mihan.

The ropes on his arms feel foreign—usually, it’d be you bound up, whining and pleading for more from him. But now, he’s the one spread out, wrists tugged above his head, muscles twitching under the restraints as he watches you beneath him, breath shallow. His cock stands flushed and aching between his legs, contrasting the cool, glistening metal resting against his tip.

"Relax, Caleb," you murmur, trailing your fingers down his stomach, light and teasing. "You trust me, don’t you?"

He does. God, he does. But the unfamiliar weight of hesitance is coiled tight in his gut, warring with the sharp edge of anticipation. The slick press of the instrument at his slit is so delicate, nearly innocent. His fingers flex against the bindings, jaw tightening as heat builds low in his stomach.

He swallows hard, throat drying up. "Baby, I don’t- Fuck- I-I don’t even know what I’m doing…"

"That’s okay," you purr, watching the way his body shudders. "You don’t have to. I made sure to do aaaaall my research before this. It won’t hurt….too much?"

Caleb lets out a sharp exhale, his fingers curling into fists against the restraints. His heart is hammering against his ribs, his voice rough around the edges. "Not sure that’s making me feel any better, honey." 

You only smile, tilting your head as you give the dilator the slightest push forward. His jaw clenches as the cool metal dips past the tight ring of his slit, and oh, fuck, that’s….that’s different. His hips stutter, his body caught between retreat and curiosity. His cock twitches, betraying him, and he glares down at the rod teasing the entrance of his cock like it’s personally offended him. 

You hold it still between your fingers, the gleaming silver catching the light, and Caleb watches it with wide, cautious eyes like it’s a weapon you’re driving into his heart. Catching the emotions swirling on his face, your smile turns softer, lips finding his inner thigh. “It’s thinner than you think. I’ll go slow. Just focus on what you feel, alright?”

He doesn’t answer—can’t answer, too busy trying not to flinch as you let the weight and gravity do most of the work, easing the rod in millimeter by millimeter. His cock jolts in your grip, and his hips shift instinctively like he doesn’t know whether to push away or into you.

“‘S okay?” you ask quietly.

Caleb nods quickly, his hands gripping the sheets on either side of him. “Yeah. Yeah, just…fuck, it’s cold.”

Then, the rod really begins to sink in. His jaw drops, lips parting in a half gasp, half moan as the pressure builds—it’s not pain, but it’s also not pleasure. Not yet, at least. It was more like a bizarre, alien stretch that lights up nerves he didn’t even know existed. With every slow inch, a sensation crawled up from deep within, growing fuller, heavier, and Caleb was heaving even without being touched properly.

“I- God, baby-” He breathes heavily, pupils blown wide. “Wh- What the hell is that?”

“I don’t even-” he groans again as you press just a little deeper, until the rod slips past the tightest part and settles in like it belongs there. His thighs jerk, but your grip steadies him. “S’mthing like this should hurt, right? It’s not supposed to- Ah fuck- Fuck baby, feels like it’s in my stomach.”

You grin. You have him right where you want him to be. “That’s your prostate saying hi, Colonel.”

Caleb laughs, but the noise breaks in the middle. “...Tell it to back the fuck off.”

You hum, amused, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. “Hm. That wasn’t your safeword, was it?” you ask sweetly, giving him a slow, deliberate stroke.

He jolts. Hard.

“Hey-” His jaw tightens as the sound shifts inside him with your movement, pressing against the slick, sensitive walls of his urethra. It’s like there’s a pulse inside him now—like the pleasure is coming from within, surging outward from the center of his cock in waves.

Your hand glides up, mercilessly, expertly- overly patient. Waiting for him to surrender. His length pulses helplessly in your grip, and a fresh bead of precum pushes out around the sound, thick and shiny.

He lets out a ragged breath. “Okay, okay- I get it. New kink unlocked. Ten out of ten. We can stop now, and try this another time when I’m more prepa-”

But you don’t stop. You give him another pump, firmer this time, and watch the way he tenses, words caught in his throat. You hum again, pleased, your hand trailing up to the head of his cock. ”Still not your safeword,” you remark sarcastically, thumb circling the sensitive spot just beneath the head. Not enough to push him over. Just enough to remind him how badly he wants it despite all his hesitation and denial.

He growls. Actually growls, eyes snapping to yours. “You’re mean.”

You pout, mockingly innocent. “You said I could try anything I wanted.”

“I didn’t think you meant torturing me with a goddamn sword in my dick.”

You laugh and start moving again—but this time slower. Languid. Mean, like he complained about. The rod shifts with every stroke, pressing deeper, drawing out tight, involuntary spasms from the depths of his body. He’s gasping now, body tight like a livewire, trapped between frustration and desperate need.

“Baby-” he whines, voice breaking on his next words as his head falls back against the headboard. “Baby, it feels weird feels so so weird-”

You stop.

Caleb feels like he’s about to die.

His breath is uneven, the flush on his ears quickly spreading to his cheeks. “Baby, please, ‘m losing my fuckin’ mind-”

You squeeze enough to make him twitch again. His hips try to buck, but the restraints hold him down, and it drives him up the wall. The metal glides with his motion, brushing something deep—too deep, he thinks—and he chokes on his own moan. 

“I want you to lose your mind,” you mumble, kissing his thigh before gently sinking your teeth into his skin. “That’s the whole point.”

He’s trembling—has been, for a while, and your bite does nothing to soothe the storm of sensations traveling through his nervous system.

You can feel the tension radiating off him in waves, his entire body vibrating with the struggle between wanting more and being overwhelmed. The storm inside him is palpable, and you can practically taste the need rolling off his skin.

“Caleb,” you coax, voice dripping with honeyed seduction. “Just let go. You’re already doing so well.”

He shakes his head frantically. “No, no, no- I can’t. I can’t-” The words tumble from his lips, desperate and pleading. His arms strain against the bindings, his body instinctively searching for more friction, more release. The dilator inside him throbs with every movement, and the heat in his stomach builds dangerously close to a breaking point.

Your hand moves with deliberate slowness, tracing the length of his cock while the sound nestles deep within him. He’s close. Too close. The tension builds, unbearable. “You can. You just have to let yourself feel it.”

Caleb’s breath hitches in his throat as you pick up the pace just a little, reveling in the way his body responds. Every jerk, every shudder, is a testament to your control over him.

“Please,” he gasps out, his eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t- Haah-! Please! Just wanna-”

But you hold him there, poised at the edge. You can see the desperation etched into his features, the way his body strains against the restraints as he fights for a release that feels so close yet just out of reach.

“So close.” Your thumb presses down just on the head of his cock, leisurely circling around the handle of the sounding rod. He whimpers, the sound a mixture of frustration and pleasure that has you wanting to draw out more. “So close, baby. Just a little more. You can take it.”

He arches as you drag your hand again, the combination of your motions and the metal creating a tension that has him throbbing with need. “Please!” he cries, the word spilling from his lips in a rush. “I’m begging you, just let me-”

You tighten your hold just enough to keep him on the edge, your thumb moving in a teasing rhythm that’s driving him up the wall. “But I want your eyes open, baby,” you coo softly. “Want you to see how pretty you fall apart.”

Immediately, his eyes dart open to meet yours, a mix of need and disbelief swirling within their purple depths. “You’re killing me,” he pants, voice laced with desperate longing.

“I’m not killing you. We’re just playing, baby. Finding out what makes you tick, hm?” You lean in, lips pressing a kiss to his cock as you apply a bit more pressure on the dilator.

Caleb’s body betrays him, the muscles in his thighs tightening, his cock pulsing beneath your grip. “Can’t hold it- can’tholditcan’tholditican’tican’t-”

“You’re not supposed to,” you mumble, voice muffled by the kisses you press along his length. As you drag your tongue over his entire cock, the rod shifts deep inside him simultaneously, and the combined sensations finally push him over the edge.

He comes with a keening, high-pitched sound, his torso lifting off the bed, cum spilling in thick, hot pulses around the metal, the orgasm tearing through him so deep and measured it looks like it hurts. Repeated cries of your name leave him, tremors running through his hips and legs as his cum drips down onto your fingers.

You hold him through it, feeling the heat radiating from his body and the overwhelmed shudders as he rides out the waves of pleasure. “That’s it, baby,” you murmur, caressing him gently, letting him bask in the bliss longer than he thought possible. “Just breathe.”

You slow your movements, allowing him to come down slowly, savoring the feeling of him still trembling against your touch. He collapses back onto the bed, panting hard, eyes glazed over  as he tries to process what just happened.

Caleb’s chest heaves as he lies there, boneless and completely undone. His wrists strain weakly against the restraints, more out of reflex than any real attempt to move. Sweat slicks his skin, clinging to the line of his throat, and his lashes flutter with each heavy, ragged breath.

You watch him, quietly captivated. The rise and fall of his body, the dazed look in his eyes—like he just survived something holy and horrible and gorgeous all at once. You reach up and carefully undo the bindings, careful not to jostle him too much. His arms drop with a groan, and you catch one before it hits the bed too hard, guiding it to rest along his side.

He doesn’t speak. Just breathes. Stares at the ceiling like it might have answers.

The sound still rests deep inside him, barely shifting with his post-orgasm twitches. You’re patient with him, waiting until the sharpness of his gasps fades into something slower before you finally—gently—slide the rod free. Caleb hisses, the feeling more sensitivity than pain, and his whole body shudders once more as you place the tool aside and press a soft kiss to the base of his cock.

“You,” he finally rasps, his voice hoarse. “What just…”

You giggle quietly, wiping your fingers clean before shuffling up beside him, one hand sliding across his stomach. “C’mon baby,” you whisper, lips brushing his collarbone. “Didn’t I tell you you’d like it?”

