#caleb fic

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

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

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

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

and today, he was coming home....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that was caleb!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

then, a low huff of a laugh escaped him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah, sure. no problem,” 

wait, what?

gideon was leaving? 

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

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

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

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

a subtle tug pulled at the crown of your head.

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

your eyes flew open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

he looked like a man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then, that's where it happened.

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

the car went starkly silent. 

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

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

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

oh. okay.

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

”that's nice. good luck with that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you go ahead.”

—

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

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

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

the house was strangely quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ouch!” 

”clumsy idiot.” you muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“let’s test that theory.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but you had vastly underestimated your gege.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“make me.”

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

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

you swallowed hard.

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

caleb blinked. 

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

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

“hold it in.”

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

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

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

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

but that was when you were kids. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“nevermind.” 

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

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

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

—

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

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

nothing.

not even a rusty trickle. 

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

ugh, caleb.

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

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

there was only one alternative.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

woah.

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

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

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

“yeah, because of you.” 

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

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

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

how annoying. 

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

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

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

it was going alright now, thankfully. 

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

and then—splat!

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

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

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

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

splat!

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

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

“serves you right.”

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

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

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

you lifted your chin, “yup, i am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sure, anything for my pipsqueak.”

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

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

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

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

“what did you say?” 

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

the iron handle came to a sudden dead stop.

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

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

almost... shameful?

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

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

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

fuck.

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

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

“there... is no nursing student,” 

you paused. “huh?”

“i-i made her up,” caleb admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

he stopped himself mid-sentence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

there it was, laid out in the open.

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

but then—shreek!

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

that must be granny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

in a wet sarong. without a proper bath.

fuck's sake.

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

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

knock. knock.

“you in there?“

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

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

“uh, yeah?“ 

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

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

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

“come help me, please?”

—

the bathroom felt smaller than it ever had before. 

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

neither of you spoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yes, i'm still going.”

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

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

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

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

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

the space was incredibly cramped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“uh, turn the valve. let's see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

thud.

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

“don't.”

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

“don't go.”

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

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

caleb hesitates, but he takes a deep breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

am i attractive to you?

your lips parted, but no sound came out. 

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

“you're an idiot, caleb.” 

“that's not an answer, pips.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“hmgh—!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ah—”

shit, this is such an intimate position!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“she won't,” he muttered against your skin, his thumb digging firmly into your hip bone, locking you flush against him so there wasn't a single millimeter of space left between your bodies. he took a deep breath, his chest expanding hard against yours as he forced his movements to become agonizingly slow. “i’ll be quiet. just stay. please... you’re right here, you’re finally right here...”

“i'm here,” you whispered breathlessly into his ear. “i'm right here.”

your skin was beginning to sting where it pressed against his. the agonizingly slow tilts of his hips couldn't stay slow for long.

without either of you consciously deciding it, the grinding turned into a drag of weight against weight—a quiet breathless dryhumping that sent waves of heat pooling directly between your thighs.

the fabric of your loose shorts and his heavy denim rubbed together with a soft, repetitive whisper—it was the only continuous sound in the small space besides the ragged, broken cadence of your breaths. caleb’s hands were no longer just holding you; they were practically anchoring you to him. his long fingers buried into the flesh of your bum, pulling your pelvis down hard against his with every upward surge of his thighs.

“caleb—”

the name was clipped neatly from your tongue as he hitched his hips higher, a muffled whimper escaping your throat. you slapped a hand over your own mouth, your eyes widening in sheer panic as you stared at the bathroom door. the reminder of granny sleeping just down the hall felt like a wire wrapped tight around your throat.

caleb caught your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from your lips only to replace it with his own shoulder. “bite me,” he choked out a whisper. “bite the shirt. don't... don't make a sound.”

you didn't hesitate. you buried your face into the soft black cotton of his shoulder, your teeth sinking into the fabric as caleb let out a shuddering gasp.

he was a complete mess. 

nothing more than a boy who looked thoroughly undone by your weight in his lap. a dark crimson blush had crawled all the way up his neck, blooming across his sharp cheekbones and turning the tips of his ears a burning pink. his long eyelashes were damp, fluttering rapidly as he kept his eyes squeezed shut.

every time your weight humped against his hard bulge, a whine would catch in his throat, a sound he desperately swallowed by burying his face into your hair.

you began to move with him, your hips rolling in a frantic rhythm that matched his pace, chasing the tight, coil of pleasure that was tightening in your stomach. this makes his fingers dig brutally into your hip bones.

“wait—hey, wait,” he wheezed, his hips stuttering against yours as he tried to find his bearings. he was trembling beneath you, the muscles in his thighs and arms locked so tight they were vibrating. he opened his eyes, irises completely blown out, to look up at you. “you're... if you move like that... i won't be able to stay quiet.”

“then don't move,” you breathed against his neck, unable to stop humping him like a starving bunny.

“i can't,” he whispered back, a tear of sheer overstimulation tracing down his flushed temple. a soft, helpless whimper broke from his chest as his hips instinctively arched upward again, completely disregarding his own warning. he ground his lower body against yours in three quick, desperate, and torturously deep strokes, his head falling back against the porcelain tank as he fought a losing battle to keep his ragged groans silent inside.

