of the thong and smearing on your inner thighs, coaxed out by Caleb’s thigh moments earlier.

The groan that Caleb let out then made it very clear how aware he was of the state of your core. You bit down on your lip, fighting the urge to hide underneath the covers. Caleb’s earlier words echoed in your head, though—you don’t run from me.

So you stayed there, on your trembling hands and knees, ass and cunt presented right in the middle of your bed just for him.

“Aw, my pretty little meimei. Are you already wet for me? Maybe you really do want me, after all. I’ve hardly even touched you.” But then he made another humming sound. “But… I’m still not convinced yet. You were bragging earlier about how those other boys were keeping you warm. This isn’t for them, is it?”

“No!” The word came out urgent and pleading. Fuck, your earlier words were coming back to bite you in the ass. “No, gege, I swear.”

“You swear what?”

“I swear it’s just for you.”

You hear the sound of a zipper being undone.

“What’s just for me, baby? Use your words, complete sentences. I need details.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling on the verge of tears. This was so fucking humiliating.

But it only made your core weep harder.

“My pussy, gege. My pussy is just for you. It’s soaking wet for you, it wants you, I want you.” Your voice was shaking, beseeching. When he didn’t say anything, didn’t respond, didn’t come closer, you knew he still wasn’t satisfied. You groaned loudly and wiggled your ass, a beggar pleading for alms. “Caleb, please. I’m sorry. They didn’t mean anything. I didn’t want their hands on me. It was gross. It made me sick. They aren’t you; they could never be you. I’ve only ever wanted you. I’ve only ever gotten wet for you. Will you please forgive me?”

Finally, you heard his footsteps as he came closer. You shivered as he placed the tip of one finger at the top of your spine, dragging it down slowly until goosebumps raced over every inch of your body. The dress you were wearing was backless, so he was able to keep going lower, lower, lower, tracing your spine until it stopped just about the fabric that hardly covered your ass.

“That’s better. I’m almost convinced,” he said mostly sweetly, but still with a hint of something sour, something mocking. “If you really want to convince me all the way, though…”

“What, gege? I’ll do anything.”

That finger on your spine went lower, tracing the valley of your ass before dipping beneath the thong and pulling it to the side. “You’re going to take this cock like a good girl and show me how much you like it.”

And just like his earlier kiss, he didn’t give you time to deny him before sliding the fat head of his dick between your soaking wet lower lips.

You cried out. Loudly. Fuck, you’d played with yourself before, but it wasn’t like this. Nothing had ever been like this. Even with how wet you were, the stretch burned fiercely, and the sheer shock of the feeling had you scrambling forward across the bed to escape the intense feeling.

Well, you tried to, at least.

Caleb’s evol was back at work, distorting your vision as it pinned you in place. There would be no running from him. You were stretched on the hot, fat head of his cock—just an inch or so, but it was enough for your breathing to come out stuttered and your heart to pound at the back of your breasts.

Caleb leaned down over you, aiming his mouth near your ear as he tauntingly hummed at you. “I thought you said you’d do anything, baby? Do you take it back?”

“No, Caleb, I want it,” you panted out. “I want it. I want all of you. Just… mmmm. Give me a minute. Please? It’s so much.”

“I’ve barely given you anything, though, Y/N. You’ve got a long way to go if you really want all of me,” he chuckled darkly, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “But I’ll go slow with you. Anything for my sweet meimei.”

And ever so gently, he began to rock into you, just fractions of an inch at a time.

It was such a tight fucking fit. The push and pull of his cockhead was all-consuming; the thought of it barely being a fraction of his full length almost sent you into a panic. Every millimeter of movement he gave you had you moaning out, burying your face into the sheets, horrified by the sounds you were making. They were sounds you didn’t even know you were capable of making.

Caleb didn’t like your attempts at muffling your voice, though. He threaded his fingers through your hair and gently pulled back, guiding you to look over your shoulder at him.

“No running,” he reminded you. “I told you I want you to show me how much you like it. That means I need to hear you, too.”

And so you listened to his order, moaning even louder at the sight of him dipping between your ass cheeks out of the corner of your eye. It was so vulgar… better than anything you’d ever dreamed of. You wanted to memorize the way the city’s neon lights cast purple-toned shadows beneath every vein and curve of his dick, how your slick shimmered in the same hues across his flesh.

He took his time fucking you with just his tip, but you could feel him shaking now, his grunts coming out almost pained… it was clear that he needed more.

When Caleb shifted ever so slightly from where he stood behind you, his cockhead hit a certain spot in you that had you gasping and clenching around him—and it involuntarily caused him to push another inch into you, stretching you out even more.

“Ah—” he whimpered, using both of his hands to clutch your hips in an attempt to stop himself from sinking any further. “Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me… I’m not going to be able to stop myself from going deeper if you do that again.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you whined, the stretching burn starting to feel less aching and more electrifying. You wiggled your ass on the blade of his cock. “It was your fault, gege, you feel too good…”

The movement made him whimper again, and he squeezed the flesh of your ass. “Oh yeah, baby? You like gege’s cock? Do you think you can take more now?” He gave a few half-thrusts into you, testing your limits. He listened closely to the little sounds he was drawing from you, trying to sense if there was any reason he needed to stop.

Every sound was one of pleasure; he didn’t stop.

“I’ll take whatever you give me, Caleb.”

His movements faltered. Again, he leaned close, the warmth of his breath tickling the nape of your neck.

“Are you sure about that?”

You mewled, pushing back to take another half inch of his cock in response. The more of his swollen flesh that pushed into you, the less you were able to communicate in words. You could only hope the wetness pooling out of you, down his shaft, trickling down his balls, and soaking your silk sheets was enough to speak on your behalf. 

“Then gege’s gonna fuck you now,” he murmured, running a hand lovingly down your back.

You bucked back onto him one more inch, a taunt and an invitation that elicited another choked, broken moan. He even laughed a little, a breathy chuckle that felt like sunshine on your skin.

But what happened next was beyond giggles and taunts.

He thrust all his remaining inches into you, making you scream out, your face falling back into the bedsheets below you. This time, he let you muffle the sound—it was so loud it probably would’ve woken the neighbors without it. He kept himself seated inside you, letting you adjust to the massive length. You could feel the hard ridges of his abs pressed against your ass cheeks.

You weren’t the only one making sounds; your pussy was pulsing around him, throbbing, welcoming him in, making Caleb whine out puppy-like sounds in his attempt to maintain composure.

And just when you thought you were in control, he made you lose it once more by beginning to move.