He turns his head slowly to look at you, pupils still blown wide. He looks completely wrecked—and utterly in love. “You’re insane,” he whines, laughter bubbling up despite his exhaustion. “I think you just broke me.”

You smile, brushing your fingers through his hair, heart racing at how much he’s surrendered to you. “Good. That was the idea.”

Caleb lets out a rough, shaky breath and pulls you down into him, his arms wrapping tight around your waist like you might float away if he doesn’t. “You’re evil,” he mumbles, lips brushing against your skin. “I have no idea how you roped me into that.”

You smile and nuzzle back, fingers tenderly squeezing his skin. “Because you love me. Aaaand….you didn’t safeword.”

“I was- I was this close, pipsqueak.” His protest is weak, gesturing with his thumb and forefinger apart before letting his arm flop limply over your body again. “But I couldn’t even remember it. You broke my brain. I hope you’re proud.”

Another quiet giggle escapes you and he huffs, nuzzling further into your neck like he’s trying to crawl under your skin. “I’m not moving,” he declares, the words muffled by your skin. “I deserve cuddle compensation after being pushed to my limit.”

“Oh yeah?” you tease, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “But you’re not denying liking it.”

He exhales a breath that sounds suspiciously close to a contented sigh and mutters, “Greedy girl.”

You stretch out on the sofa, sinking into the cushions, the house unbearably quiet without Sylus. Four days without him weirdly felt like an eternity. Your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt as your eyes flick between the window and your phone—still nothing.

As boredom creeps in for the nth time, you curl onto your side, your cheek pressed against the cushion. The sound of a ticking clock and the rustling leaves outside lull you into a drowsy stillness, thoughts drifting away as sleep creeps in.

When you wake up, you’re no longer on the couch. The soft, luxurious feel of your bedsheets surrounds you, the air smells faintly of something familiar—leather and amber, a trace of something like gunpowder. The subtle sound of breathing next to you catches your attention.

You blink slowly, your head foggy with drowsiness as your eyes begin to adjust to your surroundings. The room is dim, and the pale light of the moon filters through the curtains. You glance down, your body adorned in a lacy white nightgown. For a moment, you’re confused and disoriented, unsure of how you got here or why you’re wearing something so….different.

Then, you hear it.

A deep, amused hum beside you. The familiar warmth of your lover’s presence envelops you. Your gaze shifts to the side and you find Sylus lying next to you, his face relaxed in the way it only ever is when he’s with you.

Your confusion melts away, fading into something soft and surprised. "Sy- Sylus…?" you whisper, breathy and tinged with disbelief, not sure whether this was real or not. His fingers start to thread lazily through your hair, his expression tender.

"Awake at last?" His voice is tinged with affection—smooth, teasing. He shifts closer, the sheets rustling around you, the cool air kissing your bare legs. "And here I thought you'd sleep the night away, kitten."

Heat creeps up your neck at the tone of his voice. He sounds unfairly attractive like this—fond, unguarded. You muffle a soft groan, burying your face into his chest. His chest vibrates with a bemused chuckle, his large hands intentionally roaming down your back.

"Something on your mind?" His fingers linger just above the curve of your ass, pressing you closer.

Suddenly finding yourself flustered, you barely manage to mumble back. "I’m just….wondering when you get back? Did you…change my clothes?"

Your shyness doesn’t escape him—in fact, he seems to revel in it. His thumb traces slow circles over the silky fabric of your nightgown, his breath closer, warm against your ear. The amused glint in his eyes darkens to something more predatory.

"I just got back a few hours ago. And in response to your other question, I did." His voice lowers with amusement. "You looked too peaceful sleeping on the couch, so I thought I’d let you rest, sweetie." His lips brush against your temple, a tender kiss that contrasts the heat stirring between you.

"I missed you," he mutters.  But there’s something deeper beneath it. Something unspoken, as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers are gently caressing your skin, his touch patient, wanting to draw you out. 

A warm flush spreads across your cheeks, tilting your head to meet his gaze, dark eyes full of an intensity that’s always there, even when he’s at his most tender. The distance between you closes as you feel his thumb glide along the lace of your gown, a gentle reminder that his presence is constant—unshakable.

"You were waiting patiently for me," he adds, his other hand pressing against your back, pulling you closer. "That’s something I’ll always appreciate, kitten."

He shifts slightly, his movements slow but intentional, tilting his head to press a line of kisses along the column of your throat. The tension in the air thickens, a quiet anticipation welling up within your core.

The hum of his voice faintly vibrates through you as he speaks. "You’ve been waiting for me this whole time…all on your own. I think that deserves something, don’t you?"

His hands roam gently, with purpose, pulling the lace of your nightgown higher, trailing upwards until they were sitting just below the edge of your panties. His touch is calming yet possessive, making you feel cherished and completely claimed in the same breath. 

"You’ve been so good for me, kitten," his voice husky with desire, beginning to settle in. "Let me show you just how much I appreciate that."

As the words leave his mouth, his lips are already moving down, pausing just long enough to nip at your chest, teeth pinching at your nipples before continuing his descent. Every brush of his mouth and press of his tongue sends waves of arousal through you. Finally, he settles between your thighs, his breath ghosting over the damp fabric clinging to your cunt. The contrast between the heat of his exhale and the cool air of the room has you shivering, a small plea for him to continue slipping past your lips.

"I’ve missed this,” he purrs, his words punctuated with a long, languid lick over the fabric of your panties, tasting. His hands spread you open wider, keeping you at his mercy as he mouths at you through the soaked barrier, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses against your clothed core. "Mm, been thinking about this for days. You have no idea how many thoughts of you filled my mind, sweetheart.”

Sylus keeps you like that, playing with you—drawing out your desires until your whimpers turn into needy, breathless pleas. Your hands thread through his hair, urging him closer, chasing the pleasure only he can give.

And of course, he gives in.

His teeth latch onto the waistband of your panties and pull it down just enough to reveal your dripping cunt. The moment the cool air hits your slick folds, a relieved moan tumbles from your lips. Instinctively, you grind down, seeking any sort of friction, your swollen clit brushing against Sylus’ nose, ripping out a shaky whine from your throat.

He chuckles at your desperation and indulges you, his tongue gliding slowly through your slick folds, savoring every drop with agonizing patience. His hands tighten around your thighs as he begins to lap up the wetness dripping onto the sheets, groaning with every lick to your cunt.

"So pretty like this," he muses against your pussy, his breath fire-hot against your entrance. "And you taste so good."

He flicks his tongue against your clit before sinking in deeper, fucking you with his mouth, his nose nudging perfectly against your aching clit. The slow, deliberate pace of his tongue and the rough pad of his thumb circling your oversensitive bundle of nerves have sparks of pleasure running through your body.

Your moans grow louder, your body moving on instinct as you grind down, chasing the high just out of reach. But Sylus—ever the tease—keeps you there, hovering at the edge, making out with your pussy between intervals of rubbing tight, teasing circles over your folds.

The coil inside you tightens, pleasure pooling low in your belly, yet he holds you there—just shy of release. 

"Sylus, p-please…" The words naturally spill from your lips, cracked and desperate.

At the sound of your ruined voice, Sylus pauses. Slowly, he lifts his head from your cunt, his lips glistening with your slick as he meets your dazed eyes with a satisfied smirk.

"Is there something you need, love?" he drawls, his fingers replacing his tongue, working you open.

"Uh-wah-! Need…Need you, need more, w-want-" Your words dissolve into breathy whimpers, your brain too fogged with pleasure to piece together a coherent plea.

"Mm, trying so hard to use your words even when you're all edged out," he remarks, mockingly impressed. "Just for me?" A deep sigh leaves him, almost as if pitying you. But the way his fingers push inside, stretching you open with ease, tells another story. Your back arches as your walls flutter around his digits, your brain fizzling out every last thought as he sets a steady, devastating rhythm.

His lips find your clit again, sucking, flicking, devouring, and the sensation sends a violent tremor through your body. His fingers curl, pressing into that one spot that makes you see stars-

And then you’re gone.

Your orgasm crashes over you, bliss flooding through you like a breaking dam, your vision blanking as you cry out his name over and over. Your thighs clamp around his head, hips grinding against his palm as he coaxes you through it, not stopping until you’ve soaked his fingers, his mouth, and even the sheets beneath you.

Sylus moans, his gaze fixated on how your slick drips down onto his digits. His eyes then meet yours and he carefully lifts his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean, his tongue swirling around each one with a sinful satisfaction that has your cunt pulsing around nothing.

Then, in one swift movement, he shifts back up, caging you beneath him, his body heat blanketing you. His lips descend onto yours, his tongue slipping between your lips, letting you taste yourself on him. His hands grip your thighs possessively, anchoring you beneath him.

You break away just long enough to catch your breath, yet the moment your gaze locks with Sylus’, you lose it all over again. His red eyes are glazed over with desire, heavy with the weight of holding himself back. 

Like a dragon hoarding its most prized treasure, his grip tightens on your thighs, his fingers flexing possessively against your skin. The veins in his forearms stand out, tension coiling beneath his touch as if he’s holding himself back—or deciding just how much to take. His gaze burns into you, reverent and hungry all at once, as if you’re something sacred. Something he aches to consume whole. Something his.

Breathing in your scent, Sylus unzips his pants, freeing his cock from the tight constraint of his boxers. Your breath hitches at how his length slaps against his stomach, and he catches your reaction, his smirk deepening as he presses a slow kiss to the side of your face.

"Intimidated, kitten?" His voice is low, amused, though there’s an unmistakable gentleness beneath it. "Don’t worry, I’ll go slow. I know it’s been a while."

Despite his reassurance, a flicker of nervous anticipation settles in your stomach. He notices, of course—his touch turning softer, more deliberate. His fingers soothingly trace patterns along your thighs as he positions himself between them, the heat of his body weaving intimately with yours.

