#ladscaleb

“I might have… run out… of self control.” 

“You earned it… do your worst– and don’t make me wait for it.” She mutters, gripping him tightly.

Caleb has been good for her. He held back, held still, begged as his pants grew tight and he started to ache for release. Let her tease him until he could hardly take it. 

By the time he gets off his shoes and pants, it's revealed how much Caleb’s wanted her. His black underwear is darkened where his obviously hard cock rests, wet and sticky in the front from his precum. The sight of it as he resumes position over her sends chills down MC's spine. 

Usually, when she and Caleb do anything, it's over their clothes. Dry humping, grinding, a hand through each other's pants…. This time, here's her in her skirt and bra and him in just his underwear. This is somehow uncharted territory for the two of them, despite how easy it feels. 

Caleb shakes above her as he kisses and bites her sloppily all over, hands moving everywhere they can, all over her body, as if he wants to mold her into an idol with his needy, calloused palms. She sings with little sighs and moans at every kiss, every touch, every lick and bite. She's trying to quiet herself down, but holding back only makes her noises more lewd when they escape her.

After several stretched out moments like this, suddenly, he pauses, his forehead pressed to hers, trembling.

“W-Why'dyous-stop?” The words are nearly whiny slurred nonsense out of MC's mouth, her voice breathy from anticipation and arousal. 

“I want… to try something, do you trust me?” He doesn't even look her in the eyes when he asks– they stay closed with yearning, his forehead on hers, breath hot in her face, her breath shuddering onto his.

“Yes,  Caleb,” she whispers, gently reaching to kiss his lips, “What do you want? I can give it to you.” She doesn't mean to sound so eager, but she is. 

He doesn't reply right away, he just stays suspended there before letting out a slow breath from his slightly parted lips.

He kisses down her neck and to her chest, catching her hard right nipple between his lips. She gasps, instinctively reaching to grasp and tangle her hands in his hair. 

“Does that feel good?” He asks, pausing his gentle suckling, his breath hot against her breast, hands on her waist. “Yes, so good…” She shudders in response,  impatiently giving his hair a tug, wordless asking for the sensation to return. He moves to the other, thinking that it's only fair that they both receive equal attention. He drinks in her sounds grinding his hips against her like he's in heat. 

With careful precision he kisses down her tummy until his mouth is soft at the hem of her skirt. He pulls it down to below her knees revealing her pretty blue panties, soaked. He lets out a small sound at the sight of it, the wet panties clinging to her pussy lips, the wetness soaking all the way through, her legs shaking, her eyes wide, chest heaving up and then down in an uneven rhythm.  

“Can I pleasure you, MC? I-I want to taste you.” He says it like he’s confessing to a sin only she could absolve,  his head down, forehead pressed to her knees so she can't see how red his face is from blushing. “I want to touch you, if you'd let me.”

MC is breathing heavily, her legs are up and they still shake despite how much she tries to make them stop. The dominant girl from earlier is gone, putty in his hands, shrunken by his gentle words. Caleb is not the only one who can beg. “Please, Caleb, do whatever you want to me,  I want it…” 

She sinks into the couch cushions, knees falling open. He groans, the sound lazy and guttural,  sliding his hands down either side of her legs before spreading them apart for better access. He presses three fingers to her soaked panties. The action is as careful and slow as it is deliberate. Her hips jolt at the contact. He exhales quickly with sharp, turned on surprise when he feels just how wet she really is.

She wants him. That much Caleb can feel.

“Fuck, you're so wet… you get this wet just from teasing me, pipsqueak?”

She did. How could she not? And then, when his hands and lips covered almost every inch of her, tasted her breasts… her panties were soaked through. 

“Does it turn you on knowing how hard I am?” His voice sounds like it's on the verge of tears or prayer, needy and wanton. “God, you’re so wet.” His voice cracks like he can barely handle it.

 “I… I can’t stop thinking about being inside you. Warm, soaked, squeezing me tight… fuck, I don’t know if I’d last.”