He didn’t go slow this time. He pulled back his cock in a sharp movement before bucking it all the way back in. Over and over, punishing thrusts, the kind that had your entire body tensing just to keep from being fucked directly into the mattress. It was sloppy, fierce, and intense; more intense than you ever thought Caleb would be with you. In your fantasies, he’d been gentle, warm… but this was devouring, absolute.

You didn’t dislike it.

Language was completely out the door. For you, at least—Caleb only seemed to get more chatty now that he had fully unleashed himself.

“Look at you, taking me so good,” he cooed breathily. “I should’ve never doubted how bad you wanted me. You’re gushing, baby. Look at the fucking mess you’re making.” Another needy little whimper slipped from his lips. “All this mess just for me. Hah, you dirty fucking girl, I should’ve known. I should’ve known you would be like this. Gege’s little fuck toy. You were made for me. You hear me, Y/N? Made for me. Don’t you ever fucking forget it again.”

Your moans were punctuated by the jutting of his hips, like his cock was clogging up your throat every time he bottomed out inside of you. It sure fucking felt like he was going that deep in you—you didn’t even know you could fit so much inside.

And then it stopped all at once with no warning; he pulled his cock out, leaving you bereft and calling out wordlessly at the sudden emptiness.

“Flip over, baby. I want to see you.”

But the momentary loss of dick wasn’t enough to clear your mind from your fucked-out haze. You were too slow to comprehend his orders, and Caleb was clearly not a patient man when it came to these things. He’d waited so long for this already that he refused to suffer a second longer; he took matters into his own hands, using his evol to flip you over, plopping you onto your back so that you were face to face.

“Wanna see you,” he panted, his lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling in the dim light as he stood over your body at the end of the bed. “Wanna see how you look with gege’s cock fucking you.”

Caleb clawed at your dress, bunching and tearing at it to get the damn thing off your body. Your instinct was to cover yourself, to cover your tits, unused to being so laid out and exposed, but he grunted in refusal.

“Give me your tits, baby. They’re already mine.” He adjusted the gravity to pin your arms down again so that you were laid bare before him, ripping the thong fully off of your body now, too. “You’re not hiding from me this time. Not hiding ever again.”

He took off his own shirt, using it to wipe off some of the sweat accumulating at his hairline and temples before tossing it into a corner of the room, forgotten. He slipped his pants fully off, too. It was the first time you’d gotten a full, unimpeded view of his bobbing cock, thick and proud and slick with your juice; fuck, it was so big and mouthwatering.

Caleb was observing you just as intently, his gaze travelling down to your core. “Look at your clit, baby, all swollen and puffy for me. So pretty.” He reached down, swiping two fingers across it before gathering some of the mess spilling between your thighs. The teasing touch elicited a mewl from you, making him smirk. He brought the slick liquid up to his lips, taking a long, languorous lick, his eyes squeezing shut with pleasure. The sound he made was that of a man starved. “So sweet. Fuck.” When his eyes opened again, something devious sparked there—even more devious than he’d been earlier. “I think you need to taste how sweet you are, too, baby.”

He crawled onto the bed, over your body, stopping when each of his knees was positioned on either side of your upper arms. Looking up at him from this angle felt like standing beneath the statue of a god, every chiselled angle of his body carved from marble. You gaped at his dick hanging heavy above you, some of your wetness from earlier sliding down the tip and threatening to fall on your face.

“Say ahhhh, meimei. Open up for your big brother.”

Has Caleb always been like this? You thought maybe you should’ve been ashamed at how much it was turning you on, his taunting words and teasing nicknames, taboo and filthy and wrong. But it still felt so right. Your core clenched around nothing, missing him already.

You did as he said, parting your lips and saying ahhhh in a cutesy little voice that had Caleb huffing out a laugh. He leaned down, resting on his forearms above you while his throbbing length lowered to your face. It slipped between your lips and slid down across your tongue.

The taste of your slick mixed with the hot drops of his precum, flooding your mouth and making you salivate. He could barely fit the top of half—no, top third of his cock in your mouth before he was hitting the back of your throat, and it took up so much space that your spit started spilling out the sides of your mouth in rivulets of drool. You moaned at the intrusion, causing his hips to buck in pleasure from the vibration of your throat around his flesh. It made you gag just a little from how deep it went before you found your composure again.

“You taste yourself, baby? You taste how sweet your mess is?” he asked, thrusting across your tongue as he fucked your head into the mattress. “Fuck, you look so good choking on me. Your lips are so much prettier wrapped around my cock than when they’re telling me to let you go, telling me how much you hate me…”

His reminder of your earlier tantrum made you whimper, a sound a little like pleading for mercy. He chuckled at that, pleased by your fear.

“You didn’t mean it, right, baby? Tell me you didn’t mean it,” he cooed, pushing his dick further down your throat in a dominating claim of the space.

You mewled out a denial in response, the sound muffled by his length. It throbbed again from the vibration; you could see Caleb’s thighs start to shake on either side of your body.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me cum, your cute little mouth is too tight, sweetheart…” he pulled back then, drool still connecting the tip to your lips as he backed away from you. “Don’t wanna come in your throat this time, though. I’ll save that for the next time you’re being a brat and I need to shut you up.” He chuckled as he returned to standing at the edge of the bed, his thighs still quivering. “You’ve taken my cock well enough to earn my cum in your pussy, I think. Does that sound good, baby?”

Your eyes widened—it did sound good, the thought of his hot, sticky cum filling you up, but you weren’t on birth control, and he wasn’t using a condom. The fear of what could happen must have flashed through your eyes because Caleb’s head tilted to the side.

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re scared of me breeding you, meimei.” His voice was mocking as he scooped his arms underneath the bend of your legs and pulled you to the edge of the bed. Your lower half was suspended in the air just by his strength. “You said you’d do anything for me, right, sweetheart? Won’t you take your gege’s cum, then? Let me knock you up. You’d look so pretty swollen with my baby.”

He let out a huff of laughter at the look on your face, the way your mouth fell open in shock at his words. He gave a thoughtful hum.

“Hmmm, I guess it can wait, sweetheart… I don’t exactly relish the thought of splitting your attention with anyone else for the foreseeable future, anyway. Still going to cum in you, though. That part is non-negotiable. I’ll get you Plan B, baby, don’t worry.”

And with another claiming he thrust, he reinserted his cock into your wet, throbbing hole. 

The stretch still burned a little, but this time it was less painful, more pleasurable. You moaned long and low, your mouth parting open wider from the feeling of fullness. Using his arms to control the angle of your hips, he continued the earlier pace of his punishing fucking. His eyes were glued to the place where your body connected with us, unblinking. The crude sound of his wet balls slapping against your ass gave an audible rhythm to your joining, and you knew the sound would resonate with you for weeks to come.