“how about...” you panted, “how about we do this standing up? would that... would that make less noise?“

caleb's movements immediately stopped, his breath hitching sharply in his throat at the suggestion. he didn't answer with words; his large hands just tightened around your waist, and with a low grunt of exertion, he stood up, lifting you effortlessly off his lap before setting your feet firmly back onto the cool tile floor.

before your knees could buckle from the sudden rush of cold air, caleb's heavy palms guided you forward. you found yourself bending over the bathroom sink, your upper body lowering until your forearms were pressed flat against the cool, smooth porcelain basin...

right in front of the wide mirror.

seconds later, the towering weight of caleb’s chest loomed against your back. he adjusted his stance, his long legs spreading slightly to frame yours, and then he crowded back into you. the thick ridge of his arousal aligned perfectly with your ass from behind, pressing hard against your thin cotton shorts.

he started moving again, but this angle... this angle was entirely different. 

it was so much more exposing, so much more intense, because when you look up, your blurred vision collided directly with your reflection in the mirror.

you could see everything. you could see your own flushed breathless face, your lips swollen and wet from his kisses. and right behind you, caleb was a mess. his dark hair was thoroughly mussed, cheeks and neck burning with a furious blush.

with every thrust from him, the force of his hips sent a jolt of heat straight to your throbbing thing, making your hands slick against the porcelain as you gripped the edges of the sink for dear life.

“hngh...! caleb—”

“shh—you have to keep quiet,” caleb scrambled to scold you, but he sounded completely panicked, his breathing so loud and ragged it was a miracle granny couldn't hear it from outside. “gran's room is... it's literally right beside this. if you make a sound, i'm gonna—we're gonna get caught.”

even while trying to play the protective guide, his eyes shifted downward in the reflection. staring at your bent-down position, watching the way your body curved beneath his and how perfectly you took every push of his thighs, was enough to send caleb entirely over the edge. he went visibly harder against you, his long fingers trembling violently where they were clamped over your hip bones.

“god, shit—” caleb choked out, his forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder blade, his chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. his rhythm turned a little clumsy, a little too eager, his hips grinding up against you with an uncoordinated, desperate hunger that made your mind spin. “i... i don't even know what i'm doing. i almost... i can't believe this is real. you're actually here. you're really letting me do this.”

“caleb, you're moving too fast,” you whimpered, your fingers slipping on the wet porcelain as he gave another firm, deep roll of his pelvis that made your thighs shake.

“i'm sorry, i'm sorry,” pressing a line of apologetic kisses along your shoulder blade, he consciously tried to slow himself down, his large hands squeezing your hips to steady the rhythm, though the intense blush on his face only deepened until his ears were practically purple. “is this better? like this?”

“yeah... yeah..”

suddenly, caleb’s hands moved from your hips, his long fingers sliding beneath the hem of your shorts.

“hey,” he choked out. “i can't... i'm not staying behind these clothes anymore. i need to feel you.”

with a frantic uncoordinated rush of movement that was entirely fueled by a lack of control, he pulled your shorts and underwear down to your knees, managing to free himself from his gym shorts at the exact same time. 

the sudden sensation of his bare, burning skin pressing against your uncovered backside made you gasp. “w-wait, caleb, what are y—”

he didn't wait. caleb guided the tip of his manhood to your entrance and pushed forward. with a slow, agonizingly thick surge, he slid completely inside of you.

the size of him filled you so entirely it took your breath away. your fingers clawed at the slick porcelain of the sink, your head dropping as a high broken whimper left your lips. caleb let out a long trembling groan against your shoulder, his chest heaving violently as he buried himself to the hilt. 

“fuck, fuck!”

”be quiet, caleb...”

“s-sorry, fuck.” a lazy smirk tugged at his lips in the reflection, his hands tightening on your waist. “see? i told you nobody else could fit you like this. you're shaking.”

he buries his head into your hole much, much deeper. “did you miss me this much?”

the teasing sting of his words, even now, made a surge of stubborn retaliation flare up in your chest. you didn't want him to see how completely undone you were. pulling your hands off the sink, you tried to straighten your spine and pull yourself forward, attempting to slide off his dick to break his rhythm.

it was the wrong move.

the sudden threat of losing you made caleb snap completely. his large hands locked around your hips like iron cuffs, yanked you violently backward, and thrusted into you with a force that was so deep and heavy it made your vision go entirely white.

“don't run from me,” caleb gave another hard, bruising thrust that almost hit your womb, pinning you ruthlessly against the porcelain. his upper body slammed against your back, his face completely flushed a dark, furious crimson as he forced your head up. “look at yourself in the mirror. look at what you're doing to me. look at how much of me is inside you right now.”

you couldn't even form words to respond. you were completely paralyzed by how big, how thick, and how utterly unrelenting he felt stretching you open from the inside. all you could do was grip the edges of the sink for dear life, your knuckles turning white as your body struggled to take his bare thighs slapping against yours.

yet, for all his dominant holding, caleb was a complete, crying mess.

every single time he shoved his hips forward, a pathetic little moan escaped his throat—sounds he tried so desperately to bite back, burying his face in your wet hair or chewing on his own bottom lip until it bled, utterly terrified of waking granny up outside. 

“fuck, please,” caleb whimpered against your neck, penetrating you over and over again with each stroke making you cry out into your hand. he was trembling so hard the vibration traveled straight into your body. “can we... can we do this every day? just until i leave again? please. tell me you'll let me do this to you every single day?”

you couldn't even answer him. you were too occupied, and quite literally occupied, by the way he's pounding against your ass. 

he was driving into you, his pelvis slamming against your backside with a wet and heavy sound. it was too much. the fullness of him stretching you open was overwhelming, and as he bottomed out completely inside you for the third time in a row, the careful restraint in your throat shattered.

“aaangh~!”

before the sound could even fade, caleb's palm snapped upward to clamp firmly over your mouth. his long fingers wrapped tightly around your jaw, crushing your lips against your teeth and effectively smothering your next desperate gasp into a muffled whimper against his skin.