She nods with a small sound, the ability to form words leaving her. In all honesty, she wasn't expecting him like this, she wonders… 

‘Is this more than I bargained for?’

He kisses her tummy and inner thighs as he speaks, her shaking never lessening. Then with the waistband of her panties in between his teeth, he's pulling them down,  still careful not to tear them. They fall to the ankles of her lifted legs, then entirely, as he settles lower, between her thighs. 

Her legs drape over his shoulders instinctively, caging him in, and he's huffing like he's out of breath, his cock twitching at the sound of her whimpers. When his mouth sits in front of her bared pussy, her bush glistening with arousal,  he pauses, looking at her through his eye lashes. 

“May I?”

She moans,  low and needy. 

“Yes, Caleb… please…” Her voice is so whiny and hungry she doesn't recognize herself. She's already dripping, his hot breathed question making her clench.

“Tell me what to do if I'm doing this wrong,  okay?” Caleb has never eaten anyone out before, every first experience he could have he's preserved for her. 

‘If I can make her fall apart with just my mouth, maybe she’ll never leave...’

His thumbs spread her lips open, tenderly parting the soft hair to either side, before he licks her opening slowly and with a bit of pressure. She gasps at the feeling, and grips his hair harder than before. 

He moves with an almost studious amount of focus, staring up at MC's face, taking mental note of every sound, every contortion of her face,  every buck of her hips, every yank of his hair. Caleb's so hard it hurts, leaking against his underwear and the couch cushion with every one of her moans. He can’t believe how much he’s leaking—just from the taste of her, the sound of her.

‘How is this so good?’ 

Despite neither of them having done anything like this before, Caleb finds it feels natural to him. It’s not too different from the few times she's let him penetrate her with his fingers. All the spots are similar, she reacts the same, if not with more response. He’s kneeling between her legs, hunched down, hips grinding mindlessly into a nearby cushion, his own need half-forgotten in his devotion to her pleasure. He’s losing himself between her thighs, rutting into the pillow like it’s the only way to stay sane.

MC feels wild with the sensations. This is more pleasure than she's ever felt before. Her eyes are practically screwed shut, her head thrown to the side as all sorts of lewd sounds leave her – sounds she didn't even know she could make. The couch creaks beneath them, soft lamplight pooling across her bare thighs. 

He groans, the sound rumbling into her and she didn’t know he could sound like that. Didn’t know she could need this so badly.

She can't believe this is Caleb… All those nights reading smut and imaging him, red in the face, fingers desperate, pillows beneath her. She couldn't dare open her eyes looking at him, overstimulated, so so close to release with only one thing missing. A loud strangled gasp, bordering a cry,  escapes her throat, hips jerking up as she's nearly overstimulated by being held on the edge. 

Suddenly, she feels her hips pushed down not by his hands, but his evol, as Caleb's tongue and mouth search deeper for her pleasure. He's devouring her and holding her in place. She feels the gravity keeping her in place, and it drives her even closer. She can’t move, not because she didn’t want to, but because the air had thickened around her hips like invisible hands, pressing her into the cushions. 

‘Does he even realize he's doing it?’

He blinks, just once, and realizes the air is shimmering faintly around her hips, pinning her down. His evol acting on instinct. His lips don’t stop.

“Caleb…” She calls for him gently, not quite climactic but so very close. She just needs one more thing…

He comes up for air as MC moans and calls his name, his hot breath over her sloppy entrance, thumbs still spreading her open. She's so beautiful to him in this moment. Her bra is crooked, her hair is spilling around her head, the side of her face is red and covered in sweat. At some point she must have let go of his hair without him noticing, because her arms are up next to head, balled into fists, knuckles pale.

“Do you need me to stop, pretty girl?”

“No!” MC practically gasps out,  her head pivoting, eyes flying open. They make eye contact and neither of them have ever seen the other look at them quite like this. No fantasy had ever come close to how it felt to see him between her thighs. He couldn't have imagined how beautiful she'd look like this, the taste of her in his mouth.