He moves with patience, dragging the tip of himself along your cunt, gathering the slick from your folds before nudging forward. The stretch is slow, meticulous, a soft mewl slipping past your lips as he sinks in inch by inch.

Sylus groans at the way your body hugs him, his fingers tightening around your hips as he guides himself further inside. The bed creaks with each of his thrusts, mingling with the sound of your uneven breaths. He fills you completely, every inch of him sliding deeper, claiming every part of you.

Meanwhile, your hands clutch at the sheets, the fabric twisting between your fingers as he sets a steady rhythm, savoring the way you react to every movement. The feel of him is overwhelming —each thrust calculated, controlled. His touches map your body with reverence, tracing over every dip and curve as he watches your reactions, completely captivated.

"You always take me so well," he growls, pressing a kiss against your temple, his breath warm against your skin. "Just like that, sweetheart.”

Sylus takes his time, letting you feel every inch of him, his movements unhurried as he buries himself deeper. A strangled moan is pulled from your throat, and he purrs satisfactorily in response, the husky sound vibrating through your body. His lips never stray from your skin, his breath hot against your temple as he places open-mouthed kisses along your cheek before his teeth scrape gently at your pulse, his tongue soothing the lingering bite.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he rasps. His hips roll forward in a deep thrust, forcing a sharp gasp from your lips. "So tight—your pussy missed me this much, huh?" Your fingers dig into his biceps, nails digging into his muscles as he presses deeper, burying himself to the hilt. A choked sob slips from your lips, your body struggling to readjust to the way he stretches you out. He catches the sound and soothes you, his hand drifting down your stomach, his fingers splaying possessively over your soft flesh.

"Shhh, you're taking me so well," his voice a slow, indulgent murmur. He presses down slightly, feeling the way he fills you from the inside. "You feel that? How deep I am?"

His free hand laces with yours, fingers threading together as he presses your arms above your head, keeping you pinned beneath him. The vulnerability and affection of the situation has you keening, your head tilting back, exposing more of your throat for him to kiss. His pace is steady, pulling out only to push back in with a languid roll of his hips that has you gasping his name.

"Sylus-" The cry is soft, desperate, your body tightening around him.

He groans against your skin, his forehead pressing against yours as he slows even further, dragging out every movement. "Fuck, you sound so good," he breathes, his voice catching on another moan. "So sweet when you're like this."

A loud whimper escapes you. "Sy, I can’t think- I can’t-"

He smirks lazily, relishing how desperate you were for him. "You don’t have to," he coos, releasing your hands to brush his knuckles along your cheek. "Just feel me, kitten. Let me take care of you."

His hips snap forward at a sharper angle, dragging a broken cry from you as he finds that spot that has your hands frantically moving to his back, nails scraping down his back as a ragged moan tears from your lips. He grunts at the sting, but the way his cock twitches inside you spells out his pleasure. 

"Eyes on me," he coaxes, brushing his thumb over your trembling lips. "I want to watch you fall apart on my cock." His eyes are dark and lidded as his pace remains unhurried, savoring every gasp, every shudder of your body beneath him.  His grip tightens on your thigh as he pulls back just to press into your g-spot again, your walls clamping down around him like a vice in response.

“S-Sylus, please-” You don’t even know what you’re begging for. Faster? Harder? More? You’re teetering on the edge, and all you can do is scratch at him like a madman.

A heavy chuckle escapes him as he leans down closer to make sure your gaze is set on him. Only him. His breath is searing against your lips as he presses a lazy kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Please what, sweetheart? Use your words.”

You mewl helplessly, your hips twitching beneath him in search of friction, but he only tightens his grip, holding you firmly in place. Then—he stills completely, his cock buried deep and unmoving. The sudden loss of motion has a frustrated whimper spilling from your lips, your body aching for the pleasure he’s dangling just out of reach.

Your lover brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, looking into your glassy eyes and tutting softly. “Come on, kitten. You were doing so well for me. Tell me what you want.”

Barely able to focus, you whimper loudly, body wound so tight you feel like you might explode at the slightest touch. “Want…want you to move. Please- please, Sy…”

His smirk deepens, clearly satisfied with your desperation. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Then, without warning, he rolls his hips forward again, dragging a loud, broken moan from your lips as he resumes his slow, devastating pace. His hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that have you thrashing beneath him.

“Sylus-!” His name is basically ripped from your throat, your back arching off the bed as pleasure continues to slam through you in waves.

“That’s it,” he praises, his gaze thick with satisfaction and lust. “Let me hear you. Let everyone hear who’s making you feel this good.” 

His breathing turns ragged as his thrusts quicken, losing some of their controlled precision as he chases both of your highs. The filthy, wet sounds of your bodies moving together fill the room, accompanied only by the sharp gasps and needy cries spilling from your lips.

“God, I love this- love you like this,” he groans, pressing even deeper to draw out more of your reaction. “So beautiful when you’re falling apart for me.”

Your walls flutter in a tell-tale sign around him, and he sucks in a sharp breath, his movements growing more eager. “Shit- gonna cum for me, kitten?” His fingers press down harder against your clit, wanting to build up all the sensations you were feeling before you reached your peak. “Wanna feel you when you do. Show me.”

His words unravel you completely, your orgasm hitting with a force that leaves you trembling, your vision going white as you cry out his name. Your walls spasm around him, dragging him deeper into your release, and the sensation is too much for him to resist.

A guttural moan is torn from his throat, and his hips stutter before he thrusts one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you, warmth flooding your entire cunt. His grip on you is almost bruising as he rides out his own high, pressing soft, messy kisses against your lips like a man starving.

For a long moment, neither of you speak, your breaths mingling as you come down together. Then Sylus chuckles, a warm, satisfied sound against your skin.

“Fuck,” he mutters, brushing damp hair from your face. “If this is how we fuck after four days, then I might just make you wait longer next time, sweetie.”

You swat at his arm weakly, still too boneless to do much else. “Don’t you dare.”

he looks up as soon as he hears your footsteps stop, a big, satisfied smirk on his face. yet despite the smugness, his expression is tender, displaying a love that makes your chest tighten with familiarity. before either of you can say a word, you rush over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and immediately melt into his touch.

he's warm, and most of all, real. in your arms. no words are said—they're not even needed as he returns your embrace, nuzzling his face into your hair and pressing you to him like a long-lost piece of himself finally returned. you sink into the quiet gravity of his hold, the space between you dissolving as you breathe in each other's presence. time feels like it's folding in on itself—only the steady rise and fall of his breath tethering you to the moment, to him, to home.

you decide to break the silence, your hands gripping tighter on his clothes, voice muffled by your face in the crook of his neck. "caleb. you’re early. you’re- you're here." the words are slightly cracked, tinted with a quiet desperation and disbelief that has your heart pounding in your chest, still processing what was happening.

caleb only holds you closer, his voice thick with similar emotions. "'course i am, honey. wouldn't trade this for the world." he presses a soft kiss to your head, his hands gently running down your sides and stopping at your waist. he pulls away to look you in the eyes, his gaze filled with something so soft you could almost feel it in your hands. "the expedition ended early. i got home as soon as i could to surprise you."

your eyes drift up and down his face, his neck, any piece of him available to you—you drink it in, relishing in the man before you like a traveler would an oasis in the desert. you swallow, throat thick with longing as you struggle to say another full sentence.

but it doesn't matter, not when he knows exactly what you want to say. your emotions are written on your face, woven into every action, and even without words, caleb can feel it in the space between you, his heart long since in tune with yours.

taking a deep breath, you manage to speak, sniffling. "i was- i was counting down the days. i thought you wouldn't be home for at least a few more weeks-"

caleb only grins softly, tenderly slipping his hand beneath your shirt to feel your skin on his. "you know me, honey. i can't just stay away from you." he punctuates his words with a soft caress up your back, tracing your spine and sending a shiver through your body. it grounds you, his actions and affections so familiar and yet so unreal in the moment.

a small laugh manages to bubble from your lips, relieved and stupefied. you pull him in again, feeling his heartbeat against yours. he's here. all of him.

and suddenly, the exhaustion of the past few weeks, the impatience, the longing, the loneliness—it all fades away, and you're left with something that is so unmistakably home, because you're in his arms.

he lets out a relieved sigh of his own, chuckling slightly and shifting his body to better accommodate yours. in doing so, you're pulled away from him just slightly, the glint of something floating in the air catching your eye. your brows furrow together as the object catches your interest, peeking out at it from above caleb's arms.

a knife.

a floating knife.

you blink. your mind is still catching up with everything, but the sight of a knife hovering a few steps away from you—completely still, suspended in midair—pulls you out of your processing period. your brows furrow even further, your head stiffly moving to look up at your husband.