“i told you to stay quiet,” but even as he scolded you, his lower body didn't slow down for a single second. if anything, your loud reaction only drove him deeper into the edge, his hips pumping into you even faster. “you're gonna wake her up. do you want gran to walk in here and see you like this? see what a bad girl you're being f'me?”

you were completely pathetic beneath him now. you couldn't breathe properly, you couldn't scream, and you couldn't pull away. all you could do was let out small broken whines against his palms, your tears wetting his fingers as your hips shook uncontrollably under the force of his penetration. you were nothing but a trembling, weeping toy for him to use.

“shit... oh god, shit, look at you,” 

followed by a groan, his entire body went rigid as he reached his breaking point. needing to get even deeper, to consume every remaining inch of you before he spilled, he reached down with his other hand and hooked it beneath your thigh. with one effortless pull, he lifted your leg up to force you to balance precariously on one foot while your knee was pinned up against his waist. “fuck, i'm so close,”

the new, devastatingly wide angle opened you up completely. it only allowed him to bury his entire length into you with a series of shoving that made your head snap back.

“don't make a sound,” caleb choked out, his voice cracking into a crying whisper while he began to hammer into you with his hand pressing harder against your mouth. “keep it in. take all of me right now. just take it.”

the final push of his hips sent your mind spiraling into absolute oblivion, your body tightening around his thickness in a series of violent, helpless spasms that milked him completely. caleb let out a sharp gasp against the crown of your head, his entire muscular frame going stiff as iron against your back. he knew he was at the absolute point of no return. even through the blinding fog of his climax, that ingrained discipline and the terrifying reality of the consequences cut through his thoughts.

with a sudden, desperate grunt of exertion, caleb grabbed your hip bone with bruising force and violently pulled himself out of you.

the abrupt sensation of emptiness made a choked sob rise in your throat, but before you could even register the loss, caleb’s release hit you. he came in heavy thick spurts across your backside and the small of your lower back.

“oh, god—oh fuck, i'm coming, i'm coming,” caleb cried out, his voice completely fracturing into a loud mess. he couldn't even keep himself quiet anymore. “fuck, i love you, i love you so much. look at what you did to your caleb.” 

a crying whimper escaped his lips as the final waves of his orgasm racked his large body. his hand finally slid off your face, fingers trembling as he let go of your jaw, leaving your lips swollen and burning. instead, he dropped both of his heavy palms onto the curves of your hips. “look at this fucking mess...”

meanwhile, your upper body remained slumped over the cool porcelain of the sink. your fingers were weakly splayed against the slick basin, completely devoid of any remaining strength. your knees were wobbling so much beneath your weight that the only thing keeping you from collapsing onto the tiled floor was the unyielding grip of caleb's hands on your waist. 

slowly, caleb’s heavy breathing began to level out, turning into shallow, ragged pants against the nape of your neck. he opened his eyes, staring down at the reflection in the wide glass mirror.

he could only stare at the mess in absolute awe. the sight of you bent over the sink, your shorts pushed down to your knees, your skin flushed a beautiful crimson and glistening with his thick, white fluids, looked like something straight out of the sinful dreams he had hoarded in his concrete barracks. it didn't feel real. the fact that he had actually touched you, filled you, and marked you like this inside his grandmother’s house made his heart thump.

with a sigh, caleb leaned his entire weight forward, completely hugging you from behind. his broad chest pressed firmly against your back while his large arms wrapped securely around your waist to support your sagging frame. he buried his face into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as if he were trying to memorize it all over again.

“pipsqueak,” he whispered, his voice incredibly rough, gravelly. ”hey... look at me. are you okay? did i hurt you?”

you let out a small whimper, your head shifting weakly against his shoulder as you managed to nod. “yes... i'm okay.”

caleb let out a breathy chuckle, and he tilted his head to press a soft kiss against your burning cheek. “do you think we woke gran up?” 

you swallowed the dryness in your throat as you stared blankly at the porcelain basin. “i... i don't know, caleb. you were really loud at the end.”

caleb hummed, a lazy, satisfied sound as his thumbs lightly stroked the sensitive skin of your hip bones, soothing the small red marks his fingers had left behind. 

“well... if she's awake, she's probably just gonna think i'm clumsy and dropped the wrench again,” he murmured into your hair, his grip tightening just a fraction, pulling you closer into his warmth. “come on. let's get you cleaned up. i'll wash you down, and then... i'll cook you that braised pork you love right now. the one with the sweet soy sauce and the star anise. how would that sound, pips?”

“that sounds great, gege.”

caleb gulped at the nickname. “it's been a while since you used that on me,” his face breaks into a smile, and then he leans down to look at you in the eye instead of through the mirror. “what if you use that while we do it again tonight?”

And you try. You really do.

You try to relax, but Caleb's tongue is circling your clit, slow and deliberate, tracing the shape of you like he's painting, like he's got all night and he's determined to use every second. His hair is soft against your inner thighs, tickling the sensitive skin, his breath is hot and uneven, and when he moans against you the vibration of it shoots through your clit and for a moment you you feel the sound in all the way up in your teeth.

"That's it," Valko murmurs when you let out something akin to a sob and a moan all mixed into one pathetic little sound, and his voice is softer now, almost reverent, his lips brushing your hair. "That's my girl. Taking it so well. Let him have you."

You're faintly aware of how Valko grinds against you everytime Caleb dips down to slurp at your juices.

