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Your best friend Caleb picks you up drunk (CalebXReader)

**NSFW WARNING**

Everything was hazy.

One shot

Two shots

Three shots

You had lost count after four. The alcohol warmed your skin more than the pulsing bodies inside the packed club could. The room was lit in flashes of blue and then red light. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.

You stumbled out of the club, tugging at your short black dress as it rode higher up your thighs. The air was biting; the chill sent a shiver up your spine.

You unlocked your phone, and the music inside was a distant thump against your eardrum. You scrolled through your contacts until you landed on his name. With shivering thumbs, you press call and press the phone to your ear, your legs bouncing to try to warm you. The phone rings, once, twice.

"Pipsqueak?" Caleb's voice comes through the device, warm and welcoming.

"Hi," You giggle, hiccuping, "Caleb, I think I drank too much." You pout to yourself, hoping he can hear the need for a lift home in your voice.

"How much have you had to drink, Pipsqueak?" His voice tried and failed to disguise the concern through a breathless laugh.

"Emmm...too much?" You reply, words slurring just a fraction.

He sighs softly over the phone. "Stay where you are, I'll be there in fifteen minutes." The line went dead.

You walk over to the curb, feet settling on the side of the road, arms tucked under your legs to hold your dress down, and you wait. You can't tell if time is going by quickly or slowly. As you sit there, humming away to yourself, a shadow falls over your form. With furrowed brows, you look up from your feet and meet the gaze of a man clearly more intoxicated than yourself. "Hey, sweetheart." He drawls, crouching down beside you. "Aren't you cold out here all alone?"

You shake your head, "I'm fine, I just-" The air shifts. Heavy, and the man staggers back, an invisible force pushing him back away from you. Gravity. You turn to look behind you, eyes wide when they land on Caleb standing there, dressed in his flight jacket. His eyes were colder than you've seen them, harsh and unforgiving. The man stumbled as he tried to stand, clearly knowing better than to try anything else. He bolts, disappearing back inside the club.

Caleb's eyes immediately turn to you, and he's at your side in a heartbeat. "Hey, Pips," he whispers, pulling his jacket to wrap it around your shoulders. "You'll catch a cold like this. Cmon, let's get you home." Before you could utter a response, he slid his lean arm under your legs and around your lower back, hauling you up into his arms like you weighed nothing. You rest your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart a familiar comfort. Caleb carried you to his car, buckled you in to the passenger seat and closed the door. He climbed into the driver's side, started the engine with a quiet rumble and set off home.

"I'm taking you to my apartment, Pips, no arguments. I'll be able to take care of you there. Make sure you sober up properly."

You lean your forehead against the cool glass of the window. "Caleb...are you mad at me?" You mumble quietly.

His hands gripped the leather of the steering wheel harder. "Never." Is all he said.

You nod and close your eyes, the darkness behind your lids spinning. "That guy was weird." You mumble, and he laughs softly.

"Weird doesn't even begin to cover it, Pips." His voice was lower than usual. "Men like that are predators. They see someone alone and think they're entitled to whatever they want. It's disgusting." He shifted gears with more force than necessary, the car accelerating smoothly into the night. Caleb wanted to wrap you up and hide you from the world, from anyone who might dare look at you with anything less than reverence. But he'd never tell you that.

The car finally came to a stop in the underground car park of his apartment building. He turned off the engine and turned to face you, the faint glow of the dashboard light casting his features in shadow. His eyes were dark, intense and searching your face for any lingering sign of distress. He unbuckled himself and leaned across the console, invading your space. His familiar scent, an oaky scent, hit you. Sandalwood and something uniquely him.

"Look at me, Y/N," he murmured, his voice softening with that familiar, affectionate tone. His fingers came up to gently cup your jaw, his thumb stroking the soft skin just beneath your eye. "You're safe now. I've got you, and I'm not leaving you tonight. Not after that." His thumb traced the line of your bottom lip, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver straight through you. It wasn't a question or a request, but a simple statement of fact.

"Hmmm," you mumble, eyes heavy, "You're so warm." You whisper, eyes fluttering beneath your lids.

His thumb stilled against your lip, the soft, half-conscious sound you made causing a deep and possessive ache to bloom inside his chest. He watched the flutter of your lids and your fight to stay awake, a battle you were clearly losing. Knowing he was your safe harbour was the only thing soothing his earlier anger. A low sound rumbles in his throat, a mix of contentment and something darker, territorial. "That's the point, pipsqueak. I'm always gonna keep you warm." His other hand came up, fingers combing through the strands of your hair that had fallen across your cheek, tucking them behind your ear with a reverence that felt almost holy. Caleb's gaze dropped to your lips, still parted softly from your last word. The urge to close the inches between you was a physical force, a magnetic pull he had to fight to resist. Now wasn't the time. You were drunk and exhausted.

"Alright, sleepyhead. Let's get you upstairs and into bed. You're about to pass out." His tone was light, teasing, but the decision was made.

Before you could realise, Caleb was out of the car and opening your door. He unbuckled your seatbelt and scooped you up effortlessly. You murmur a faint protest, something about walking, and he just chuckled, cradling you against his chest. "Shhh, I've got you pipsqueak. We're almost there." He kicked the car door shut with his foot and started toward the entrance of his building, holding onto you like precious cargo.