"caleb...?" as of that moment, his tender gaze had turned into a suppressed grin, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous glint you knew so well. his hands squeeze your sides, voice teasing and lilted. "'sup, honeybunch? still need proof it's really me?"

your eyes flick between the knife and him, your voice slow and hesitant. "caleb, why is there a knife next to us right now?"

he laughs, and it's a warm sound that dissipates any tension in your body, a small smile pulling up at your lips despite the confusion. he leans in with a smirk, shrugging and ruffling your hair as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. "i don't know baby, you were pretty eager to get me in your arms. didn't stop to think twice that i was cutting up some veggies."

your face flushes as you process that he had only used his evol to move the knife he was holding away from the both of you. "...oh," is all you manage to squeak out as he laughs again, gently tugging on your hair to tilt your head upwards and to land a kiss on your forehead.

caleb smirks, his own gaze flickering between the knife and you, "someone had to make sure you didn’t end up with a gash on your hand while trying to tackle me."

you shake your head, still smiling and now slightly flushed due to his actions. "sorry, it was all just..." he cuts you off with a finger to your lips, grinning at the cute sight of your face. "there's no need for an apology, honey. i'm just doing my job as your husband."

he steps forward, the knife gently floating back down onto the counter with a soft clink as he places his hand beneath your chin. "our kitchen is quite the dangerous place, you know."

the playful edge in his voice and the cheeky grin on his face make you laugh, a soft, breathless sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. you shake your head, amusement dancing in your eyes as you finally take in your surroundings—the seasoned chicken resting in the bowl, the steam curling from the bubbling pot of your favorite broth on the stove, and most of all, the warm, inviting scent of home.

it isn't just the food or the careful way he’s prepared everything for you. it’s him, standing there, grounding you in a moment that feels almost too good to be real. the weight of missing him lingers faintly in your chest, but it’s lightened by the fact that, for the first time in weeks, he’s here.

caleb's eyes wash over you with amusement, his head tilting as his thumb caresses your cheek before gently pressing into your skin, affectionately squeezing your face. "you okay there, pips? looks like you're about to start crying over dinner."

his teasing lingers for only a second before something shifts. his touch, once playful, turns softer—more deliberate. his hands come up to cradle your face fully, his warmth seeping into your skin. it's only then that you realize why his expression has changed.

you were crying.

warm, salty tears are trickling down your face as you try to deny your current state, your lips trembling as you let out a shaky laugh. "ah, i’m-," you start off, but the crack in your voice betrays you. you sniffle, swiping at your face, affection and frustration mixing in your expression. "it’s not-”

but caleb just smiles, thumbs brushing away the tears before they can fall any further. "i know," he murmurs, voice as warm as his touch. "i know, baby."

caleb doesn’t say anything else—he doesn’t need to. instead, he pulls you in, pressing his lips gently to your forehead, letting them linger there for a few precious moments. his touch is grounding, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself lean into it completely.

his fingers stroke along your back in soothing circles, a silent reassurance that he’s real, that he’s with you. and you believe it. because how could you not, when his presence feels like the most tangible thing in the world?

after a few quiet breaths, he pulls away just enough to meet your gaze again, studying your face with something soft and knowing. “feeling a little better?”

you sniffle, nodding as you wipe at your eyes again. “yeah. just… didn’t expect this.”

he grins, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone one last time before he finally steps back, hands slipping down to rest at your waist. “well, i was hoping for a ‘wow, my incredibly handsome husband is the best for surprising me like this!’ but i guess tears of joy work too.”

you roll your eyes, though there’s no real annoyance behind it. “if you wanted me to swoon, you should’ve walked in with flowers, colonel.”

caleb lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “damn, should’ve known i was dealing with high standards.”

“very high,” you confirm, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.

he huffs out a laugh before squeezing your waist one last time and turning back to the counter. “cmon, pips. go set the table before you start crying again.”

you mumble sarcastically but oblige, pulling out the plates and utensils while he goes back to cooking. the kitchen is quiet save for the soft sounds of bubbling broth and the rhythmic chop of his knife against the cutting board.

it’s a comfortable kind of quiet—the kind that settles lovingly in your ribs, wrapping around your heart like the warmest embrace.

and when you finally sit down for dinner, across from the man who makes your world feel so much brighter just by being in it, you realize that no matter how long he’s gone, no matter how much you miss him, this moment will always come back to you.

Never could you have imagined your childhood best friend—your Caleb—reduced to this. Bent low, rutting against your foot, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he clings to you like a man drowning. His breath hitches, every exhale a shaky plea and every syllable strung tight with desperation.

"Ma’am, please," he whines, voice frayed at the edges. "Mercy, just a little- I’m-"

He’s been begging for so long now, left to suffer under the slow, unbearable grind of your foot against his cock. The flimsy grey shorts he wears do nothing to hide the outline of his length and how it throbs beneath your touch. There’s a dark, wet patch on the fabric where his precum is seeping through, proof of just how far you’ve pushed him.

He swallows hard, throat working against the sob lodged inside. "I’ll be good," he tries. "The best puppy there is. Just-" A shudder rolls through him, knocking the breath from his lungs. "Please?"

Shame burns high on Caleb’s cheeks, but his body betrays him. His thighs are quivering, his hips twitching—helpless, needy and grinding forward like he has no control over himself. He’s trembling, panting through parted lips, desperate sounds spilling free before he can even think to swallow them down.

"Anything," he chokes out. "I’ll give anything, take anything—just, please."

Oh, you know that. You know how much he’ll endure, how much he’ll let you bend him before he breaks. He would lose himself for you. He would trade his dignity, his sanity, just for the promise of more. If only you’d let him. If only you’d be generous. If only-

But you wait.

You watch.

Every second stretches, thick and unbearable, and you see him fraying at the seams. His breath hitches and his fingers twitch, clawing at nothing. His muscles are locked up, fighting the desperate urge to reach, to take, to claim. But he wouldn’t. Not without your approval.

Caleb’s body moves before his mind catches up, swaying forward, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, aching for the warmth he knows only you can grant him. But just before he crosses that line—just before he dares, you move first.

Your reach for him, your fingers delicately tracing the outline of his jaw. He goes rigid, a sharp gasp caught in his lungs. And then, like instinct, like worship—he nuzzles into your touch, breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts.

"You’re shaking," you murmur, thumbing over his flushed cheek. A slow, amused smile tugs at your lips. "Are you really this desperate, Caleb?"

His head jerks in a frantic nod, a strangled noise rising from his throat. His pupils are blown wide and his breath comes in short, uneven bursts. "I am, yes, I am-”

Your fingers drift lower, ghosting down his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing beneath your touch. His pulse is hammering under his skin and his body burning up, melting into every bit of contact like he’d fall apart without it. And he would fall apart without it.

But then—

You pull away.

His reaction is instant. He jerks forward before he can stop himself, a strangled whimper escaping before he can bite it back. But he stops himself right before he touches you, instinct warring with obedience. He knows better than to take without being given.

And that control—his restraint, more than anything, is what keeps you entertained. The sight of the Colonel, wrecked and on the verge of breaking, sends a thrill curling through your body. Yet you only hum, sighing as if you were bored, as if his suffering wasn’t the most intoxicating sight you’ve ever witnessed.

The heat simmering in you darkens, twisting into something deeper, something dangerous for the both of you. A morbid curiosity forms: just how far could you push him before he snaps?

"So…" you muse, tilting your head, feigning thoughtfulness. "You’ll take whatever I give you?"

"Anything, ma’am," he replies without hesitation.

Amused, you chuckle softly, tilting your head as if considering it. Here he is, hanging off your every word, completely at your mercy, willing to do anything for just a sliver of your attention. And just when his breath catches, just when he’s right on the edge of breaking-

You lean in.

Leaning closer, you drink in the sight of him—the unraveling need, the way his chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. You draw a gasp from his throat as your breath ghosts over his skin, his lashes fluttering, lips parting on instinct.

"Reward?" your voice is velvet and steel, soothing and binding him all at once. "And what, exactly, does my good boy think he deserves?"

He stills. You see the moment the question sinks in, the way his mind races to find the right answer, the answer that will please you most. His whole body locks up, his hips stopping, his movements going rigid with obedience. "I want- Please let me- Please let me get off to you, Ma’am- Please, please, I- I've been so good, haven’t I?"

To punctuate the plea, he shifts closer, tilting his head slightly to bare his throat, showing you the claim you left on his shoulder earlier. On his skin is a deep red hickey, an unspoken declaration of ownership. A mark of your control. Of what he lets you, and only you do to him. 

Your breath catches, your grip on his chin tightening. Your playful edge dulls into something sharper, something darker—something that twists in your gut, matching the raw, helpless hunger gripping his body.

"And how," you murmur, thumb tracing his lower lip, "does my puppy want to get off?"

His breath stutters.

He knows you know what he wants, knows you’re forcing him to say it. Knows you won’t make this easy for him.

Frustration flashes in his eyes, but he swallows it down, schooling his features into something softer, something needier. Something he knows you won’t be able to resist. A few more pathetic gasps spill past his lips, each one measured to push you closer to giving him what he’s been begging for. His voice trembles, perfectly frayed at the edges, knowing that this will be the undoing for you both.

"Please, I want- I want to rub myself against my mistress’s panties…?"

The hesitation in his words is deliberate, the breathy edge to his voice sharpened just enough to slice through your restraint. He tilts his head just a tad more, the mark on his neck like an offering, his lashes fluttering to give off the look of being lost in submission. 

He’s waiting. Waiting for you to give in.

Yet it’s only thick, unbearable silence that stretches between you once more, suffocating his patience.

His cock twitches at the suspension, a sharp pulse of need that sends heat curling down his spine. Every second you make him wait is agony, his body screaming at him to move. His instincts beg him to take, to claim, to fucking have you.

But he doesn’t.

He kneels. He obeys. He waits.

And fuck, if he weren’t so well-trained, he would’ve already had you under him. Would’ve already-

But he doesn’t. He stays still. He bows his head, pressing his forehead to your knee like a supplicant at an altar, forcing himself into the shape you’ve carved him into.

He chooses to be good.

And that is the thrill of it all.

Entertained, your fingers drift along his jaw, barely there. He exhales sharply, his whole body shuddering under your touch. “Hm… is that really what you want, puppy?”

"Yes," he whines—too fast, too eager, and too fucking wrecked to care.

You drag it out, humming, letting the tension coil tighter. “Or, is that what you think I want to hear?”

He stills. And for the briefest second, you see it—the flicker of a dangerous, untamed wolf.

And then just as quickly, he swallows it down. Shoves it away. Forces himself to be what you’ve trained him to be. To what he’s trained himself to be.