Caleb pulls back just enough to breathe, and his chin is slick, glossy in the dim light, his lips parted and reddened. He looks up at you, meets your eyes, and grins, a dark shadow glazing over his eyes, something that makes you feel like prey. "She's dripping," he says, and his voice is shot, wrecked, barely a whisper as he makes a show of his eyes locking with Valko's behind you, licking his lips. "Everywhere. Valko, she's—"

"I know." Valko's hand slides from your hip to your stomach, splaying flat, feeling the way you clench. "I can feel her." He presses a kiss to the corner of your jaw, soft, almost gentle. "She's so responsive, isn't she? Gets so wet when we both look at her."

Caleb doesn't answer — he looks so fucked out already that you don't think he can — he just dives back in, and this time he's faster, greedier, his tongue fucking into you while his thumb presses against your clit, circling, pressing, finding that rhythm that has your toes curling and your back arching against Valko's chest. The more you try to run from the zinging pleasure of Caleb's mouth the harder Valko pushes you right into it.

"Please—" you gasp, and your voice is broken, barely coherent and more pathetic than you've ever heard it sound, "—please, I can't—"

"Yes, you can." Valko's voice is flat, calm, like he's telling you the weather. "You can take it. You're going to cum on his tongue like the good girl you are, and then I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name. That's what you wanted, isn't it?" His claws drag down your hip, leaving pale lines that bloom pink. "That's why you're here, pup."

And when you come, hard, fast and shaking, with Caleb's name in your mouth — when you finally break, your whole body shaking and your vision goes white with pleasure —Caleb doesn't stop. He drinks you, his tongue relentless, his hands gripping your thighs so hard you know there will be bruises to discover the next morning, and Valko is right there, murmuring against your ear.

"Atta girl. That's it. That's my perfect girl."

You slump helplessly against him, your body still humming with embers of pleasure Valko decides tips your chin up, forcing you to look at Caleb and his current state... dark eyed and soaked from his nose to his chin in your juices that he makes a show of licking up, his grin sharpening when he sees Valko stiffening behind you.

"We're not done with you yet. You know that, right?" Valko murmurs, dragging his tongue against the side of your neck, collecting a bead of sweat that had pooled at your collarbone. His one hand slides up to embrace the side of your jaw, tilting your head forward. "Why don't you give your boyfriend a nice big kiss, hm? Have a taste."

Caleb's jaw twitches.

Valko smiles. "Then it's my turn."

"fuck, sit on my face. need to taste that sweet pussy."

"oh no. . . no no no. you can't run from the colonel. . . i'm not done with you yet."

"yeah? want me to fill you up? beg for it. beg for my cock."

"yeaaah. . . i know baby, caleb's such a meanie. shh it's okay, i got you."

"wait— too much pips. . . fuuck you're milking me dry."

"fuuck you're so hot."

"c'mon. . . lay over my knees now. keep count. if you stop, punishment's starting over from the beginning."

"one more. . . you can do one more for me, right? that's my sweet girl."

"hands to yourself. . . brats don't get to touch."

"so good. . . fuck i feel like i'm melting."

"you're taking it so well. good job, baby."

"on your knees."

"hmm, not a single thought behind those eyes, huh? my pretty baby's drunk on my cock."

"haah, yeah your hand feels good. fuck squeeze it a lil tighter. . . yeaaah like that."

"giving up already? you were the one who said you wanted to be on top this time. . . alright, alright. just lay back, lemme do the work."

"y'r tits are so cute. . . you'll let me make a mess on em, right?"

"woah woah, easy on the biting pips."

"haah, wish i could keep you tied up here with me . . . forever."

"you like it when i rub the tip against your puffy folds, doncha?"

"my sweet girl. you're so perfect."

"aww, poor baby. it hurts? c'mere, let me hold you."

Sure, it’s only been a year since he left for college. But somehow, Caleb comes home taller, broader, with a sharp jaw and deep voice that makes your stomach twist.

“Whatcha starin’ at, pipsqueak?” he teases. “Forget what your big brother looks like?”

He reaches for your head—an old reflex, the kind he used to do without thinking. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the usual palm to your scalp, the rough tousle that always left your hair a mess.

But it never comes.

His hand stills mid-air, lingering by your temple. His fingers brush down the side of your face, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. But they don’t leave. Instead, they hover there—just for a second too long—knuckles grazing your cheek like he forgot what he was doing halfway through.

“You’ve… grown up,” he says, low. Like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Your breath catches. You force a small laugh, trying to shake it off. “Yeah, well. Happens when you abandon me for a whole year.”

He huffs out a smile, but his eyes don’t leave yours. He’s still standing too close, still looking at you like he’s trying to solve something he doesn’t want to admit is a problem.

“You look different,” he says. You can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

You swallow. “So do you.”

He doesn’t answer that. Just lets the silence stretch between you until he eventually steps back and clears his throat.

“I should go unpack.”

And you nod like your heart isn’t racing, like you don’t still feel the ghost of his fingers on your skin.

Later that night, you’re curled beneath your sheets, phone light dimmed, still scrolling through nothing when a soft knock sounds at your door.

“Hey,” Caleb’s voice comes through quietly. “You still up?”

“Yeah,” your heart jumps as you toss your phone aside. “Come in.”

He opens the door, hair damp from a late shower, shirt clinging just slightly at his collarbone. You try not to notice how strong he looks in your doorway, how the deep V of his lower abs is exposed each time he runs a hand through his hair.

“I just wanted to say goodnight,” he says, leaning against the frame. “Didn’t want you thinking I forgot.”

You smile, suddenly shy. “Thanks.”

He steps closer, bracing a hand against your wooden headboard, leaning over you just slightly. He was so close could smell his shampoo, feel the heat of him near your skin.

“Y’know,” he murmurs, eyes flickering over your face. “You used to throw a fit if I forgot to kiss you goodnight.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m not little anymore.”