They turn their heads away at the same time, blushing.

Her voice comes out raspy and clumsy, breathless. “Caleb… I-I'm close… if you use your fingers too… I could…”

She doesn't need to say another word.

“Look at me” Caleb asks, turning his head slightly, enough to meet her desperate eyes again. 

“Show me where,” he murmurs, and when she guides his hand, he follows without hesitation, fingers curling, tongue pressing with newfound rhythm. It’s clumsy in the way only something like this can be, both their hands shaking as she leads him with own warm fingers. When her hips jolt, her fists loosen, when she lets out a sound that’s closer to a sob than a moan–  that's how he knows he’s found it.

“Good girl," he breathes out the words before returning to his dedicated ministrations, hips grinding into the couch pillow beneath him like a dog in heat. 

She wants to say his name again, tell him he’s doing perfect, but all that comes out is a symphony of moans that sounds more like surrender. She clenches tight around his coaxing fingers, eyes flashing open to see his puppy-eyed gaze on her face. 

‘Oh god, I'm going to cum into his mouth…’ 

Her wild wide-eyed look shows how close she is. 

‘Fuck… she's so close…’

Caleb's mouth never stops, he's winding into the pillow as his tongue and fingers guide her through her orgasm. His fingers never stop curling deep inside her, stroking where she showed him, as her legs lock around his head.  Her toes are clenching. She sputters out curses blended with sweet sounds of pleasure and his name.  

The intensity of it drives Caleb to his own edge. MC doesn't even need to touch him for him to finish. He doesn't even mean to, doesn't realize he was so close. But her sounds, the heat of her legs around his head, it undoes him. His hips buck helplessly into the cushion, soaking the fabric.

All that's needed for him is her pleasure. He moans into her, shooting his seed into his underwear, the fingers of his free hand gripping her thigh so tight they might bruise. He gasps into her as he cums without permission from his own body, too lost in her to care. 

But somewhere in the back of his mind, shame flickers: ‘Did she notice? Will she care?’

They make eye contact as his climax piggybacks off of hers, her expression unreadable, his full of desperation and pleasure. 

The air is still heavy with her scent, with sweat, with everything unspoken. Neither of them moves for a moment. MC lies there, breathing heavily, as a breathless Caleb slowly removes his fingers from her, warm, shaking  and slick with her undoing. 

He comes up and props himself over her,  where they began. He's shy, blushing with heart and embarrassment as they look at each other. 

Her trembling hand rests a palm to the side of his face. He grabs her hand, nuzzling into her touch, before leaning down and kissing her softly. She tastes herself on him, deepening the kiss, holding his face in her hands. His shame melts away with the gentle way she holds him, and when they pull apart, she's the first to speak. 

“I didn't know you could make me feel like that, thank you.”

“I… didn’t mean to…” he admits quietly, unsure if it even matters now.

She just smiles, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “You deserved it, you did so well.”

He exhales relief. 

“Do you forgive me,  now?” He says smiling, half joking, half wondering. 

“Technically I forgave you as soon as you asked if I was upset.”

“Oh, I see. So all that was for nothing?” He smirks jokingly, cocking his head to the side, leaning back down and kissing her flushed face.

“Never nothing.”

But to you, Caleb is simply... Caleb. In the bustling halls of the palace, he addresses you with utmost formality, "Your Majesty," a deep rumble that vibrates through the very air. Yet, steal away to the secluded gardens, or the quiet sanctuary of your chambers, and the mask melts. Then, you are just "Princess" to him, a familiar, affectionate murmur that speaks volumes of a bond forged in shared childhood adventures and unwavering loyalty. What the court does not see, what they are oblivious to in their admiration of the imposing knight and the radiant princess, is the silent language that flows between you two, the glances that linger a fraction too long, the unspoken understanding that binds your souls. Caleb loves you. A love as silent and steadfast as the stars, a secret he guards more fiercely than he guards your life. And tonight, at this grand ball, even amidst the swirling gowns and forced smiles, you feel the weight of that unspoken truth, a silent hum in the air between you.