Caleb’s evol took over the job of holding up the weight of one of your legs. He used his free hand to lean down and run his thumb over your lower lip. He dipped the digit into your mouth to run it across your tongue, too. “So pretty. So pretty for me.” He smiled before grabbing your cheeks, squeezing enough to make your lips purse. “Love seeing your makeup so messy. Love fucking your makeup off of you. Your mascara’s all over your face, baby. Is gege’s cock so good that you’re crying?”

You nodded, another few tears spilling over at the corners of your eyes as he stretched you out and ruined you for anyone else. He leaned close to your face, licking them up like dessert.

“Tell me, meimei. Tell me how good.”

“Gege… gege, your cock is soooo good,” you mewled back, going crosseyed from how deep he was, how fast and hard he was driving into you. “So hard. Pl-please… gege, it hurts so good, I need it, I need it. Mmmm!”

The brutal pace did not slow down at your cries of how good it hurt. If anything, he picked the pace up further. He was mesmerized by the way your tits bounced in answer to his bucking hips; it seemed to spur him on, to make him fuck you harder and harder just to see how your body reacted.

When he found that spot inside of you again, the one that made you tense up and your whines go high and thready, his eyes seemed to light up.

“Right there, Y/N? Is that where you need it?”

You nodded more vigorously. Oh, that feeling…

You’d come before. Fuck, you had come before, so many times at your own hand while thinking about Caleb, but now…

The feeling building low in your core now was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. It felt like you were going to shatter.

And Caleb wasn’t a patient man. He was keen on breaking you.

Once he knew where you needed him, he did not relent. He pounded into that special spot, using the head of his cock to build your climax so quickly that you didn’t have time to even catch your breath or prepare for the incoming storm. It was like a chemical reaction, your body coming to a fierce boil beneath him, about to spill over.

“Come for me, sweetheart, I know you want to, come on, I wanna feel you on me, can’t you do that f’me? Please, baby, I’ve needed you so bad, you’ve put me through hell this week, I just need to feel my meimei come on me… do it for me? Come for your big brother?”

The next thing you knew, your vision was whiting out.

Your senses crossed over and got mixed up with each other; you were tasting his moans, hearing the throbbing of his cock, feeling the taste of him on every inch of your body. Your cunt clenched so damn hard on him that he didn’t stand a chance at lasting any longer, either. He collapsed on top of you, giving you a sloppy open-mouthed kiss so that he could breathe your used air as he came. 

For someone who had been so dominant, so controlling and absolute, the moans he let out then were absolutely pathetic, and the vibration of those sounds resonated directly into the membrane of your lungs.

The pulsing waves of summer heat and euphoria coursed through your pussy and echoed in a tide through every inch of your body, the flood of his hot cum filling you up from the inside out, making the orgasm go on and on and on, wet and sloppy and slice and sticky…

He pulled back just enough to utter more words into your mouth.

“Baby, you—hng—you’re milking me, ah, fuck—my perfect little girl…”

You swallowed each word hungrily in between messy kisses. The feeling of your hot tongues sliding against each other was just as silky as his pulsating cock massaging his cum into your inner walls, and it had you bowing off the bed, your body unable to withstand even an inch of separation.

When the intensity of the orgasm began to fade, Caleb didn’t pull his cock out, didn’t stop kissing you, didn’t disentangle his hands from your body, didn’t let go of his evol. No, he wanted you right there, right where you belonged; subdued and limp, still impaled on his half-hard cock, whimpering from the aftershocks of his still-twitching cock inside of you.

The only movement he made was to adjust you enough so that you could both lie on the bed, with you pulled tightly on top of him in the crook of his arm, both of your legs tangled together.

The rushing waves of exhilaration were quickly fading into a gentle ebb and flow of exhaustion, a feeling you welcomed greatly after the longest, most sleepless nights you’d ever had in your life this week.

“Caleb, gege, will you stay here w’me?” you mumbled into his chest, nuzzling into his sweat-soaked skin.

“I wouldn’t leave even if you begged me to, pipsqueak.”

You let out a sleepy giggle, and Caleb began to stroke your hair as you started to drift off.

On the edge of consciousness, you heard him add softly, “It wasn’t a joke, baby. I’ll always be here.”

°˖✧~*♡*~✧˖°

It was an amusing browse that lasted for an hour, and you thought that's all it would be—an hour of entertainment you wouldn't think about ever again.

But now you're staring into the violet eyes of the most handsome man android you've ever seen, with eyes somehow reflecting so much life and charm, drawing you in the longer you stare. He looks less like the typical androids you normally see and that has you intrigued.

Meet Caleb (model no. X-02), EVER’s latest android companion, tailor made to be your perfect partner! He's the boy next door, an attentive lover, and the adrenaline junkie that will take you on the ride of your life.

You scan through his bio that lists characteristics, even habits, that seem to bring him to life. He loves building model airplanes, hates cilantro, dreams of becoming a pilot, etc.

It reads less like a sales pitch and more like a dating profile. And somehow, he's checking off all your boxes. He really does seem tailor made for you. It's almost creepy.

This Caleb companion is not fit for additional installations or modifications.

So, you can't pay for extra stamina and a twelve inch dick? What a shame. You could really use that right now.

It doesn't help that there’s a shirtless photo of Caleb in bed with his thumb hooking around the band of his sweat pants, gazing up at the camera with a seductive smirk.

The ache between your legs returns annoyingly and you groan, scrolling away before you find your hands down your pants for another useless session.

Price mark down! 80% off! Get him today for the low, low price of $4,999.99!

You whistle, “that's pretty cheap.”

Considering the average, high quality android these days costs $30k and up, you're looking at a bargain—or at least, that's what your tipsy and horny addled mind tells you. But there's no way an android from EVER, a top selling android competitor, is selling a new model this low. There has to be a catch.

You try reading the finer details, but the tiny words just blend together. Somehow the only details you manage to catch are ‘passionate lover', ‘extra stamina pack included’, and ‘six vibrating arm modes’. You're extra intrigued by that last detail.

The add to cart button is clicked without a second thought. Purchasing is a simple, familiar process. Inputting your name, card information, address is muscle memory at this point.

You only realize what you just did when the EVER logo pops up on your screen with a purchase confirmation number.

Buyers remorse kicks in as you stare at the screen. This is probably one of the most embarrassing purchases you've ever made, solely driven by the fact that you're unbearably sexually frustrated and horny for some super hot, discount android.

Before you can figure out how to cancel your order, you notice an audio message attached to the thank you message.