“No,” he says, his voice quieter now. “You’re not.”

Something changes in the air, but you don’t say anything. Neither does he.

Not when he kneels beside your bed. Not when his thumb sweeps the corner of your mouth. Not when he leans in close—closer than he should—and lets his lips press to your forehead, slow and warm.

It should’ve been harmless. It used to be. But he presses another kiss, lower, this time against your cheek. You feel the breath hitch in his chest, and you wonder if he feels yours. And when his lips hover over your mouth, you forget how to breathe entirely.

But he stops. Pulls back.

“You should get to sleep,” he says, like it’s nothing. But his voice is frayed, like he’s holding something back.

You nod, curled under your blanket, the heat of his goodnight kiss still tingling on your cheek.

He lingers in your doorway, but he doesn’t quite leave.

“You’re not gonna walk me out?” he asks after a beat, half-teasing. “You used to always lock the door behind me.”

It’s true. You used to be afraid of a lot of things, and locking your door at night made you feel more at ease. But that was years ago.

“I know,” you say, shrugging into your blanket. “Guess I’m not scared anymore.”

“You sure?” he asks, voice low.

You nod. “I trust you to keep me safe now.”

His gaze drags over you—your bare legs, the way your comforter is pulled up only halfway. He swallows.

"I always have,” he says before stepping out. But this time, it sounds like a promise. Or a warning.

And when he closes your door, he doesn’t shut it all the way.

—

You didn’t lock the door.

Caleb knows because he waited. After that kiss, after your voice, so quiet and sweet— I trust you. He stood in the hallway for a long time. Listening. Wondering if you’d get up. If you’d change your mind.

But you didn’t.

You don’t hear the door creak open a few hours later. Don’t see the way he stands in the doorway for too long, just watching you. You’re turned away, breathing slowly, body slack with sleep.

At least, that’s what he thinks.

Your heartbeat isn’t slow. Not anymore. You know he’s there. You don’t know why he’s there, but you don’t dare to move.

He sits beside you on the mattress, careful and quiet. Too quiet, you think. You feel his fingertips brush against your outer thigh, where your shorts had started to ride up your legs.

“You shouldn’t sleep like this,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. Like he’s angry with you for letting him see.

His voice is hoarse, rough in a way you hadn’t heard from him before. You think maybe he’ll pull away.

He doesn’t.

His hand slides under the covers, palm finding your knee. He grazes the inside of your thigh with the back of his fingers, your skin so soft there. So warm.

“You’re not scared anymore, hm?” he says. “Maybe you should be.”

He knows he shouldn’t want this. His hand moves higher anyway, up under your sleep shorts, until his fingers meet the cotton hem of your panties. Damp already. He exhales like it knocks the breath out of him.

“Shit,” he whispers. “You’re already soaked.”

He presses down, just a little. Just to feel. Just to see how you’d respond. You shift under his touch, a tiny whimper escaping your lips. Not pain, not fear, just…need.

He thinks you’re still asleep.

That makes it worse. Better. He doesn’t know anymore.

“You trust me, don’t you? You trust me to keep you safe, and…and this is what I do?”

The pad of one finger drags up the center of your panties. Once. Twice. You try not to move, but you can’t help but arch into his touch. He drags his finger again, slower this time, and watches you twitch.

“Look at you,” he breathes, almost in awe. “So sensitive.”

He hooks a finger under the thin fabric of your underwear and drags it to the side, for a moment just staring at you in awe. Like he’s not sure if he should keep going. Like this is something he dreamed about and now it’s real and he might die from it.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re unreal.”

His hand starts to tremble. He moves his finger again, slow and tentative, like he’s testing the edge of a fantasy.

“This,” he mutters, dragging two fingers through your slit, “—fuck. This is why you lock your fucking door.”

He keeps moving up and down, gliding through the mess he’s made of you. His breath stutters with every touch.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he whispers between strokes. “How many times I’ve had to stop myself.”

He tests your entrance, his free hand palming his cock over his sweatpants.

“How many times I had to sit across from you on the couch, pretending I didn’t want this. That I wasn’t imagining how you’d feel…” He finally presses inside, brushing against a spot that makes you clench around his finger. “…ah…right here.”

His jaw tenses. You feel the tension in his whole body, the way he’s shaking from how hard he’s holding himself back.

“Pretending I didn’t notice how you’d squirm when I stood too close. How you’d look away when I caught you staring.”

He strokes you again, this time with more pressure. His thumb brushes just beneath your clit—an accident or a test, you can’t tell. He curses under his breath when your hips jump.

“You don’t even know what you’ve been doing to me,” he mutters. “And if you did…you wouldn’t have left the door unlocked.”

He gently pulls out of you, and the withdrawal is enough to make you gasp. Just the softest sound. Barely even a breath.

But it undoes him.

His body goes rigid, like he’s been punched. His hand pulls back so fast, you’d think you burned him. He stares at you—like he’s looking at something he wants more than anything, and knows he’s not allowed to keep.

“God,” he says, low and broken. “What the hell am I doing?”

His fingers curl into fists, like he’s trying to erase the feeling of you. Like he knows he never will.

“I shouldn’t have…” He trails off, shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Then he turns, walking out without another word.

And this time, you hear the lock click behind him.

—

You didn’t move when you heard the door open the next night, holding your breath when you feel the mattress dip under Caleb’s weight.

You’d left the blanket low on your hips when you tucked yourself in. Wore your smallest tank top, your softest underwear. An invitation in all but words.

You weren’t sure if he’d come to see you again that night. But, God, you’d hoped he would.