Part 1

The orchestra swells as you gracefully navigate the dance floor, a kaleidoscope of colors and polite smiles blurring around you. Lord Harrington, a Duke with more land than charm, attempts to steer you into a waltz, his eyes lingering a beat too long on your décolletage. You deflect his advances with a gentle laugh, a playful remark about needing to catch your breath. He is persistent, though, his hand lingering on your waist. Across the room, you feel Caleb's gaze like a physical touch, hot and unwavering. He stands by the wall, a silent guardian, his posture impeccable, yet you can sense the tension radiating from him. His eyes, dark pools in the flickering candlelight, never leave you, tracking your every movement, every interaction. You see the subtle clench of his jaw when the Duke's hand brushes your arm again, the almost imperceptible tightening of his grip on his goblet. Jealousy, a green-eyed serpent, coils around him, though his face remains an impassive mask.

Enough is enough. You excuse yourself from the Duke with a polite curtsy, his disappointment barely concealed behind a veneer of aristocratic charm. As you move away, your eyes find Caleb's again, a silent conversation passing between you. You approach him, your steps light, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Caleb," you say, your voice just loud enough to carry over the music, "Would you be so kind as to escort me back to my chambers? I suddenly feel rather... unwell."

His composure cracks instantly. Worry creases his brow, his eyes darkening with concern. "Your highness? Are you alright?" His formal address is automatic, but the underlying anxiety is genuine.

"Just a touch dizzy," you murmur, placing a delicate hand on your temple. "Perhaps the heat of the ballroom."

Without hesitation, he steps forward, his strong arm a steady presence at your elbow. "Of course, Your Highness. Let us go at once." As you walk, he is a pillar of support, his pace perfectly attuned to yours. You feel secure, protected within his orbit.

The corridor is quieter, the music fading to a distant hum. Caleb sheds his heavy cloak in one fluid motion, the rich fabric falling like dark water. Before you can protest, he gently drapes it around your shoulders, the warmth and scent of him enveloping you. "For warmth, Princess," he murmurs, the informal address slipping out in his concern.

You smile, a genuine, soft smile that reaches your eyes. "Thank you, Caleb." And then, you let your act deepen. You sway slightly, your head swimming just as planned. You let out a soft gasp, your knees threatening to buckle.

In an instant, Caleb is there, his arm scooping you up before you can even stumble. You find yourself cradled against his chest, strong arms holding you securely. You look up into his face, his eyes stormy with worry, the green serpent of jealousy forgotten in the face of your supposed distress.

"Princess!" he exclaims, his voice rough with alarm. He doesn't hesitate, lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry. Your arms instinctively loop around his neck, your breath catching at the sudden intimacy. He is so close, his warmth radiating through his tunic, the scent of leather and steel and him filling your senses.

"Summon a physician!" he commands, his voice echoing down the corridor. Maids scramble from the shadows, their eyes wide with concern, rushing to obey his order as he strides purposefully towards your chambers, you held securely in his arms.

Part 2

After a flurry of concerned maids and a rather flustered physician who declared you simply overheated and in need of rest (you managed a convincing pale face and a weak voice), you were tucked into your silken sheets. Caleb, ever the dutiful knight, stood guard just outside your chamber doors, a silent sentinel in the dimly lit hallway.

An hour passed, the palace settling into a quiet hush. You called softly, "Caleb?"

The door creaked open almost immediately, and he was there, his imposing figure filling the doorway. "Your Highness? Are you alright? Is there anything you need?" His voice was low, laced with worry.

"Come in, Caleb," you beckoned, gesturing to the chair beside your bed with a languid wave of your hand. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. He remained standing, stiff and formal, even in the intimacy of your chambers.

"Sit, Caleb," you insisted, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "You look like you're about to face down a dragon, not a slightly overheated princess."