But you see it.

And you want it.

So you smile—slow, sharp—and lean in again. Close enough that he freezes. Close enough that your breath grazes his lips, close enough that his whole body locks in anticipation-

And then, you pull away.

The sound he makes is devastating. A raw, half-snarl, half-plea, his fingers digging into his thighs, fighting not to just break.

You coo at his display, your voice syrupy-sweet. “Such a good boy,” you purr, watching him shiver from the praise and restraint. “Holding yourself back so well.”

He clenches his jaw, his shoulders wound as tight as a bowstring. He knows you’re toying with him. Knows you want him to snap.

And god, he wants to. If only he were to tear through the last fraying threads of control. To devour you whole.

But before he can spiral further, you give him relief. He chokes on a gasp as your foot presses down harder against his cock, the pressure forcing his back to arch, his body keeling over and his chin dropping onto your knee. Any words he tries to form dissolve into moans, ragged and broken, as you slip your foot beneath his waistband, rubbing him through his boxers.

His fingers dig harshly into his thighs, blunt nails leaving half-moon crescents in his skin. But it’s the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely. His breath is shallow and unsteady, his whole body trembling, every fiber of him clenched, drawn so tight you can almost hear the tension hum.

You press again, and a strangled sob is torn from his throat as he lurches forward, too overwhelmed to keep himself upright. His forehead presses into your thigh, letting out short, desperate gasps against your skin. The scent of his need clings to the air, thick and intoxicating, and you inhale slowly, savoring the way he crumbles beneath you.

“Oh, look at you,” you murmur, amusement laced with control. “Just falling apart.”

“Poor puppy.” You shift your foot, just enough to make him jolt, to draw out a broken whimper. His thighs clench, his hips jerking helplessly into the teasing press of your sole. You watch his face contort, his jaw tightening, failing to hold onto the last scraps of his composure. As if he isn’t already beyond salvation.

“You’re drooling, Caleb.” Your voice is almost pitying, as if you don’t revel in the way his resolve is splintering.

It’s unbearable. You’re unbearable.

And you know it.

He lets out an unintelligible sound, and your foot presses down harder, sending him keening. His body jerks and ruts into the pressure, his boxers damp and clinging to his cock.

He’s panting, his whole body trembling, and yet still—still, he waits for you to let him fall.

“Please, Ma’am,” he chokes out, voice cracked and thin. His fists clench, the last of his restraint hanging by a thread. “I can’t- I need-”

You tilt his head back with a slow tug of his hair, drinking in the sight of him—his glassy, ruined eyes, the flush burning up his throat, the raw, hopeless hunger etched into his face.

And then you sigh. Soft. Dismissive.

Caleb flinches.

“Hm. And here I thought you were my good boy.” Your nails scrape lightly against his scalp, a ghost of affection before your grip tightens, forcing his head still. “But look at you. Making such a mess. Being so sloppy.”

Panic quickly overtakes his dazed expression. “No, no, I-” His throat bobs as he swallows, hard. “I am good, I swear, I-”

“Are you?” Your voice is measured, cool, watching the way he twists in the silence, watching how his desperation coils tighter at the lingering disappointment in your tone.

He hates this.

Hates when you doubt him.

Hates being anything less than perfect for you

His lips part, searching, pleading. “Please,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “Please let me prove it.”

And that’s what you were waiting for. That’s why you let him dangle, why you let him crack without letting him shatter.

Because now, he’s exactly where you want him.

Desperate. Submissive. Willing to do anything.

And that—that is what you wanted.

Your fingers ease, smoothing over his cheek, and the sheer relief in his expression sends a thrill to your core. You tilt your head, letting a slow, satisfied smile spread across your lips as you revel in the moment. His desperate need is palpable, and you want to draw it out, savor it.

“If you want to prove it,” you hum, dragging your foot away, “then show me.”

Caleb's eyes widen, a flash of excitement breaking through his haze of desperation. You lean back slightly, letting your foot slip off his cock, and that’s the only cue he needs—he scrambles off the floor, caging you between your arms as he shifts closer, pressing his body against yours.

You’re trapped beneath his figure, his weight pressing you into the mattress, yet the desire in his eyes doesn’t phase you. No, not one bit. Not when your hunger matches his, pulse for pulse, breath for breath.

A shudder rips through him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breath hot and uneven, tinged with reverence. His body is flush against yours, muscles trembling as he fights to pace himself, to stray from losing control the second he finally has you beneath him.

"Thank you," he whimpers, a prayer against your skin. His lips brush over your pulse, lingering just enough to make you shiver. "Thank you, Ma’am."

His shorts and boxers are discarded to a far corner of the room, leaving him bare against you, his cock pressed flush to the cool silk of your lingerie. Precum smears across the fabric, darkening it with every shallow grind of his hips. The friction is light, teasing—but even that has him shaking. His fingers fist the sheets, muscles locking as he bars himself from losing himself too quickly.

You feel his restraint in every shuddering breath, every stifled moan, the way he fights to take only what he’s given. His forehead rests against yours, your breaths mingling, desire spilling from his parted lips as he moves again, pressing himself against you.

"I-" His voice is wrecked, thick with pleasure and gratitude. His hips roll again, slow, deliberate, rubbing himself against the soft lace stretched over your cunt. He chases your heat like it’s the only thing keeping him sane, savoring every inch of contact. "Feels so good-"

Your fingers trace a slow path down his side, and he whimpers. Even with his body caging yours, it feels like you’re the one pulling the leash wrapped tight around his neck.

"Puppy…you like this, don’t you?" The question is smooth. Knowing.

His whole body jolts, rhythm faltering as another wave of pleasure wracks through him. The words spill from him instantly, raw and full of desire. "Yes, fuck- I do, Ma’am-" His grip on the sheets tighten, his knuckles turning white from the sheer effort of holding himself together, to not fuck into you, to not rip off your panties and sink into your tight heat.

A hot rush of tears gathers in his eyes, his mind spinning further into need. His body moves on its own, grinding deeper, chasing anything that will push him over the edge. His fingers dig into your waist, pulling you closer, as if that will save him.

His pupils are blown wide, the wildness in his gaze unmistakable. He’s right there, teetering, ready to break.

But you don’t move. You let him unravel, let him drown. Every shudder, every desperate twitch, every broken sound is for you. And he knows it.

"Ma’am," he whines, his voice cracking as his rhythm stutters. “I want to- I want to- Please let me-”

Your body responds, heat coiling tight as his breath hitches against you. "Good boy," you murmur, and the way he shudders at the praise sends a sharp pulse of desire straight to your core. “Hm…is my puppy gonna cum so fast?”

“I am,” he cries, a fervent mantra that spills from his lips, hips rocking in that shaky rhythm as he feels you overtake his senses. “Can- May I?”

You hum, dragging your nails down his back, feeling the way his muscles jerk beneath your touch. His breath hitches, a broken moan slipping free, his entire body locked tight with need.

"You may," you purr, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "If you can do it like a good boy—without making a mess."

A sob catches in his throat, his hips stuttering mid-grind as his mind scrambles to process the command. "I- I can, I will- fuck-" His fingers dig harder into your waist, his whole body trembling as he desperately chases his release without breaking the rules you've set.

Every motion is torturous, pleasure crackling through his nerves like a live wire. His cock throbs, aching as he ruts against the silk, the damp fabric dragging against his sensitive length in a way that has him pleading through the choked-off moans spilling past his lips.

"Ma’am, please, please-" His voice is thin, broken apart by desperate little hiccups of pleasure. "I‘m so close, fuck, so close, please-"

His entire face presses against yours, his damp lashes fluttering, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. His grip on the sheets is nearly murderous, his body thrumming with the promise of release.

And then—he breaks.

A strangled sob rips from his throat as his hips jerk forward, his cock pulsing against the silk, the sheer force of his orgasm wracking through him. His whole body tenses then trembles as he spills, soaking through the fabric, painting your lingerie with thick, hot spurts of cum. 

You decide to place a hand on the head of his cock, and he shatters all over again as you squeeze, hot tears flowing down his face as he’s sent careening into cloud 9. More cum shoots out of his cock, this time reaching your stomach and tits, your skin stained with his fluids.

His moans turn into soft whines, body twitching with aftershocks as he clings to you, burying his face against your neck, panting raggedly.

You let him catch his breath and settle for just a moment. Then—your fingers fist in his hair, yanking his head back to meet his bleary, wrecked gaze. He fucking yelps, his cheeks streaked with tears as he blubbers over his words.

“M-Miss, I- I-It’s hngh-! too- too good, I-I-” His voice is high, cracking between sobs as he trembles under your grasp. His body is still shuddering from the aftershocks, his cock still hard and throbbing against the soaked silk separating you.

You click your tongue, tilting your head as you drink in the flushed, ruined sight of him, struggling to piece himself together when you both know he's already fallen apart.

"Too good?" you echo, mock sympathy curling around the words. Your grip tightens, nails digging into his scalp just enough to make him wince. "You made such a mess. And here I was, thinking you could be good for me."

Caleb lets out a soft, broken whimper, the humiliation sparking something deeper in his dazed, pleasure-drunk mind. “I- I’m sorry, I…I can be good, I promise-  I-I’ll be better the next time-"

"Next time?" you repeat, your voice low and dangerous as you squeeze his cock again, enough to make him jolt, his body writhing from the overload of sensations. "Who says I'll let you have a next time?"

The words hang heavy between you, and Caleb’s eyes widen, a sob escaping him as he scrambles for your forgiveness. He shakes his head, pressing himself closer to you as if he can beg with his body as much as with his words. "No, no Miss- Please, I’m sorry! I’ll do better- I’ll be better, I can prove it to you-!"