“I told myself it was just a mistake,” he murmurs. “That I’d touched you by accident. That I stopped before it went too far.”

His hand finds your calf beneath the sheets, thumb brushing circles into your skin like he’s afraid to wake you.

“But then I tasted you.”

Your stomach flips.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispers. “It was still on my fingers. I just… I couldn’t help it.”

His hand trails higher, settling on the curve of your waist. He kisses the inside of your knee, and your chest hurts from holding back a sound.

“I’ve never done that before. Not with anyone. I never wanted to,” he murmurs. His fingers slide to your hips, finding the band of your underwear. “I told myself it would only ever be you.”

He kisses higher.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he whispers. “How you started wearing less around the house. How you left your door unlocked?”

He starts to tug your panties down gently, like he’s giving you time to stop him. But you don’t.

“You didn’t say it. But you knew what it would do to me, didn’t you?”

You didn’t know, not really. You’d hoped he’d look at you if your skirts were shorter, hoped he’d notice your new perfume. But you never imagined it would break him. That pretending to sleep would make him finally tell the truth.

You didn’t know what it would do to you, either. Because now you’re soaked, shaking, desperately waiting for what comes next. And you don’t think you can go back.

“I told myself I’d wait until you were older. Until you were ready. Until I could look you in the eye and ask.”

Your panties reach your knees. Then your ankles. Then the floor. You feel his breath hot on your thigh, his mouth brushing higher up your legs.

“But you’re already giving it to me, aren’t you? Mmm… just like this.”

He kisses your hipbone, your inner thigh, your stomach.

“I jerked off with you still on my hand, you know,” he says softly. “Didn’t even wash it off, just fucked my fist thinking about how warm you were. How wet. For me.”

You squeezed your thighs together at his confession, already wet at the thought of your brother tasting you, touching himself because of what you did to him.

“…Still asleep?” he murmurs, almost like he’s asking himself.

He waits.

You don’t answer. You don’t move. You let him believe it. Because you want this. Want him. Want him so far gone he needs an excuse to fall apart.

He groans roughly as he leans in, breath hot and ragged against your core.

“Then don’t wake up,” he whispers.

You let him part your thighs farther and finally, finally taste you. Slow licks at first, then longer. Deeper. He parts you open, groaning into you like he’s the one being undone.

He makes a sound, deep and guttural, like it physically hurts to feel you this way.

Then he pulls back, just enough to look at you. To see you.

“This,” he pants, eyes wild, “this is what you’ve been keeping from me?”

His voice breaks like he’s spiraling.

“You don’t know what this does to me,” he says, dragging his tongue through you again. “You don’t know what I’d do to keep it.”

He doesn't stop. Doesn’t pause , doesn’t breathe , just stays buried between your thighs like you’re oxygen.

“I used to imagine what you’d sound like,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over your slit with each word. “What you’d feel like. How soft you’d be here. For me.”

He pushes in. Just one finger, careful, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he goes too fast. But you don’t. You clamp down around him so hard he shudders, and his breath hitches against your skin.

“God,” he breathes. “You’re—fuck, you’re perfect.”

His lips press back to you with long licks, like he’s trying to taste everything he’s ever missed. He spreads you open with his tongue, hands gripping your thighs so hard you think you’ll bruise.

“I’d give you anything,” he whispers. “Everything. Just… just let me stay here. Just let me taste you.”

Your breath falters, but he doesn’t even notice—he’s too far gone, bucking his hips into the mattress, moaning softly into your cunt like he’s starving.

“Can’t believe you’d let me,” he murmurs between strokes. “I’d die for this. You don’t even know—fuck, I’d die.”

And when your body starts to tremble, when your thighs tighten around his head, when he feels your slick pulse against his fingers—

“You’re coming,” he breathes like it’s a sin. “You’re actually—fuck, I can feel it.”

He keeps licking you through it, past it, like he doesn’t care if you beg or speak or even wake up.

Because he’s already ruined.

Because there’s no version of his life after this where he gets to pretend it didn’t happen. No version where he stops wanting. Needing.

“God,” he breathes. “I think I’m in love with you.”

You curl your fingers into fists beneath the covers, digging your nails into your palms—anything to keep still. Anything to keep yourself from reaching for him. To keep from sobbing. To keep from whispering it back.

He presses one last kiss to your thigh, breathes you in like he’s trying to memorize your scent. Then he finally pulls away, chest heaving, eyes glazed over with something between worship and shame.

“I’ll be better tomorrow,” he swears as he leaves.

But not before grabbing your pink panties from the floor, folding them neatly, and slipping them into his pocket.

—

Tonight, you’re curled on your side. You don’t even bother with a blanket. It’s not like you were cold, anyway.

Caleb didn’t wish you goodnight.

You’d spent the past few hours staring at the ceiling, listening carefully for the click of the front door, for the hum of a car engine in your driveway. Just something, anything, to tell you that Caleb had come home.

He had said he was meeting up with some friends tonight. Said they wouldn’t be out too late. But you knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth—not when he pulled on that jacket. The worn leather one he only wore on nights that mattered. Nights he didn’t want you to see.

And when he looked you in the eye and said you weren’t allowed to come along, you didn’t argue. But you watched the way he lingered at the door, like he wanted you to stop him.

You didn’t, even when seeing him leave made your heart ache.

You must have drifted off at some point. Because when you hear footsteps outside of your room, you jolt awake. The door doesn’t open, but you know he’s there. You can feel him watching. Waiting. Wanting.

And on the other side of your door, Caleb stands in the hallway with his jacket still on, hand braced against your doorframe.

He told himself he wouldn’t come here again, not after last time. Not after what he said. What he did. But he can’t stop thinking about you. The way you looked when he left, wearing that tiny fucking tank top he hates.