“Thanks for choosin’ me. I can't wait to meet you.” A voice, presumably Caleb’s, says. Even his voice is hot. There's a sweet charm to it, playful and alluring all at once. “Fill out the questionnaire below to help me learn how I can please you.”

The questions range from basic tasks you'd like help with to how frequent you want him to initiate sex. You answer with complete honesty, thanks to the alcohol.

“For the love of God,” you mutter, sitting up on your bed. “Couldn’t he at least, move his bed away from the shared wall? Or schedule the symphonies for…” you glance at the red-glowing digits on your nightstand. 1:00am. “…hours that aren’t to sleep.”

Your pillow is already half off the bed as you bury your face in it to muffle the sounds. Sex couldn’t be thatgood, you think, as another thump reverberates like a strange, patient earthquake.

You clamp the pillow over your ears harder—but it’s no use. You can still hear a rhythm, distant but steady, and beneath it, the tiny, infuriating detail: Caleb’s laughter, bright and boyish, cutting through. 

That sound snaps whatever polite restraint you’d been patching together into sharp little pieces.

You fling the pillow aside. Tights twisting, heart pounding, you march out of your room and aim straight to his. 

You don’t hesitate, you raise your fist and knock so hard the cheap wood answers back with a hollow thud. “Do you know what time it is, for fuck’s sake?!” you bark, voice raw and flat with fury. 

No answers come.

The only thing that tells you you’ve been heard is the groan of the mattress like an old ship settling. And for a ridiculous, furious second you consider that this could be your victory. 

You already picture yourself trudging back to your bed, collapsing, sleep swooping—

The door swings open before you can celebrate. 

Caleb stands there in the doorway, half-naked and annoyingly unbothered, a pillow strategically pressed to hide whatever decency remains. 

“What the—” escapes you, but it dies in your chest when your eyes sweep his room: clothes in a chaotic spill, a lamp askew, and a girl sprawled over his bed. Your eyes almost pop out of their sockets when you notice several used condoms on the floor.

Heat stabs your face—not from embarrassment but from acute, stupid fury. And maybe… arousal.

Caleb tilts his head, amused. He doesn’t look remotely embarrassed too—even though, he should be. He smirks, that infuriating, cocky half-smile that says he knows exactly what he’s doing and doesn’t care.

“Wanna join?” he says, the words sliding out with casual malice

You feel your jaw tighten until it hurts. “Are you kidding me?” you snap. “It’s one in the morning, you inconsiderate—” your voice drops venomous. You step forward until you’re a breath from him. “Do you even own a clock? Decency??”

He laughs, leaning into the doorway to be a smug silhouette and hiding the girl’s quivering thighs. “Relax, you’re dramatic tonight. Go back to bed and stop being so uptight.”

Uptight.

Up.tight.

The word skitters off him like oil and echoes in your head. Your hands ball into fists at your sides. “Uptight, huh?” you spit. “You think I’m dramatic? You’re the one playing percussion with our shared wall like it’s the rehearsal for a porno.”

He blinks, still smiling. “We’re adults,” he says, as if it settles everything. “We do adult things.”

“Adults don’t keep other adults awake,” your eyes narrow at the sweat dripping down the side of his neck. “They respect shared spaces, Caleb. They respect roommates.”

“Noted,” he shrugs, dragging the word out, deliciously insincere. “But, maybe, next time you can join the fun instead of policing it.”

Your blood rushes. For a dizzy second you imagine saying the worst thing you can think of… and for another dizzy second you find yourself wondering if sex could really be that good, again. But this time with Caleb’s broad frame over you and—

You shake your head, biting your nails into your palm, trying as much as you can to tether yourself to earth. “You moved your bed against the wall on purpose,” you tell him, meeting his bright purple gaze. “Move it back. Or I’ll file a noise complaint and won’t be nice about it.”

He shrugs again, the pillow still pressed under his lower body. “I’ll think about it,” he takes a step back, and before turning away he tosses: “Thanks for the midnight visit. You always bring such energy, pipsqueak.”

Then, as if punctuation were unnecessary, he flashes you his round ass and doesn’t even bother to close the door.

“Talk of delirious conversation.” You talk through your teeth, returning to your room fluming harder than when you left. 

──────ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Next morning you’re gone before the sun even bothers to rise fully, slipping out of the apartment with your bag slung over your shoulder. No breakfast, no coffee, no ‘good morning.’ You don’t even give yourself the chance to hear if he’s snoring or not. You’re absolutely not in the mood to look at his deranged face after last night. 

And Caleb? Oh, Caleb is disappointed. His eyes flutter open to an empty living room and the sound of your bedroom door firmly shut. No playful banter, no glaring, not even a muttered insult for him to feed off.

“That’s cold he mumbles into his pillow, rolling over with a groan. But then his expression shifts… “Well, at least this gives me plenty of time for my favorite hobby.”

He stretches like a cat, drags himself out of bed stark naked, and announces to absolutely no one, “PANTIES TOUUUUUUR!!” His voice booms through the apartment with an enthusiasm that belongs more to a game show host than a man living with another human being.

He marches to the laundry basket. Going to your cleaned clothes wasn’t an option—he wanted something freshly worn by you. He digs through it with the reverence of an archaeologist on the brink of discovery, lifting each piece of clothing one by one. A sock? Tossed aside. A hoodie? Boring. 

His grin widens, boyish and filthy as he plucks up a delicate scrap of fabric.

“Ohhhhh, my sweet little roommate,” he croons, holding your laced little panties up in the air. He presses them to his face, inhaling, eyes rolling back. “Ah, smells like pure divinity,” he sighs.

He parades around the apartment with his prize, his bare feet slapping lazily against the floor. The pillows he’d used last night, and the crumpled sheets are already tumbling in the machine, sacrificed to the illusion of cleanliness, but this little trophy? This, he’s not letting go of.

He hums tunelessly as he twirls the fabric on his finger, the way someone else might spin car keys. When he flops onto the ouch, he does it with a dramatic groan, one arm thrown over his forehead, the panties clutched to his chest. 

“Why’d you leave so early, huh?” he says out loud, talking to the ceiling. “You know I need my morning fix. A glare, a curse, a shove into the fridge door… anything!” he shifts suddenly upright, shaking the panties in accusation. “Don’t you get it, pipsqueak? I need you.” 

His voice dips, carrying the filth that feeds his disturbed mind. “Even if it’s just to scream at me while I do this—”

muffling the sound directly against your panties. He presses his mouth hard to the fabric, kissing them. His lips drag along the lace, open-mouthed and hungry, leaving damp heat behind. He bites the edge gently, then sucks it between his teeth as it was your tongue.