Dread floods his already wrecked expression, his hands scrambling to grip at you—your wrists, your waist, anything he can reach as if holding onto you might keep you from slipping away. His words crumble into another sob as he buries his face against your neck, pressing frantic kisses to your skin between shaky pleas. "Please, Miss, I need you, I need to prove it to you, please don’t take it away from me-”

You tilt your head, watching him squirm beneath the weight of your words. Then, just as he opens his mouth to plead again, you drag your nails down his chest, slow and deliberate, making him shudder.

"Anything, huh?"

"Yes- Yes, Miss, anything," he gasps, nodding frantically. "Anything, anything- I’ll be your good boy, your good puppy. I’ll hold myself back, I will, I will-"

A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at your lips. Your grip in his hair tightens once more, pulling his head back further until his throat is bared to you, shaking and vulnerable.

"You are such a pain in the ass," Rafayel whines. "My ass, specifically. My cheeks are red and sore from how much I have to deal with you being away from me, cutie. Think about that — Rafayel, master painter and artist, unable to create because he can't sit down for 5 seconds without his butt hurting because of how much his girlfriend pains it by not being by his side! Think about i-"

Before he can continue his tirade, your finger presses against his lips, effectively shutting him up. His face reddens at the gesture, and his eyes go wide as he reaches for your arm to pull it away. Much to his dismay, he only gets as far as wrapping his fingers around your wrist before you swoop down and hook your arm behind his knees, successfully flipping him over and holding him half-upside-down as you make your way from the entrance of his house to his living room.

As expected, Rafayel immediately flails, his protests getting louder and more vigorous, his arms flailing as he holds onto your torso for dear life. "Hey-! Hey cutie, baby, sweetheart I'mgoingtodiefisharen'tmeantobeheldlike-"

His protests get cut off with your exasperated sigh as you toss him onto the couch. He lands with a small 'oomph!', looking up at you with a flustered expression as he attempts to regain his bearings.

"You- You- You-" His head turns away from you in frustration, his voice breathless and indignant.

This is your chance.

You slide on top of him, your hands trailing down his sides, resting on his waist. The touch sends a shiver throughout his body, his words caught in his mouth.

You look him up and down idly, another sigh leaving your lips as your gaze focuses on his slightly unbuttoned shirt. "Pain in the ass, Rafayel? Who's the one who called me all day, begging me to finish up work so that he could- What? Whine about me doing exactly what he wanted?"

He only flushes darker, gulping down his growing anxiety while he stumbles over his words. "L-Look, look! Can you get mad at me? I just w-wanted to see my beautiful gorgeous amazing kind girlfriend really bad and-" He attempts to compose himself, flaring red as he pouts and tries to calm down, only to look like a fish out of water. "I...I didn’t mean...to...hurt you, baby...no...that’s not what I meant to say...I just…" 

You raise an eyebrow, silencing him as your gaze grows stern. "Did you forget that this beautiful, gorgeous, amazing and kind girlfriend has work? Despite that, I do my best to come home earlier....and you call me a pain in the ass? Do you know how unfair that is, Raf?"

A soft huff escapes him at your cutting tone, and as your hand rests on his chest, he finds himself losing resistance for anything else you had to say — or do.

"I'm- I'm sorry, baby...." His eyes flick to the pressure of your hand on him, feeling the weight of your frustration....and something else. Something that would only bring him to ruin.

He tries to speak again, knowing how futile it'd be. "I didn't mean-"

"Rafayel?" The look in your eyes is sharp, cutting, and hungry.

He gulps again, feeling like he's losing air. His pulse quickens as his cheeks flush even deeper, his voice small yet underlined with need."...Yes, Miss?"

You finally let a small smile pull up at your lips, though the command in your next words is palpable. "Get the strap."

His entire world seems to freeze for a moment.

Rafayel stares at you, stunned, his breath catching in his throat. His cheeks are positively burning, his body now humming with anticipation. For a moment, neither of you move. Then slowly, he swallows, his wide eyes darting around as if searching for an escape that doesn't exist. 

"Do I need to tell you twice?" Your voice is quieter now, but the command is still there. His hesitation thickens the air between you both, as he knows exactly what will happen if he doesn’t comply. He lingers, just a second longer—before stumbling off the couch, clearing his throat in a poor attempt to mask his flustered state. His legs feel like jelly as he heads toward the bedroom.

A few minutes later, he returns, holding the box in his arms. His fingers tighten around the corners and his eyes flit around the room, searching for anything to focus on but you. His lips press into a thin line, embarrassment coloring his features—but the way he shifts, the way his fingers twitch? That betrays the real story.

Unfortunately for him, he knew exactly what he was getting himself into the moment those words left his mouth.

You don’t say anything at first, simply lifting two fingers and gesturing him forward. Your eyes flick to the empty space beside you, silent and expectant.

He hesitates. Then, reluctantly, he steps closer, lowering himself onto the couch with stiff, uncertain movements. Still, he avoids your gaze, fumbling with the lid of the box as if stalling would change his fate.

First comes out a sleek, white harness. Next is a thick, pink dildo. He exhales shakily—looking at it makes him feel so full, and you haven’t even touched him yet.

"You know what to do, baby." Your voice is low, an intoxicating purr that slides down his spine like silk, wrapping around him and tightening.

"Stop fumbling like this is your first time, okay?"

He stiffens, feeling his heart beating in his throat. Maybe—just maybe, he was starting to regret greeting you with so much attitude. Good, you’ll fuck the rest of it out of his system.

Obediently, borderline mechanically, he pulls the harness from the box, setting it between the two of you. The lube comes next. Finally, the dildo. All three items are resting between the two of you, a tense silence filled with the weight of anticipation.

You stare, silent and unmoving, your eyes never wavering from him. It's an unspoken command, one that wordlessly strips away the last of his defenses. He's exposed, raw—even more so as his fingers slip beneath the hem of his sweater, pulling it over his head.

His pale, toned skin is revealed inch by inch, and you let out a soft, approving hum that has his cock twitching beneath his clothes. You don’t even have to say a word. The way your eyes drink him in, slow and deliberate, is enough.

His breaths are now shallow, erratic. He forces himself to sit still, but it’s impossible to ignore how his arousal strains against his pants, how his body betrays every inch of himself with the burning desire to be under your command.

Rafayel bites his cheek, trying, trying so hard to keep the whimper locked down his throat. His chest rises and falls erratically as your fingers work their way down his body, tracing each curve and ridge of his muscles. He bites down on his lip to stifle a moan, but you see the way his body trembles beneath your hand, a silent admission of his growing need.

Soon enough, Rafayel finds himself bare, his cock drooling onto his stomach as your fingers work him open. He grips on the cushions below him, knuckles white with how tightly he's holding on. Each slow, deliberate movement of your fingers pulls a reaction from him—a shuddering gasp, a breathless moan, a whine so sweet you can feel the heat pooling between your legs.

By the time he's prepped and ready for you, his cock is stiff against his stomach, the tip red and needy, slick smeared across his skin. His mind is hazy with pleasure and anticipation as you take the bottle of lube, coating the strap with methodical, practiced movements. The wet sounds alone have him mewling, his thighs twitching as he struggles to keep still. His sounds catch in his throat when he finally meets your gaze, amusement glinting in your eyes as a lazy smirk tugs at your lips.

"...Look at you." Your voice is oozing with fake sympathy and thick with hunger that threatened to devour him whole. "You’ve taken barely anything, yet you’re already shaking."

Rafayel tries—and fails—to stifle himself with a bite to his lip, the muffled sound escaping anyway, somehow even filthier for the effort. His hips cant in search of friction, his voice wrecked with want. "Miss, please- I-I need-"

"Need what, baby?" Your fingers trail down his chest, pressing against the planes of his body to still his squirming. His breathing stutters under your touch, his skin burning hot like a fever. "Mm....you know, I think you've forgotten something already."

He whines, louder this time, brows furrowing in confusion as his scrambled, desire-fogged mind struggles to process what you might possibly be talking about. What could you possibly mean when everything you wanted from him was right in front of you—right?

"M-Miss wha-" His sentence cuts off in a strangled moan as you align yourself with him and thrust forward, filling him in one smooth motion. His back arches off the cushions, his mouth falling open in a wrecked gasp, a whimpering mix of surprise and pleasure spilling from his lips. "Miss- oh fuck- Baby, ah- ahh- Wha-What did I- hngh do?!"

"Oh no. You've already gone dumb on me?" You sigh and tut at the pitiful, confused sight below you. You draw yourself out achingly slow, before snapping your hips forward, burying yourself to the hilt again. He cries out, hands gripping the cushions, his body jolting at the force of your thrust. Words tumble from his lips, barely coherent, lost between moans and gasps.

"So desperate," you murmur, letting your nails trace his sides and smirking at how he shivers. "I bet this is what you wanted all along. Running that mouth, acting up—just so I'd fuck you stupid. Now you get to feel just how much of a pain in the ass I can be."

Your fingers slide up his trembling thighs, moving them to rest against your shoulders as you set a punishing pace, pulling out of him halfway only to slam back in. With each thrust, he quivers, the impact leading his cock to bounce helplessly against his stomach. "Look at you," you hum, voice syrup-sweet, yet laced with something cruel. "Already shaking. What happened to all that attitude, hm?"

Desperate sounds wrenched from his throat are his only answer, his fingers holding onto the cushions for dear life. His lips part, trying, but no words follow. His mind is too fogged, too lost in the rhythm of your hips and the way you fuck him just right, keeping him on the edge.

You chuckle, your grip tightening. "Nothing to say now? Or did I fuck the fight out of you already?" You lean in, lips brushing against the shell of his ear, voice dripping with amusement. "You'll take what I give you. And you'll be thankful for it."