No—not hates. He hates what it does to him. He hates how you crawl into bed like that with no blanket and expect him to stay away. He wonders if you’re asleep now, if you left the door unlocked again.

His hand finds the knob.

He tells himself he’s just checking on you. That it’s fine. That you like when he checks. That it doesn’t mean anything if you never wake up.

The knob turns easily. You left it open. Again.

His eyes find you immediately, face half-buried in the pillow, bare legs tangled in the sheets like you wanted to make it easier for him. Like you were inviting him.

He can see the curve of your ass under the hem of your shirt—his shirt, he realizes. The thin black one, worn soft from too many washes, now sliding off your shoulder.

His throat goes tight, hand flexing at his side.

He should leave. Just check on you and leave.

But instead, he breathes your name—quiet and raw and unsure. And when you don’t answer, he steps closer.

He kneels beside you, fingers resting at the hem of your shirt. Just resting. But he’s breathing hard now, like it’s taking everything in him not to slip them higher.

“I tried to forget you tonight,” he says, words soft and laced with whiskey. “Tried to stop thinking about you for five fucking minutes.”

He huffs out a low, bitter laugh.

“Didn’t work.”

He sways, his hand tightening in the sheets.

“They smiled at me. Other girls,” he adds. “One of them touched my arm.”

He laughs again, but your stomach twists at the thought of it.

“And all I could think was—you wouldn’t like that.”

You almost smiled at the thought of it. He was right.

He shifts closer, his fingers brushing your bare thigh.

“You’d give me that look. The one that says don’t touch what’s mine.”

He exhales hard.

“I didn’t want any of them. I was hard the whole night with your fucking panties in my pocket.”

Your heart lurches. You didn’t realize he had taken them last night.

“They were still damp. I kept reaching for them like a goddamn addict.”

His hand slips under the shirt you stole from him, fingers grazing your stomach.

“You don’t even have to ask me not to look at anyone else,” he breathes shakily. “You already have everything. All of me.”

His hand leaves your skin, leaving you cold at the sudden absence. You listen to the rustle of denim. The sound of his belt unbuckling. The low sigh he lets out when he peels his jacket off, then his shirt.

He’s stripping down slowly, like he’s trying not to wake you—but also like he needs this. Like he’s been holding it in for too long and can’t take it anymore.

When he’s down to just his underwear, he hesitates. But it’s only a second before he lifts the blanket and crawls into bed behind you.

His bare chest presses warm and strong against your spine, his boxers doing little to hide the heat of him against your backside.

“You always smell like me when you wear this,” he murmurs against your shoulder, bare from where his oversized shirt slipped down your arm.

He breathes you in again, slow and deep, like he can’t get enough of it. Like he’s been starving for this and didn’t even realize how bad.

“I wish I could take you out,” he admits, breath hot on your ear. “So I could pull you into my lap. Press up against you. Make you grind on me while everyone watches.”

He shifts behind you, his hips pressing closer. You can feel the way he’s aching, the full weight of him throbbing against you now.

“But I can’t do that, can I?” he says through gritted teeth. “Because I’m not supposed to want you. Can’t even touch you like this unless you’re asleep.”

His mouth finds your shoulder again and kisses it. Bites it—just barely.

“You make me wanna fuck up everything.”

You feel him adjust himself behind you, the soft fabric of his boxers being pushed down just enough.

His cock presses up between your thighs from behind, hot and heavy against your bare thighs.

He groans like it hurts.

“Let me,” he breathes. “Just let me pretend.”

He grinds once, slow and shallow, just the head of his cock sliding against your entrance. Not in , not yet. But God, he’s close. You don’t stop him.

You’re soaked. He feels it, and chokes on a moan.

“You’re wet,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking wet.”

His hand clenches on your waist.

“Are you dreaming about me too, baby?”

His cock slides against you again, this time slower.

“Fuck, you’d let me do this?” he whispers. “You’d let me use your body like this? Just—just for a second—”

He grinds once more, more pressure this time. His tip catches on your clit and he gasps. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard you taste blood, fighting everything in you to keep still.

“Sometimes I think about taking you away,” he confesses, barely above a whisper. “Somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one knows us. I’d lock the doors and keep you all to myself.”

He presses against you harder. Just the tip. Just enough to make both of you shake.

“You wouldn’t need anything but me. I’d take care of you. Feed you, fuck you, make you forget anyone else ever existed.”

His cock twitches, and everything in you tightens, begging to be filled by him.

“Isn’t that what you want?” he breathes. “To be mine?”

You want to scream yes. You want to beg him to keep going. You want him to stop pretending. But you don’t move. You let him grind against you. You let him pretend a little longer.

“I tried to be good. I tried to just be what you needed.” His mouth presses against your throat, tongue licking your pulse. “But I never stopped hoping you’d need me like this.”

He thrusts between your thighs again, a little faster. He’s not aiming for anything. Just relief. Just friction. Just you. And he’s right there—so close to slipping in, to crossing that final line he swore he wouldn’t.

“I wasn’t supposed to love you like this,” he groans, grinding against you like he’ll die if he stops. “But now I don’t think I could ever love anyone any other way.”

You don’t move. Not when his hips slow, not when his breath hitches against the back of your neck. Not even when he tears himself away from your body with a curse, like it hurts him to do it.

You feel the mattress shift as he pulls back, one hand lingering on your waist like he’s not ready to lose that contact. He places a kiss on the crown of your head.

“Tomorrow,” he whispers, like a promise. “Tomorrow I’ll be good.”

—

Caleb was good the next day.