 His tongue was slow at first, but it quickly became rougher—obscene and sweet in his own way of savoring. He licks up the seam, hips twitching faintly as if his body can’t help responding.

His mouth isn’t moving with careful curiosity. 

It’s confident.

The confidence of a man who’s done it before. Many times. Every motion has that practiced filthiness—the greedy inhale against the pantie, the way he turns it in his hands so he can mouth at the gusset more deeply, dragging his lips over it again and again. 

His breath turns ragged the longer he goes. His free hand slips down without hesitation, wrapping around his cock and dragging it out hard and heavy, flushed to a painful red. The obscene sound of his pre-cum lubing him up fills the quiet apartment as he fists himself with desperate speed, sloppy—just raw need. 

“Fuuuck—” he gasps against them. “That’s it… that’s so fucking good…” His tongue pushes through the lace again, lapping at the damp seam like he could taste you on it if he worked hard enough. He drools onto the fabric without shame, saliva soaking in and smearing across his face, making it stick wetly against his skin. He laughs — cracked and manic — his hips bucking into his own fist, precum spilling over his knuckles and dripping down his shaft.

He shuts his eyes tight, grinding the panties harder into his face, biting the fabric like he wants to eat it whole. His voice is broken as it pours out between clenched teeth: “Fuck—fuck, give it to me… give me that smell… oh god, I fucking need it.”

He strokes faster—the wet slap of his cock in his hand, the snuffling sorts against the lace, the breathless whines breaking out of his throat is a filthy mixture echoing around the apartment.

It’s disgusting.

The kind of feral, degrading ritual of a man who’s done this way too many times, who’s ruined too many pairs of your underwear in exactly this way.

When he finally spills, it’s violent. No less. Hot cum is spilling over his red hand, his naked stomach, his pants. He jerks and bucks until it streaks across the couch cushion beneath him too, the mess soaking into the fabric. His moan rips out of him raw and guttural, teeth sinking into the gusset, smearing it with spit.

And when he collapses back, chest heaving, he’s grinning—completely satisfied. He drags the panties down from his face, strings of spit clinging, then presses one last sloppy kiss right to the soaked crotch. 

And as if it couldn’t get any filthier, Caleb puts the pantie on his own mess, cleaning himself the best he could before bringing back the fabric to his tongue. 

He moans, savoring the sour-salty taste of his own mess mingled with the faint ghost of your scent.

“Perfect,” he pants. “So perfect, you have no idea…”

He lays there in the wreckage, cum cooling on his skin, panties balled in his fist. 

──────ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

It’s late when you finally make it home. The hallway is quiet, the kind that makes you hope Caleb’s already asleep. You unlock the door slowly, bracing yourself, praying you won’t see him sprawled on the couch, smirking.

Or worse.

The second you step inside, you heart it. The worse.

A laugh, his laugh, floating from his bedroom. And then another sound follows: the high-pitched giggle of a girl. Thin walls don’t lie.

You stop in the entryway, keys clutched too tight in your hand. Already your stomach is knots. Of course he has someone in there. Just like every single night in the last two weeks. And of course, he’s doing this at the exact same time you come home. 

You’re starting to think he’s doing this on purpose. 

And right on cue, as if summoned, his voice carries through the drywall. It’s loud and exaggerated, dripping with smugness. “Ohh, fuck, yeah. Just like that. Open your mouth wider. . . Yeahhh, gooood.”

A wet, gagging sound follows, timed so well it makes you flinch. You move stiffly past his door, jaw clenched, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But the second you drop your bag beside your bed with a heavy thud, you freeze.

“Careful, princess,” Caleb calls, voice playful now. “My roommate’s home. She’s probably listening right now.”

Your whole body jolts with heat—fury, embarrassment, something sharper. You bite your lip hard until you taste copper.

The sounds keep going. Sloppy sucking, choked moans, his voice praising filthily between chuckles. And the damn headboard thudding at what seems an animalistic rhythm.

“That’s it, baby… take it… take it all.” He groans so loud it rattles in your teeth. “Mmm, fuck, my roommate’s probably red as a tomato right now. Cute little thing.”

You slap your hands over your ears, pulse hammering, face burning. You can’t tell what’s worse—that he’s doing it to taunt you, or that some ugly, humiliating part of you is reacting at all.

Your thighs rub together in frantic little shifts, desperate friction against nothing. Your chest rises and falls too fast, nails biting into your sheets. You hate it—hate that your body is betraying you while his voice keeps bleeding through the wall, gravelly and hot, every word landing right between your legs. 

“Just like that,” he growls out loud. And you swear it’s for you to hear. Not even for the girl he seems to fuck senseless. “You’re such a good slut.”

Your stomach drops. Your throat burns. But something in you snaps.

Your hand slips between your thighs before you can stop it. Shaky fingers drag over your underwear, already embarrassingly damp. The shame is instant, but the relief of pressure makes you whimper before you can choke it back. You circle your clit in tiny, frantic movements, shallow and light, terrified of making noise. 

Your breath stutters against your pillow, sharp little gasps swallowed into cotton. 

It’s just stress. Just so I can sleep, you lie to yourself.

You bite down on the sheet the second your fingers slip under the fabric and graze your clit directly. Your whole body seizes. He can’t know. He can’t.

You clamp your thighs tighter, slick and messy as your fingers move faster, louder, the obscene sound wetting the air. Shame curls molten in your belly, burning through you, and still, you can’t stop.

And unfortunately, it’s not enough. You’re too wound up, too far gone—too fucked out on his voice. You reach under the bed blindly, tugging out the vibrator you swore you’d never need because of him.

But here you are.

The hum fills the room, loud to your ears, and you panic—you shove a pillow over it and grind the toy against your sensitive part anyway. The pleasure hits hard, back arching at the electric shock. It rips through you so fast you moan before you can stop yourself. 

Mortification shreds through you. You clap a hand over your mouth, tears pricking your eyes, but your hips are rolling against the vibrator like they have a mind of their own. Your fingers slide inside you, messy and needy, fucking yourself in time with the rhythm of skin slapping on the other side of the wall. 

His rhythm. 

His game.

The thought makes you burn. 

You’re writhing above the sheets, a soaked, pathetic mess, shame and want tangled until you can’t tell one from the other. Every wet squelch of your fingers, every buzzing grind of the toy is louder than your heartbeat.

“That’s it,” Caleb’s voice cut through everything. It’s husky and curling right into your ear, halting your frantic movements. “Be louder for me, pipsqueak.”