All he manages is a choked sob in response. Rafayel's mind is completely fuzzy as you keep repeating your actions, pulling out halfway only to slam yourself all the way back in. The constant stretch has him shaking, lips parting in loud moans as his hole constantly squeezes around your strap, sucking you in deeper.

"Miiiss….!" He slurs out, his hands letting go of the cushions to cover his face. Too embarrassing, too vulnerable, his brain screams—but you grab his wrists, pinning them down above his head and his eyes roll back, fully overwhelmed by the moment. Sensing that maybe he was going to break too quickly, you slow down your movements, pacing it out to be more slow, more deliberate.

Your lover whimpers at the change, his lashes fluttering as he blinks up at you, completely at your mercy. His breath comes in tiny stutters as he catches it, arms twitching as you hold them down. "Miiss…please- please I can’t- ‘s all too much-"

You slow down even more, letting the tip grind into him, sending little shocks of pleasure throughout him. "You seem-" you punctuate your words by gripping his wrists tighter, "perfectly pretty and fucked. Besides, I told you to take what I give you. I’m even being a little nice, nicer than a little slut like you deserves right now."

Rafayel sobs at your words, his body tensing beneath your touch. He squirms beneath you, wrists testing against your grip, but you don’t let up. You watch the way his flushed chest rises and falls, his breaths shaky, needy, completely wrecked.

You continue, voice slow and teasing, "But, since you’re already falling apart…" You lift your hips ever so slightly, the tip of your strap barely pressing inside him before sinking back in agonizingly slow. His body clenches around you instinctively, and you feel him shudder as his cock twitches. "Maybe I should really give you something to cry about."

A confused, broken sound is all that’s able to fall from his lips before you slam back into him, resuming your punishing pace. His body shakes yet arches into every thrust, pleasure coursing through him until all he can do is take it—take you.

"Miss-! Ahh, Miss, I-It’s-!" His voice cracks, his head tilting back as his eyes lose focus, mouth falling open in a soundless moan before another cry escapes. His cock is leaking, neglected and weeping onto his stomach, each thrust making his mind delve further into the blinding haze of pleasure.

"You're what, baby?" You coo, letting your nails drag lightly down his arms, making him shiver. "Losing your mind? Coming already? Just from getting fucked like this?"

He mewls frantically, but you tsk, slowing your movements again, enough to force him to plead with you desperately. "N-no, no, no- Miss, please!" He cries, his hips trying to chase your thrusts, but your grip keeps him in place. "Please no, I want to- I need it, Need you pleasepleaseplease—"

You smirk, taking pity on him—for now—as he unravels beneath you. "So greedy," you murmur, and with one sharp thrust, you make sure to grind deep, right against that perfect spot inside him, and the scream that rips from his throat is downright filthy.

"But that was nice." Your voice drips with satisfaction, nearly manifesting as a low purr. "Now, be a dear and come for me."

Rafayel screams—and all he sees is white as thick spurts of cum shoot out of his completely untouched cock, painting his stomach and even his chest. Your name flows from his mouth like a waterfall, praises and ‘thank yous’ slurred in between all the loud moans and desperate gasps for air.

While he experiences his high, you start stroking his cock, coaxing out any leftover seed from him. He whimpers at the slight overstimulation, but what you have planned for him is much worse. Sliding your fingers down, you grip the base of his length, and his response is immediate—even in his half-delirious state, he jolts in surprise, a high-pitched whine catching in his throat as his body spasms beneath you, his sensitivity cranked to the max. His thighs are trying to clamp shut around your waist, but you let go of your other hand that was holding his wrists, instead forcing his legs open for you.

Rafayel tries to protest—again, hasn’t he learned his lesson? Yet you only croon, your grip on his cock firm as you squeeze just enough to send another jolt of sensation through him. "Shh, baby. You can take more. You wouldn’t want to….disappoint me now, would you?"

He sobs, his head shaking weakly, but his body betrays him. He twitches in your hold, already starting to get hard again despite the oversensitivity wrecking him. His body knows it belongs to you, even when his mind is too far gone to process it.

You answer for him, a smirk curling on your lips as you loosen your grip just enough to stroke him again, slow, teasing. "You can. And you will."

He chokes out a sound somewhere between a cry and a moan, legs shaking beneath your hold as his nails dig into the palm of his hand. His flushed, tear-streaked face is a sight to behold—his lips are parted, his eyes are glassy, and he’s completely at your mercy.

"I c-can't-!" he hics, his breath ragged, but his body is already proving him a liar. Every nerve in his body is alight, each stroke only winding him tighter, pushing him further into the pleasure he claims he can’t take. His cock twitches, standing rigid in your palm, glistening with need despite his desperate pleas. The contradiction is almost adorable.

"Mm, but look at you." You roll your hips again, grinding into his oversensitive hole, and his back arches beautifully. "Hard again already. Such a good little thing for me."

At the same time, your hand resumes its pace along his slick length, stroking him in time with your thrusts. The dual sensation has Rafayel outright wailing, trembling violently as he tries to escape both the pleasure and the overwhelming stimulation—but there’s nowhere to go. Every grind of your hips presses against that spot inside him that makes him see stars, and your fingers work him mercilessly, coaxing more from him even as he shudders from the aftershocks of his last orgasm.

His nails dig into the cushions, his body trembling like he might shatter apart at any moment. "No, Miss, it's- it's t-too much-"  

You chuckle, briefly letting go of his cock to smear the mess he made across his flushed skin before you return to stroking him, your hand now wet and sticky from his release. "Too much?" You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you give a particularly sharp thrust, making him cry out. "Or too good?"  

"Oh fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuc- Miss please, I can'tIcan'tIreallyca-" His rambles get cut off by a thrust directly to his prostate, his eyes rolling back in bliss as thick streams of cum erupt from his cock again, painting his stomach in hot bursts. His voice reaches a pitch that seems almost impossible, a desperate cry that echoes in the room, pure ecstasy spilling from his lips as he completely loses himself to pleasure.

Each pulse of his release sends another jolt through him, and he’s overwhelmed, breathless, and utterly defenseless. Spurred on by his sensitivity and mindless babbles, you only move your hips faster, slamming your hips against his ass and relishing in every sob that left his mouth. All his protests were slurred together, words that he didn't really mean — and at some point, they turn into cockdrunk praises.

"Miss please, 's-sho good i hngh- ah! M-Miss, I...I..." His voice is cracked, tears running down his face as he struggles to form coherent thoughts, lost in the haze of pleasure you’ve crafted for him. His body trembles beneath you, every thrust sending ripples of sensation coursing through him, igniting every nerve ending.

He shudders, the mix of shame and pleasure swirling within him, but there’s no denying the truth behind his moans—especially not after he’s been fucked like this. "I want more, I want-" His words dissolve into another sob, your relentless pace making it impossible to keep his thoughts straight.

"There we go, that’s the Rafayel I know. Always so needy, begging for more even after being broken." Each thrust of yours is deliberate and deep as you pick up the tempo, aiming for that sweet spot inside him that makes him see white. With every powerful slam of your hips, he feels himself unraveling all over again, drowning in a sea of bliss.

"M-Miss! A-Again, I'm gonna-!" he cries out, desperate for release yet still teetering on the edge. You can see his muscles tensing, his walls pulsing as he gets close again. 

"Good boy," you murmur, leaning down to capture his lips in a heated kiss, your tongue sweeping against his as your hips drive harder, faster. With one hand gripping his hip to steady him, your other hand wraps around his cock, stroking him in time with your thrusts.

"I want you to come for me one last time, Rafayel. Let go."

With that command, his body succumbs to the overwhelming pleasure. Complete and utter bliss crashes over him, his voice rising to a desperate pitch as he comes once more, thick ropes of cum spilling from him, slicking his stomach and chest. You feel his cock throb in your hand as you continue to stroke him through his release, coaxing every last drop from him, relishing the way he trembles and writhes beneath you, utterly lost in the moment. 

His cries echo in the room, a symphony of need and satisfaction, and you can’t help but smirk into his lips. You can feel his entire body quaking beneath you, the sheer intensity of his release leaving him breathless and utterly spent. His sobs mellow out as you slow down, letting him ride out the last remnants of his high and making sure he feels every last bit of it.

"You did so well, baby," you murmur, voice soft as you pull away from his lips—your dominant, commanding disposition now fades, only leaving behind a warm smile on your face as you kiss his forehead. The contrast of your touch, gentle on his trembling body, makes him shudder, and he’s so far gone that even your whisper feels like a balm against the ache. "I know it’s overwhelming. But you took it, didn’t you? All for me."

Your words are soft, your fingers gently threading through his hair and offering him a sanctuary to recover in. He whimpers quietly, his body still shaking from the aftershocks of his release, but he melts into your embrace, his breathing slow and steadying as you comfort him.

You hold him close, the warmth of your bodies grounding you both as the frantic rhythm fades, and all that’s left behind is the quiet hum of your breaths mingling, the steady rise and fall of your chests pressed together. The world outside feels distant, inconsequential—right now, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in each other, basking in the afterglow.

His eyes flutter shut at your actions, a mix of tears and pleasure glistening in his gaze, overwhelmed by everything he’s just experienced. As his breathing begins to slow, you lean in and place soft kisses along his neck, sending shivers down his spine, his body so sensitive that even your softest touch makes him gasp.

He’s lost in the sweet daze of exhaustion, and with a final soft sigh, his body relaxes beneath yours. The tension leaves his limbs in waves, his pulse slowly beginning to stabilize. You hold him close, the heat of his body against yours comforting, grounding, as everything slows down.

As you feel the last shivers of pleasure fade from his body, you press one final kiss to his temple before carefully shifting your weight. “Easy, baby,” you murmur, your voice low and soothing as you place a hand on his side. Slowly, you begin to pull out, mindful of his sensitivity.