His eyes didn’t linger on your legs for too long at breakfast. He didn’t rub your shoulders when you looked tired at the dinner table. And he certainly didn’t kiss you goodnight.

And that was the problem.

Because you didn’t want him to be good. You wanted the version of him that slipped into your bed like a secret and touched you like he’d die without it.

So when midnight came and your door stayed closed, you got up.

The house was quiet. His light was off. He didn’t keep his door locked. Of course he didn’t.

You found him lying there in his bed, face so peaceful in his sleep, the blanket slipped low on his waist. He’s in his boxers and nothing else. And he’s hard.

So hard.

You shouldn’t look. Shouldn’t let your eyes linger on the shape of him under the thin fabric, the way the outline strains just enough to show you everything. The way the tip is already damp with precome, staining through.

But you do. And your thighs press together involuntarily.

You tell yourself it’s just curiosity as you climb onto the bed beside him. Just a little closer.

He doesn’t stir.

So you sit on your knees, hover over his hips. And when he still doesn’t move, you reach.

Just two fingers. Just to touch. To trace the edge of that wet spot and—

He groans.

His hips buck up into your hand, slow and sleepy like he’s still dreaming. Like he wants it, even in sleep.

“Mmm—fuck…” he murmurs, not quite conscious. “Don’t stop…”

Your hand stills.

You shouldn’t.

You absolutely shouldn’t.

But—

“So warm,” he breathes. “So soft… always wanted… you…”

Your core throbs.

You want to hear what else he says in dreams. You want to see how far he’ll go.

And God help you, you want to take him there.

“Just wanna feel you. Just once. Just a little—please—” he mumbles.

One hand slides between you, wraps gently around the base of him. He twitches in your grasp, lets out a low, broken moan—your name barely audible on his lips.

“You’re supposed to be good,” he slurs, voice heavy with sleep. “I’m supposed to protect you from this. From me.”

Your hand trembles as you push your panties to the side, hesitating for only a breath before you sink down—just enough to feel the heat of him, the stretch that makes your breath catch. Just enough to lose your mind.

“God, yes, that’s it,” he whispers. “Let me have this. Let me have you…”

You sink a little deeper. Then deeper. Until you’re fully seated on him, trembling from how good it feels. How wrong it feels. How much you don’t want to stop, either.

“You’re letting me—” He gasps. “You’re letting me .”

You bite your lip, hard. Because it’s too much. It’s not enough. And the worst part?

He was still holding back.

Even now. Even inside you, he’s shaking with restraint. Like he’s terrified that if he moves, you’ll disappear.

So you do the only thing you can.

You rock your hips.

“Oh my fucking—”

And that’s it.

His hand grips your hips, mouth pressing against your neck as he thrusts just once, impossibly deep.

“—Fuck. You feel so real.”

You ride him slow, deep, your walls fluttering around him.

“I dream about this every night. You never stay,” he pants. “You leave right before I get there.”

You kiss his neck. His jaw. His chest.

He shakes.

“Always leave me aching. So fucking close. Never—never get to finish,” his voice breaks. “Never get to stay inside.”

Your body clenches at that.

He notices. He stills, just for a second.

Before you can react, his hands are on your waist, flipping you effortlessly onto your back.

“I’m not letting you leave this time,” he growls. “But you want me to lose it, don’t you?”

He thrusts back in, deeper this time, rougher. You gasp, and he smiles.

“That’s it,” he pants, fucking into you with a force that makes the headboard knock. “That’s what I’ve been wanting to hear.”

His hand wraps around your throat—barely there, just enough to own you.

“Wanna keep you like this forever, tied to my bed. My pretty little girl.”

He presses his forehead against yours, losing rhythm.

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you? You’d take it? Let me fuck you full?”

His hips start to stutter up into you, shallow and desperate. His hands roam, frantic—over your waist, your thighs, your ass, like he’s trying to feel everything before he loses it.

“Mine,” he murmurs. “You’d be mine.”

He fucks you like it’s instinct, like he wants to stay inside so long you forget anyone else ever existed.

“You always were,” he whispers, mouth against your neck. “In every dream. In every fucking life. You were mine.”

You shouldn’t say it. You know you shouldn’t.

But your body’s trembling and he’s buried so deep inside you and he sounds so sincere, like he needs this more than air—and God help you, you need it too.

So you whisper it.

“Caleb,” you breathe. “I’m yours.”

Just once. Just for tonight.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “You never say that. Never let me hear it. Not even in my dreams.”

He thrusts deeper. Holds you like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t.

“Say it again,” he begs, desperate. “Please, please—just one more time.”

You bite your lip, shake your head. But your hips lift, chasing him.

Your voice is barely a whisper.

“I’m yours.”

He comes with a cry, mouth on your throat, arms locked around you so tightly it almost hurts.

“Mine,” he repeats, softer now. “Mine, mine, mine…”

Like he’s still half-dreaming. Like he doesn’t realize you’re real beneath him, trembling and aching and filled with him.

His thrusts slow to nothing. Just the faint tremble of him buried deep inside you, the quiet warmth of his breath on your skin.

“I always wake up,” he whispers. “Right before this part. Right before you say it back.”

You freeze.

“I say what?” you whisper.

But he doesn’t answer. He’s already drifting. Already pressing a kiss to your cheek like he’s done it a hundred times in dreams you never knew about.

You slip out before sunrise, slow and careful, peeling his heavy arm from your waist, untangling your legs from his. You’re still sore where he held you down, where he gasped your name like a prayer and begged to stay inside.

He’ll wake up thinking it was a dream, and you’ll let him. Because if Caleb knew it was real, you don’t think he’d ever forgive himself.