Your heart slam in against your ribcage. Mortification chokes you, but it only fuels the need clawing under your skin. You grind down against the toy, your slick fingers working yourself open, sobs catching in your chest as shame pools hot in your gut. Tears sting your eyes, blurring your vision, soaking your pillow. 

You’re so lost in everything; your mind doesn’t wonder why he’s calling after you instead of the girl he’s supposedly fucking. 

Because right now, it feels like he’s inside your room. Inside your head. Inside you.

The headboard on his side slams again, so hard your wall rattles, perfectly in rhythm with the frantic buzzing between your legs. His voice comes again, ragged this time, like he’s getting off just from hearing you break. “Mmm, I can hear it, you know. The way you’re dripping all over your sheets. Filthy little roommate can’t even help herself.”

A strangled cry tears from your throat—you shove your face into the pillow, body arching, thighs shaking around the vibrator. The pressure building inside you is unbearable, so sharp it borders on pain. 

Your fingers curl deep, your wrist aching, the toy grinding ruthless against your clit, and you realize in some distant, horrified corner of your mind that not only you’re timing yourself with the endless slam of his bed but also his voice.

Every word he spits through the wall makes you go faster, harder. 

“God, you sound so pretty when you fall apart,” he groans, and this time it feels real. Not a performance nor a show. It feels it’s just for you and only you. “Cum for me. Right now.”

Heat detonates inside you, violent and overwhelming, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that makes your vision go white. You convulse against your bed, sticky and soaked, your thighs squeezing the toy so tight it squeals against your skin. Slick gushes down your hand, coating your fingers, the sound of it obscene in the room. 

It doesn’t stop.

Wave after wave, it keeps crashing into you.

And through it all, you recall little pants following with a single broken growl.

And just as you think you can breathe again, his voice drifts through, soft and poisonous, curling into the rawest part of you: “Sweet dreams, pipsqueak.”

──────ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The shower runs longer than it should. Scalding water, steam filling the bathroom, your hands scrubbing your skin raw as if you can erase what happened last night. As if shame washes off as easily as sweat. 

When you step out, your body is red from the heat, hair dripping, towel wrapped tight around you. You breathe deep, trying to calm the hammering in your chest. 

You open the door—

“Well, well,” Caleb leans against the hallway wall, one shoulder propped, mug dangling in his hand, purple eyes cutting to you the instant you appear. His gaze sweeps down slow taking on your dripping hair, bare shoulders, towel clutched too tight against your damp skin, the thin strip of thigh peeking when you shift. “Morning really is good, huh?”

Your throat tightens. You grip the towel harder. “Move.”

His head tilts slightly, gaze lingering far too long where the terrycloth curves over your chest. “You always come out looking like this?” his voice drips, curling filth and amusement together. 

Heat flares up your neck, traitorous and hot. You force your eyes anywhere but him—at the mug, the floor, anywhere. “Caleb,” you bite out, “I’m not doing this right now.”

“Mmm.” He steps closer. The air crackles, your pulse jumping, his grin widening. “Funny, ‘cause last night you were doing a lot.”

Your stomach plummets. The words hit like a punch, shame flooding hot in your chest. You want to scream, shove him. But instead, you choose to play his games. If you were going to feel shame, being humiliated… you wouldn’t be the only one.

You lift your chin, meeting his stare head-on. “And what about you?” your voice comes sharp. “Jacking yourself off like some creep in your room? Using some poor audio to make me think a girl was with you? Pfff, pathetic.”

Caleb freezes for the briefest flicker of a second, smile twitching at the edges—before he darts out his tongue, licking his bottom lip. 

The tension spikes. His gaze doesn’t move from yours, but you feel it everywhere, crawling over your towel, tugging heat low in your stomach against your will.

Your fingers tighten around the fabric. You take a step forward at the same he does—your chests almost colliding, the air suddenly electric you find it hard to breathe. “You’re disgusting, Caleb. And if you think I’d ever let you touch me—” you let your eyes flick down to his mug, then back up, a sharp smirk of your own breaking through. “I’d rather pour that coffee over my crotch.”

For a moment, you expect another sly grin, another jab… but not seeing his arrogance draining from his voice and speaking with a voice that doesn’t sound like him anymore.

“You’re not really thinking that.” he says with such a petite voice… fragile. 

It throws you off balance. Your smirk falters. “…What?”

He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. His purple eyes dart down your towel, then snap back up to your face with a desperation so naked it almost looks like panic. “Don’t say that…” he whispers. “Don’t—don’t say you’d never let me touch you.”

The heat in your stomach twists into something else. The sudden crack in him makes your grip on the towel tremble.

“You’re not serious,” you try, forcing sharpness into your tone, but it comes out thinner than you want.

But he shakes his head so hard his fluffy hair shifts, and the mug in his hand clatters against the wall when he sets it down too fast. He steps in closer, eyes wide and glassy.

“The fuck is happening,” you murmur to yourself, taking a step back.

“You think I’m teasing but… I need you.” the last words are almost screamed at your face. “I swear, you don’t get it, do you? I can’t—fuck—I can’t stand it when you look at me like you hate me, because I know—” his hand lifts halfway, then stop, trembling in the air as if touching you would be blasphemy. “—I know I’d ruin everything just to feel you once.”

 Your throat dries. Your knees nearly lock. The sheer naked want pouring out of him knocks you back harder than any of his smirks ever could.

And then, before you can form a response, Caleb does something you never thought you’d see: he drops.

Straight down. His knees hit the hardwood with a dull thud, his head bowed for one second before snapping back up, eyes locked on you from below. The hallway light carves shadows into his face, but nothing can hide the wreck of him. His hands fist at his thighs, shaking with the effort of not grabbing your towel, not clutching your skin.

“Don’t tell me never,” he begs, voice breaking in a way you’ve never heard from him. “Say anything else, call me every name you want to, scream at me, hit me—fuck, pour the coffee if you have to. But don’t say I’ll never get to touch you.” his breath is ragged, almost delirious, his words tumbling too fast. He shakes his head, tears pricking up at the corner of his eyes. “Please, I’m just—I’m already half insane just imagining it.”

The towel feels unbearably heavy on your body now, every inch of exposed skin prickling under his stare. 

Your fingers clutch tighter at the terrycloth, knuckles pale. Your mind screams to step back, to slam the bathroom door and lock him out forever. But your body? Your body leans forward.

And maybe he feels it—because his hands twitch, fists pressed to his thighs as if holding himself down. His breath is sharp, uneven, every inhale rattling like he’s starved of air.

“Caleb,” you whisper, half a warning, half a question.