He finally settled into the chair, though still perched on the edge, his gaze fixed on you, searching, concerned. "Are you truly feeling better, Princess?"

"Much better, thanks to your swift action," you said, your smile widening. "Though, perhaps carrying me bridal style was a tad... excessive?" You teased, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A rare blush crept up his neck, staining his cheeks a delightful shade of crimson. "I... I was concerned for your well-being, Your Majesty." He stammered slightly, the usually unflappable knight momentarily flustered.

You chuckled softly. "Relax, Caleb. I'm just teasing." You leaned forward slightly, your playful demeanor shifting to something softer, more intimate. "Tell me, did you truly think I was about to faint?"

He met your gaze, his eyes locking with yours. The formal façade melted away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that made your heart skip a beat. "I... I was terrified, Princess." His voice was barely a whisper, husky with emotion.

"Terrified?" you prompted gently, intrigued by this glimpse beneath his armor.

He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with such open emotion. "You are... precious, Princess. The thought of you being harmed..." He trailed off, unable to articulate the depth of his feelings.

Silence settled between you, thick with unspoken words, with years of suppressed emotions. You looked at him, really looked at him. The strong lines of his jaw, the slight scar above his brow, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead - all the familiar details suddenly sharpened, imbued with a new intensity. He looked back at you, his gaze no longer formal, no longer merely protective, but something deeper, something yearning, something that mirrored the ache in your own heart.

The air crackled, the unspoken tension reaching a fever pitch. You leaned forward, drawn to him as if by an invisible force. Your hand reached out, hesitantly, and rested on his arm, the warmth of his skin radiating through his tunic. His gaze dropped to your hand, then lifted back to meet yours, his eyes dark and questioning.

And then, without conscious thought, without hesitation, you leaned in further, closing the space between you. Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips met his.

The kiss was tentative at first, a soft brush of lips against lips, a question and an answer in a single touch. Then, as if a dam had broken, years of unspoken longing poured forth. His lips parted beneath yours, and you deepened the kiss, a soft sigh escaping your lips as his arms came around you, pulling you closer, closer, until there was no space left between you. The world outside your chamber faded away, leaving only the taste of him, the feel of his strong arms, the burning connection that had finally, irrevocably ignited.

Part 3

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding. Caleb's hand moved from your arm to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the angle. Your own hands moved to his shoulders, gripping his tunic, pulling him closer still. You felt the heat of his body against yours, the hard muscles beneath the fabric, the intoxicating scent of him filling your senses.

He broke the kiss, gasping for breath, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was ragged, his voice husky as he spoke, "Hah, Princess..."

Then, he shifted, moving closer still, until he was kneeling beside the bed, his body half-leaning over you. He braced his hands on either side of you, trapping you beneath him, his gaze burning into yours. "Princess," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion, "I... I can't... I've loved you for so long. I can't resist anymore."

He confessed it then, the secret he had guarded for years, the love that had been simmering beneath the surface of duty and formality. The words hung in the air between you, charged with unspoken desire, with years of longing.

And you, breathless and flushed from the kiss, your heart pounding a wild rhythm against your ribs, you looked up at him, at the raw vulnerability in his eyes, and you knew you couldn't deny it any longer. "Caleb," you whispered, your voice trembling, "I... I love you too."

Relief washed over his face, chasing away the tension, replaced by a radiant, almost disbelieving joy. He lowered his head again, his lips finding yours once more, this time with a fierce tenderness, a possessive urgency that made your senses reel.

This kiss was different, deeper, fueled by the open declaration of your shared love. He kissed you with a hunger that mirrored your own, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, then slipping inside, exploring the sweet depths of your mouth. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss, lost in the intoxicating sensation of being held, of being loved, of finally, finally being his.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and giddy, you both dissolved into laughter, light and airy, the release of pent-up emotions bubbling forth. You giggled, burying your face in his shoulder, the sound echoing softly in the quiet chamber. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that vibrated against you, holding you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

For a long moment, you simply lay there, intertwined, breathing each other in, the laughter fading into comfortable silence. Then, as the warmth of his body and the lingering dizziness from your earlier feigned illness began to catch up with you, a yawn escaped your lips.

