If taboo, why delicious? And here is a shortfic.
Caleb was careful about what he called you in bed.
There were many names he liked to use: love, baby, princess. He called you everything but your childhood nickname—anything that didn't allude to the taboo of your relationship.
But it was there, always on the tip of his tongue.
It was something he constantly had to bite back when he lost himself in you.
And of course, like with everything, you followed his lead.
“Caleb, Caleb, Caleb,” you would say. You would gasp, moan into the sheets, yell his name over and over.
Caleb.
Because calling him what you wanted, what you’ve called him all your life, was a line you were both scared to cross.
But Caleb was just a man, pitiable and soft in the face of lust.
You were straddling his lap on your bed, his arms locked around your waist. He guided you up and down on his length.
Your head was thrown back. His was buried in your chest, nipping, biting, kissing any inch of skin that he could. The white noise of the fan drowned out by the frantic sounds of your passion.
It slipped out.
“Meimei, my baby sister.” His words cut through whimpers.
You couldn't help the way you reacted, how you clenched tight around him or how his words lit a fire between your legs. You answered the only way you knew how, burying your face in his neck, you cried—
“Gege."
And Caleb, who has always known control and always been mindful of your limits, lost it.
Like a man possessed, one of his hands moved to your shoulder, and how he slammed you down onto himself could only be described as desperation.
It was the forbidden fruit that Caleb has yearned for his entire life.
“Say it again. Say my name.”
"Caleb," you tried to say, but he cut you off.
“Not that. No.”
He punished you by pushing in deeper, faster, matching your drops with an upward thrust.
“Ge—” you could barely speak. He was robbing the air from your lungs and choking the words out of your mouth. There was no kindness in how he moved, only desire and hunger. You could almost feel him in your throat.
“Meimei, my meimei," Caleb chanted over and over again as his breath grew ragged and his rhythm began to falter. Fragments of his mantra flooded out between groans.
“My meimei.”
Depravity mixed with love and adoration. You felt the world tilt.
You shut your eyes when you came and your rationale shattered alongside you. He kept moving—taking, using—chasing his own release.
It didn't take long for him to follow, but he asked for one thing before he let himself go.
He asked you to say it again, to call him by that name that carried every line you've ever crossed, that signified breaking every boundary he's ever tried to build with you.
“Gege.”
It was barely a whisper, broken and muffled against his skin, but he heard it. And it was enough.
Your stomach filled with a warmth that you could only describe as his.
"Fuck."
It wasn't often you got to hear Caleb curse.
Between ragged breaths and sweaty skin, you melted into each other as the afterglow set in.
“I love you, ge.”
And he replied the only way he knew how—with a breathy chuckle and a kiss on your forehead.
“I love you more, meimei.”