He looks up at you with eyes that no longer gleam smug purple—they burn, wild and frantic. His jaw clenches, unclenches. He looks like he wants to crawl inside your skin just to be closer.

“You don’t… you don’t understand,” he rasps. “Every time you walk past me in that tiny shirt, every time you glare, every time you slam your door—I’m losing my mind. I jerk off just hearing you breathe in your room. I fuck my fist like I’m drowning, imagining what you’d sound like if I had you under me. I don’t even care if you hate me. I just want—” His voice cracks, his head dips against your stomach, forehead brushing the towel. “—I just want to touch you.”

“That’s lame.” you say down at him, but your voice isn’t steady.

He shudders and you catch the twitch under his short. It makes you all more confused. He is fucking turned on by you degrading him.

His hands lift, shaking, hovering close to your hips but no daring to land. His lips part, teeth grazing his bottom lip. “Call me whatever you want, truly.”

Your hand finds its way on his soft hair. You let your nails graze his scalp, tugging his head backward. “And what if I like watching you crawl?”

His laugh is wrecked, breathless. “Then I’ll crawl until my knees bleed if that’s what it takes.” He drags a ragged breath, eyes devouring you. “Don’t shut me out.”

The words hang heavy. You feel dizzy. Alive. Cornered.

Every single emotions fight in you, your thighs press together under the towel, and his gaze darts down instantly, catching the subtle motion.

His breath quickens. His hands finally land—barely, fingertips brushing against the towel’s edge like he’s asking permission without saying the words. He doesn’t pull. He just waits.

And it’s unbearable. The silence, his kneeling frame, your own pulse thrashing. You hear yourself speak before you mean to: “You’re disgusting.”

“Then let me be disgusting,” he begs instantly, no shame, voice cracking at the edges.

Your mouth dries. And that’s when his lips curl again, trembling this time with much less confidence than usual. 

“Didn’t you enjoy last night?” his words drip into you, hitting the deepest part of you. “Just from me talking? From imagining me fucking you? Did you even imagine me fucking you?” His breath hitches, his voice breaking with need. “Tell me truth.”

Your jaw locks, your chest heaves—but the truth burns its way out of you anyway.

“…Yes.”

The word lands like a gunshot. His pupils blow wide, his chole body jolting as he’s been electrocuted. And then he’s closer, kneeling forward until his forehead pressed into your thighs.

“Then let me show you…” his hands clutch at the towel now, knuckles white. “Please, pipsqueak. Let me show you how much better it could be if you let me. I swear I’ll make you forget everything but me… fuck… just give me one chance.”

Your lungs tighten. You can feel the heat rolling off him, his mouth so close to your thigh that steam still clinging to your skin feels cold in comparison.

He leans in until his mouth is a breath from your thigh, inhaling the clean scent of your damp skin like it’s intoxicating him. “You don’t even know what you do to me,” he whispers, his forehead pressing lightly against your leg. “I’m on my knees for you, pipsqueak. I’ve been holding this back for months—” His thumb strokes an inch higher, over the edge of the towel, slow enough for you to feel the tremor in his hand.

“Are you… clean?”

He nods hard. “Yeah... I mean yes. I take tests every couple of weeks. I swear, I even have the papers with me. I—” he starts to lift himself from the ground but your other hand clamp tight around his shoulder the other still buried on his hair.

“That’s okay. I believe you.” your breath stumbles. Your thighs spread just wide enough before you say: “Go ahead.”

He surges forward. His lips crash against your inner thigh in a fevered kiss, hot and wet, the sound of it obscene in the quiet hallway.

His big hands slip higher, finally peeling at the knot of your towel, tugging it loose to let it slide down your body. It crumples uselessly to the floor, and Caleb groans like he’s been handed salvation.

“Fuck,” he hisses against your skin, kissing higher, higher, his teeth scraping lightly. “Been dreaming about this—” another kiss, wetter this time, “—about tasting you—” his tongue drags along the sensitive skin, “—losing my mind between your thighs.”

Your knees nearly buckle, but his grip steadies you, pinning your hips to the wall. He noses shamelessly against your heat. He inhales you, taking on your raw scent and it’s damn better than your panties.

“Gonna ruin me, pipsqueak,” he rasps, lips brushing right where you throb most. “And I’m gonna love every second of it.”

His nose nudges your pubic bones as he kisses your clit delicately. Just his hot lips grazing your sensitive part in such a loving way your heart stumbles even more. He opens his mouth slowly, wrapping around your soft lips, creating a sloppy succession until you whimper above him. His hands slide further back, palms rough against the backs of your thighs, dragging you closer to his mouth until you’re trapped between him and the wall.

He moans into you, vibrating against your flesh. His tongue flicks out, trembling as if he’s holding himself back, but the tremor only makes the stroke more uneven and hungrier. He drags it up one side of your folds, down the other, then circles your clit, open-mouthed.

“Fuck, yes…” he mumbles into your skin, the words a hot breath you feel more than hear. “This is what I wanted. This is all I thought about. You… you taste better than I dreamed—”

He breaks off, groaning low, hands sliding up to cup your ass, kneading roughly. He pulls you impossibly closer, flattening his tongue, lapping long and slow, then sealing his mouth around your twitching nub. Your vision blurs in instant, your fingers gripping harder his hair.

He pulls back, chin already shining with your essence, the pretty shade of violet almost drowned under the hungry black of his pupils. “Should we—should we take this further? Up to your room?” his grip is bruising on your thighs.

“Yes, Caleb.” Your breath comes ragged, syncing with his. 

In one motion, Caleb rises on his feet, strong arms scooping you up. Your legs hook around his waist on instinct, your cheek finding its place against his shoulder as he carries you down the short hallway. His heartbeat drums against your chest, quick and uneven. 

He lowers you slowly onto the sheets, bracing himself on either side of your head, his necklace swinging loose, threatening to tangle in his shirt. His voice comes rough but quiet, trembling at the edges. “Might I kiss you? Please?” His breath is hot against your flushed skin, eyes flicking between your lips and your gaze. 

And you’re so tired of him always asking—of hesitation, of the restraint. You grab the back of his neck and crash your lips against his. The sound he makes is something lower, rawer, unnamable—a noise that shakes straight through you both.

Your tongue slides along his bottom lip, tasting yourself on him, salt and heat all over taste buds. His hands slide up your sides, fingertips tracing fire wherever they go.

He nudges your legs apart, slotting himself between your thighs, the press of him thick through his clothes. His left hand slides up, cupping your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheekbones as his tongue parts your lips and claims the kiss fully.

“Caleb,” you break the kiss, panting onto his mouth, a string of spit linking you both. “Don’t be soft. I don’t want that.”