He instantly tensed, pulling back slightly, his eyes filled with concern. "Princess, you are still unwell," he murmured, misunderstanding your exhaustion.

"No," you said softly, reaching out to cup his face, tracing the strong line of his jaw with your thumb. "I am... happy. And a little sleepy."

Understanding dawned in his eyes, softening his features. He smiled, a tender, loving smile that made your heart melt. "Rest, Princess," he whispered, kissing your forehead gently. "I will stay here."

He settled back beside you, his arm still around you, holding you close. You nestled against him, the warmth of his body a comforting presence. He could have taken you then, in that moment of raw desire and confessed love. But he didn't. He held you, gently, respectfully, his own desires held firmly in check because you were still, in his eyes, "unwell." And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew, with absolute certainty, that you had given your heart to a man who would cherish it, protect it, and love you with a fierceness that burned brighter than any crown.

Part 4

You awoke to the soft morning light filtering through the silken curtains, feeling gloriously rested and... different. A smile bloomed on your lips as you remembered the events of the previous night, the stolen kisses, the whispered confessions, the overwhelming feeling of being loved. You stretched languidly, feeling a lightness in your step, a joy that bubbled up from within.

The maids entered soon after, their usual morning routine taking on a new, almost celebratory air. They fussed over your bath, the scented oils swirling in the warm water, their gentle murmurs and knowing smiles hinting that perhaps they weren't as oblivious to the unspoken tensions between you and Caleb as you had thought.

Dressed in a light, flowing gown of pale rose silk, your hair cascading in soft waves around your shoulders, you felt radiant, vibrant. "Send word to Caleb," you instructed, a playful lilt to your voice. "Tell him I require his... presence."

A few moments later, he appeared at your chamber door, his expression a mixture of concern and anticipation. He stepped inside, his gaze immediately locking with yours. He was dressed in his usual tunic, his hair slightly tousled, his eyes still holding that smoldering intensity that made your heart flutter.

"Princess," he began, his voice low, his eyes scanning you, searching for any sign of lingering illness. "How are you feeling this morning?"

You smiled, a slow, radiant smile that lit up your face. "Much better, Caleb," you said, stepping towards him, your bare feet silent on the plush carpet. You reached out, taking his hands in yours, your fingers intertwining with his. "In fact, I feel... wonderful."

His gaze softened, a smile mirroring yours spreading across his face, chasing away the residual worry. He squeezed your hands gently, his thumb stroking your knuckles. "I am glad, Princess."

And then, he leaned in, his eyes dropping to your lips. He kissed you, softly at first, a gentle exploration, a reaffirmation of the night before. Then, as your own lips parted beneath his, the kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, more demanding.

You blushed, a delightful warmth spreading through your cheeks as you kissed him back, your hands moving to cup his face, drawing him closer. He tasted of morning, of warmth, of him. The kiss went on and on, a silent conversation of desire and unspoken promises.

He broke the kiss, breathless, his forehead resting against yours. "Princess," he murmured, his voice husky with need, "I...hah, last night, I held back because you were unwell. But now..." He trailed off, his eyes searching yours, a question unspoken but clear in his gaze.

You looked at him, at the raw desire in his eyes, the unspoken plea, and your own desire mirrored his. You knew what he was asking, and you wanted it, craved it, yearned for it with every fiber of your being.

You nodded, just a small, almost imperceptible nod, but it was enough.

A low groan escaped his lips, a sound of both relief and anticipation. "Mmh," He kissed you again, fiercely, passionately, his hands moving to cup your face, then sliding down your neck, tracing the delicate line of your collarbone, then lower, to the soft curve of your breasts beneath the silk of your gown.