The moment you do, Rafayel whimpers, his body shuddering at the loss of fullness. His thighs twitch, and his breath hitches as the overwhelming emptiness sets in. A soft gasp escapes his lips, and he instinctively clenches around nothing, his oversensitive body quivering with every move.

You soothe him with quiet murmurs, pressing soft kisses to his damp skin as you run your fingers through his damp hair. He barely reacts beyond a faint, contented sigh, his limbs loose and pliant in your hold. His exhaustion is evident, his body sinking deeper into the mattress, boneless and spent.

“Mine,” he mumbles sleepily, his fingers curling around your wrist, holding you in place.

You smile and press another lingering kiss to his forehead. “Yours,” you promise, your voices a quiet vow in the peaceful stillness of the room.

- - -

The soft sound of your breaths mingling drift throughout the bedroom, both of you settled in the quiet aftermath, where nothing exists but the closeness between you. You carefully pull Rafayel closer, your hand lingering on his skin for a moment as you reach out to gently brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "Did I…push you too far?"

Rafayel blinks up at you, still drowsy, his expression tender and vulnerable. He exhales slowly, his fingers lazily tracing idle patterns against your hip. “No,” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion.

You only chuckle in response, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I see." You shift closer, pulling the blanket over the both of you. "Then…." you continue with a teasing glint in your eye, "Why were you being such a brat earlier, huh? Calling me a pain in the ass?"

Rafayel shifts in your arms, his gaze avoiding yours as if debating whether to argue. His body tenses for just a moment, but then he exhales, shoulders slumping as he gives in. ".…I just wanted your attention," he mutters, pouting slightly. His admission is quiet and laced with embarrassment and sincerity. "I meant it when I said I missed you."

"Huh. Well, you definitely got it…" You start off, softening at his hesitation and press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Y'know, Raf, next time, you can just be nice. Then we can have slow, sweet make-up sex, and your ass won’t be the one suffering for it."

He groans and buries his face into your shoulder, inhaling your scent and muffling his voice. “No promises.”

You chuckle and raise an eyebrow, running a soothing hand down his back. “But I know your ass liked it, anyways.”

That causes him to huff indignantly, his grip on you tightening as you feel his lips pulling down into a deeper pout. He can’t deny it, however, and merely leaves a few tender bites on your neck in protest.

"Oh, come on," you tsk, amusement lacing your tone despite the feigned irritation. You smirk, tilting your head just enough to grant him better access. "Resorting to biting, now? Not exactly the best way to say you're upset."

Rafayel just grumbles against your skin, his warm breath sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "M'not upset," he admits, though his sulky tone says otherwise.

You hum, running your fingers lazily through his hair. "Mhm. So, what I'm hearing is...you loved every second of it, and you're just being a sore loser."

His head snaps out of your neck, his eyes narrowing at you. "I didn’t say anything,” he whines, looking a lot like a cat denied a treat.

You grin, poking at his cheek. "Didn't have to. Your body gave you away."

His groan is muffled once more as he flops onto your chest dramatically, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he settles closer, letting out a soft sigh as his fingers trace idle patterns on your skin. "You're insufferable."

"Says you," you counter, pressing another kiss to the top of his head.

Rafayel doesn’t argue this time, just grumbles something unintelligible against your chest, his fingers still lazily tracing patterns on your skin. The weight of him, the warmth he radiates, feels grounding—a stark contrast to the teasing moments before. Slowly, the playful energy between you begins to settle into something softer, something quieter. You feel the way his body melts against yours, his breathing evening out, the tension from earlier fading entirely.

As the quiet stretches between you, the world outside your little bubble feels obscure. There's only the sound of your breathing, the comfort of his body in your arms, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing you're both right where you need to be.

The first time Caleb sees your tummy bulge full of him, he stills. The nights he'd spent jerking off to the thought of you (with your panties pressed against his nose) pale in comparison to the real thing — his cock, lodged into your pussy, the outline of his tip just barely peeking through your skin. He can't take his eyes off it, transfixed by both the feel and look of you around him.

He stares for so long that you begin to feel impatient, whining softly and grinding your hips down. "Caleb..." Yet even that small movement from you has the bulge in your stomach shifting slightly, a choked moan leaving his lips at the sight. Though lost in the heat of the moment, the neediness in your tone does not escape him and he shakes himself out of his trance, his hand trailing up from your thigh to press on your stomach. "...Yeah, pips?"

When you glance down, you finally realize just why he was in such a daze. the tip of his cock barely visible beneath your skin drawing a surprised whimper from you. Your eyes flick between your best friend and the impression of him in you, the sigh utterly intoxicating. "Ca-Caleb...he's peeking out at me..."

That's all it takes for Caleb's honeyed tone to go darker, a raspy growl now evident in his tone. "Mhm. That's...me right there, pips." He thrusts shallowly at first, eyes flicking down, watching with fascination as his cock shifts beneath your skin, a  whimper catching in his throat at the sight. “Fuck, baby look that’s me- fuck- baby, I ah-!"

He loses himself in the warmth as his body presses against yours. Slowly, he begins to move, his rhythm building with each thrust. And he tries — he really tries to hold on.

But the sight of his cock pushing up against the soft skin of your belly has Caleb's mind unraveling like a cat clawing at a ball of yarn. Every slow thrust, every squeeze of your walls around him, makes the bulge in you shift. It's a visible, undeniable reminder that he’s buried so deep inside you there’s nowhere else for him to go.

His breath is ragged, each roll of his hips getting sloppier as the heat in his body quickly overwhelms him. His forehead stays pressed to yours, eyes half-lidded, glassy, and completely lost in you.

“Baby, I- You feel so fucking good.” His voice cracks into moans, wrecked and desperate, his fingers twitching against your waist as he fights to hold on.

Fuck, he's close. Too close. He's supposed to be in control. Supposed to pace himself. But the way your warmth engulfs him, how your tight little hole pulses and pulls him deeper, shatters any semblance of restraint.

You feel it too. The way he trembles above you, his body taut like a fraying wire. Every shaky exhale, every hitched breath, every needy little sound that slips past his lips, they all tell you how he’s on the edge. The knowledge that he's losing himself, falling apart because of you, sends heat flooding through your body.

Involuntarily, you clench around him, and his reaction is instant. A strangled, breathy “oh fuck-” chokes past him as his hips stutter against yours. You roll your hips in response, and Caleb fucking gasps for air at the sight of the bulge shifting beneath your skin, his grip on you tightening as if you were the only thing tethering him to reality.

The two of you were in the same sinking boat, breaths and moans mingling as the aching need for release quickly overtakes the both of you, the harsh thrusts and helpless moans spilling from Caleb's lips tightening that coil in your stomach. "Pl-Please Caleb-"

The strained breathlessness in your voice has him crumbling, his rhythm getting sloppier as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, voice thick with something fragile. "I know, baby, I know- Fuck, just-" His words get cut off you pulsate around him, the tight heat of you making his mind short-circuit. "S-So close- just give it to me, please please please-"

His hands move on instinct, an overwhelming ache leading one to over your stomach to press down and feel himself inside you. The moment the pressure registers on his cock, his mind blanks and so does he—wave after wave of cum pulsing into you as he shakes and whines, hips desperately meeting yours as he chases his high.

The shocks of his orgasm run through him, his mind blank and overwhelmed, nothing left but the feeling of you wrapped around him, milking him through his high. His lashes flutter, breath hitching as he shivers, everything is too hot, too good, too much.

The feeling of his hips stilling against yours and his cum flowing into you has your stomach tightening, the pleasure cresting fast, and then you're gone. Ecstasy slams into you with a force that has you crying out, your body going rigid as you spasm around him.

You're both left trembling, wide-eyed and flushed and locked onto each other's gazes as you process what just happened. Caleb then slumps against you, your bodies spent and trembling, his voice soft as he nuzzles back into your neck. "....Fuck. 'M sorry, baby."

His cock stays nestled deep, twitching with oversensitivity, trapped in you. He’s panting into your skin, and you reach out to push away the hair that had fallen into his face. "Don't be," you murmur softly, feeling your cheeks heat up at the sudden after-intimacy of the moment.

Caleb's voice was quiet, a layer of insecurity lying below the surface. "I didn't expect- I barely lasted-"

You soothe him with a soft hush, running your fingers through his hair and cupping the base of his neck. "That doesn't matter, baby. It was still perfect. You were perfect." You press a soft, lingering kiss to his temple, noticing how he's still slightly stiff and you run your hands down his spine, tracing slow, reassuring patterns on his back.

He shivers at the contact, looking up at you like a puppy seeking reassurance. Before he could say anything else, you tighten your grip, squeezing at his skin and pulling him closer. “You made me feel incredible. It doesn’t have to be some long, drawn-out thing. You know we’re both….new to this.”

“But I….” He huffs slightly, finally relaxing into your touch and letting it ground him. “You…You mean that, pipsqueak?” 

You smile, gently nudging your nose against his head. “‘Course I do. Besides, if you liked seeing me that full ‘f you, means we’ll have to go again.” Leaning in even closer, your warm breath ghosts over his ear. “You know you’re still hard in me, right?”

Caleb groans softly, shifting on top of you, his cock twitching against the walls of your cunt. His lips graze your skin, his breath hot and uneven. "Do you think- Do you think you can take another round?"

You adjust yourself slightly, just enough to tease him deeper into you. "I can take whatever you want to give me, you know that.”

“You horrible tease.” Despite his words, Caleb breaks out into a light snicker, fighting back the groan and the desire re-capturing his gut to have a few more moments of this sweetness. He finally pulls himself out of your neck, looking at you with that lovesick, dazed expression that’s always made your heart skip.