He snaps his eyes to you, searching your face. “…What—”

“Be yourself, want you whole.” You whisper, grinding shamelessly on his bulge.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His hands trace a slow path along your skin, leaving behind sparks that make it hard to breathe. His breath skims your collarbone; his words are a ghost against your pulse. “But as the lady wishes.”

He gets on his knees between you, getting rid of all his clothes—except his boxer. You twitch from anticipation.

His large hands roam your body, playing with your tits. He pinches them and turn them on his thumbs before his teeth close around it, tongue swirling and mouth clamping. While the other plays with the softness of the untouched one.

He leaves it with spit and glistening, he smirks—proud of him. He fumbles at his underwear, palming his hardened length, hot breaths contrasting with his cold necklace on your burning skin. 

He removes the only remaining thing keeping you on edge, and your eyes instantly widen. His cock is flushed and wet at the tip—pre-cum already drippling down his shaft. A long vein is lustfully pronounced from the base of his cock to the underside of his mushroom tip. 

Your mouth waters at the thought of him filling you completely—that delicious curve of him hitting your spots.

Leaning closer, he presses against you, letting you feel every rough contour. The tension between you stretches taut, the room silent except for your ragged, shared pants.

Your eyes drop, tracing the thick, throbbing length before you—stopping just beneath your bellybutton. It’s impossibly large, and the sight makes your hips buck instinctively, your clit brushing against the coarse pubic hair at its base.

“One little, greedy thing we have here,” he mocks, but the flush in his cheeks betrays him. “You will take all this, just fine, right?”

You answer without words, grinding harder against him, the friction sending sparks through both of you. Pre-cum slicks your lower stomach, and you coat his balls in a warm, wet sheen.

Caleb wraps his hand around himself, slapping his cock roughly against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your thighs tremble, your back arches, and your cunt clenches around nothing—it’s already enough to make you shiver.

But not for too long. 

He lines his cock up at your entrance, pushing in sloooowly. Letting you feel every thick ridge, every vein pulsing along your hot walls. You find support on his strong back, nails digging crescents moon, your eyes rolling back from the stretch alone.

“That’s riiiight,” he pants into your ear, tongue darting out to lick your earlobe. “Let this pretty pussy take me all. You’re doing sooo good.” And Caleb might just as well be delirious now. Your cunt is spasming endlessly around him. The more he pushes, the more your cream coats him, dripping down onto his balls. 

Once he bottoms out, he’s on the verge of cumming hot ropes in your womb. The sensation is exquisite. His cock, beautifully and incredibly, wrapped in your warm, soft walls sponging him like in a dream.

His biceps are bulging, veins tracing down his forearms as lifts himself above you. He presses your thighs up to your chest, forcing his dick impossibly deeper in your heaven. 

The chain of his necklace brushes your face. Your eyelids feel heavy but you fight to keep them open, too gone on the full stretch he’s giving you, fuckin’ thick veins grazing your sweetest spots.

“C-caleb,” you whimper, voice ragged as you speak. “M-move—that’s so good and—mghn… not enough—” tears are sliding down your cheeks, feeling his cock hardening even more inside you.

“Pipsqueak,” he growls, his rough palms circle the back of your thighs, taking leverage as he slides out. The sudden release of stretch makes you cry out, hips chasing him unconsciously. “You’re insane…”

And in a strong, sharp thrust he’s back deep inside you, pushing the air out of your lungs. The cold necklace hitting your chin on the way.

“Fuck—!” your voices harmonizing. 

“S-such a fuckin’ tight pussy,” he pants, sweat glinting along his temple. You can’t hold back—your tongue darts out, licking him clean, desperate to taste every inch.

That’s when Caleb loses all restraint. Every ounce of control shatters as he rams into you brutally, the bed creaking beneath the force. You moan, loud and unrestrained, drowning in the pleasure he drives into you.

He angles his hips so each time he pulls out, he swollen tip of him drags along your G-spot, making your walls clamp down harder. An obscene white creamy ring circles his cock already, slick all over his happy trail and thighs.

And he’s so drowned in this obscene scene playing before him. With your mouth falling onto a prefect O, your nails likely to leave red marks on his back, your cunt greedily sucking him in. Caleb couldn’t help but animalistically rut into you, dragging more and more sounds from deep in your chest. 

“Stick out your tongue,” he orders.

Fuzzy-headed, desperate, you obey instantly, letting your tongue slide out to him. He gathers a generous drop of spit and lets it fall onto your eager mouth. “Swallow it. Like a good girl,” he commands.

You obey, lips closing, eyes squeezed shut, swallowing the hot, sticky liquid.

He folds you harder in half, until your knees are touching your ears. His balls slap and slap against your ass, stimulating you and driving you deeper in the abyss of pleasure. Your vision blurs, white on the edge as the perfect curve of his cock hits the deepest part of you. 

His palm travels down your belly, right where he’s bulging hard in your tummy. He presses heavily on the filthy mark he’s leaving. 

You feel helpless under his strong frame, mindlessly twitching and moaning under his rough assault. All you’re good at now, is taking his cock just the way he wants you to.

“I’m allll the way up here,” he says darkly, pressing his palm with the right amount to have you squirming. “You’re going to cum, ain’t you?” he teases, but he’s not better. His cock swells hard in your tight walls, bullets of pre-cum filling you. His teeth grit, arms bulging as he holds you down. 

“You’re squeezin’ me sooo good,” he bites his bottom lip, his happy trail brushing against your neglected clit, sending sparks through your already fried nerves. He licks a filthy, possessive path from the base of your throat to your lips—muscles taut, sweat coating his brow, the sound of your pornographic moans feeding the fire in him.

“Oh—Oh! Fuck, like that—jus’, fuuuuck!” you try to finish your sentence but it’s no use. Your brain short-circuited from the relentless pounding. Every nerve, every thought, every ounce of control melted away long ago. There’s only you, being fucked raw by his monstruous cock and stamina.

“Y-yeah… got you. Cum for me,” he says love-sick. He stiffens, whimpering as his own climax builds.

Your body spasms violently, cunt clenching. Your walls milk him for all he got, white-hot waves of pleasure crashing through you. Heat, wetness, and the smell of him fill your senses, every nerve ending alive, every inch of you surrendered.

He fucks you harder, plunging deeper. The bed shakes, the air vibrates with your cries and his guttural noises, both of you locked in a rhythm of feral pleasure. His arms tremble, his chest heaving, as he finally tips over the edge—spilling into you.

Even as he comes, he doesn’t pull back. He keeps thrusting, keeping you suspended on the edge of raw, animalistic bliss. 

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