He pulled back just slightly, his eyes burning into yours, his voice rough with need. "Princess, ah are you sure? Can I...?" He couldn't bring himself to say the words, but the question hung heavy in the air between you. Consent, respect, desire - all intertwined in his gaze.

You nodded again, more firmly this time, your eyes locking with his, your own desire mirroring his. You reached out, your hand tracing the strong line of his jaw, then pulling him closer, whispering against his lips, "Yes, Caleb. Please."

And then, all restraint shattered. He kissed you again, a kiss that was no longer tentative, no longer questioning, but a full-blown assault on your senses. He swept you up into his arms, carrying you to your bed, laying you down gently amidst the silken sheets.

He shed his tunic quickly, his movements urgent, his eyes never leaving yours. He was magnificent, all sculpted muscle and raw masculinity, the warrior stripped bare, vulnerable and powerful all at once. He knelt beside you, his gaze worshipping, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the ties of your gown.

The silk whispered as it slid down your body, revealing you to his gaze. He drew in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening with desire, with awe. "You are... beautiful, Princess," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion.

And then, he was upon you, his body pressing against yours, the heat of him igniting a fire within you. He kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue plunging into your mouth, mimicking the act to come. His hands moved over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin, igniting sparks with every touch.

You moaned softly as his lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hand slid between your legs, finding the sensitive nub between your thighs, and you gasped, arching against his touch.

"Caleb...ah," you moaned, your voice breathless, your body arching with need.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a fierce possessiveness, a burning desire that mirrored your own. "Yes, Princess?" he murmured, his voice rough against your ear.

"Please," you whispered, your hips lifting instinctively towards his hand.

He needed no further encouragement. His fingers worked their magic, driving you wild with pleasure, until you were writhing beneath him, begging for release. And then, finally, he shifted, positioning himself between your legs, his gaze locking with yours.

"Are you ready, Princess?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Yes," you breathed, your eyes wide with anticipation, with desire, with love. "Yes, Caleb, please."

He entered you then, slowly at first, stretching you, filling you, until he was buried deep within you. You gasped, a sharp intake of breath as pleasure and a slight sting collided. He paused, waiting for you to adjust, his eyes searching yours, filled with concern.

"A-are you alright?" he murmured, his voice low.

You nodded, your breath catching, the initial discomfort giving way to a burgeoning pleasure. "Yes," you whispered, "Mh, Don't stop."

And he didn't. He began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing rhythm and intensity. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure rippling through you, building, intensifying, until you were lost in a sea of sensation. You moaned his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your body arching up to meet his every thrust.

"Princess... ah, ahh..." he groaned, his voice ragged, his body slick with sweat. He moved faster, harder, driving you both higher and higher towards the precipice. The world narrowed to just the two of you, the feel of his body inside yours, the rhythm of your movements, the gasps and moans that filled the chamber.

And then, the world exploded. A wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washed over you, consuming you, shattering you into a million pieces and then putting you back together again, stronger, brighter, more alive than ever before. You cried out, your body convulsing around him as you reached your peak.

"Hahh," Caleb followed close behind, his own release a raw, guttural sound as he thrust into you one last time, burying himself deep, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight heavy, his breath ragged against your neck. You held him close, your arms wrapped tightly around him, your bodies slick with sweat, intertwined, inseparable.

After a long, breathless moment, he shifted, rolling to his side, pulling you with him, holding you nestled against his chest. He kissed your forehead, his touch tender, loving. "Princess," he murmured, his voice soft, "Thats amaizing,"

You smiled, a sleepy, contented smile, burying your face in his chest. "So are you, Caleb," you whispered back, your voice husky with sated desire.

He held you close, stroking your hair, kissing your forehead again and again. "I love you," he murmured, the words soft, heartfelt, a promise whispered in the quiet intimacy of your chamber. "More than life itself."

And you looked up at him, your eyes shining with love, your heart overflowing with happiness. "I love you too, Caleb," you whispered back, and you knew, in that moment, that your life, and your love story, had only just begun.

- The End -🌚💋💦