In between consciousness, you hear an elevator ding, a door unlock and close again, then you feel a softness at your back. Caleb lay you down on his bed as if you were made of glass, the mattress dipping under your combined weight. Before he could pull away, your hands weakly clutched at the front of his shirt, holding him in place, "Don't go." Your voice was a faint, sleepy plea. Caleb's heart clenched. He gently pried your fingers loose, his touch lingering on your hands before he moved to pull the duvet up over you.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here." He leaned down, his lips brushing your forehead in a kiss that was both a promise and a brand. "I'll be on the couch. Just sleep, Pips." He stayed there for a long moment, watching you, before quietly straightening up and leaving the room.

Some time passes before you wake again, through bleary eyes, you check the time on your phone.

4.42 am

It's still dark outside, the only light coming from the soft glow of the city beneath Caleb's apartment. You roll out of bed, still dressed in your dress. You patter across the wooden floors, the hardness cool under your feet, and open up his dresser. You drag out one of his old t-shirts and strip out of your dress, pulling that on instead. You make your way into the ensuite bathroom next, your eyes widening when you take in your dishevelled appearance. Mascara smudged, foundation blotchy and lips smeared. You pull your hair back, lather up the face wash and spend longer than you care to admit washing away any remnant of the night.

The only toothbrush there is Caleb's. He'll surely forgive you for using it.

When you finally finish in the bathroom, feeling significantly fresher, you find the glass of water on the bedside locker. You down it without taking a breath, your dry throat welcoming the cooling water.

You breathe deeply and feel a shudder run through you. It's cold. You walk across the floor and out into the sitting room, where you find Caleb asleep on the sofa. One arm resting lazily over his eyes, a blanket pulled up over his torso. Slowly, you approach him. "Caleb?" You whisper, but he doesn't wake. You reach out hesitantly, your fingertips barely brushing his shoulder, "Caleb..."

The moment your skin touches his, Caleb is awake. Not groggily, not slowly, but instantly. When his gaze landed on you, any hardness in his expression melted away, replaced by a familiar warmth. He'd know your shape, your scent anywhere. He pushed himself up onto one elbow, the blanket pooling around his waist.

"Hey, Pipsqueak. You're awake." His voice was low, gravelly and rough with sleep, but steady. It made something inside your stomach flutter. "Did you have a nightmare?" He took in your form, wrapped up in his t-shirt, and a small smile tugged on his lips. "Thief." He said teasingly. He sat up fully, swinging his legs over the side of the sofa so his bare feet hit the cold floor. It was freezing.

He opened his arms, "Come here. You're shivering...heating must've gone off." Without waiting for your response, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into his arms, wrapping them around your torso. His body was a furnace against the apartment's chill. "Go back to bed...I'll get the heating sorted."

You shake your head, looking down at his face, where it's resting against your stomach. "Come with me," You murmur, a gentle whisper. "I don't need the heating...just you."

His body went rigid at your words. A jolt running through him that had nothing to do with the cold. It was a plea, soft and raw, and it struck something deep inside him. He felt your hands resting on his shoulders, and the logic in his brain, the part that had self-righteously relegated him to the couch, short-circuited. All that was left was the primal, overwhelming need to answer your call. To be the heat you so desperately needed. his arms tightened around you with a different kind of intent. Possessive.

"You think I want to be out here while you're in there alone? I only slept out here because I thought it was the right thing to do." He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his eyes darker and burning with an intensity that the dim light couldn't hide.

He didn't say another word. Didn't need to. He stood and swept you off your feet, once again. You let out a small, surprised squeak, your arms automatically circling his neck. "There. Problem solved. Now the heater is mobile." his attempt at a joke was thin, barely masking the raw emotion churning beneath the surface. He held you tight against his chest and carried you back toward the sanctuary of his bedroom.

Caleb didn't bother with the lights. He crossed the room and gently set you down on the bed, following you down. He pulled the thick duvet over both of you, creating an instant pocket of shared warmth. He immediately turned on his side to face you, propping his head up on his hand. You rolled onto your stomach, head turned on the pillow to meet his gaze. In the near darkness, he could just make out the soft curve of your cheek, the flutter of your lashes. His other hand came up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your skin.

You stare at each other for a moment, the bed's quiet intimacy feeling sacred.

"Caleb?" You say softly

"Hm?" He hums, eyes locked onto your face. Tracking every inch of it.

"Can you scratch my back for me? It helps me sleep. Especially after such a long night of drinking."

A low chuckle rumbled deep in Caleb's chest, the sound a physical vibration against your ear.

Your sleepy, demanding murmur was music to him. He loved this side of you, soft and unguarded. His hand, which had been resting between you both, moved to the small of your back. He traced lazy circles there, his nails scraping over the thin cotton of his t-shirt. The shudder that went through you was his reward. He started at the base of your spine, working his way up with a slow, deliberate pressure that was just short of torturous.

"Oh, you think you deserve it, Pips, do you? After a hard night of drinking, I had to come rescue you from?" He teased, his voice a low thrum of amusement. He shifted, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you, your legs tangled under the duvet. "I think the hero of the story deserves a little something too, don't you? Maybe some breakfast in bed, for services rendered." He brought his hand up, threading his fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck, his thumb massaging through sensitive skin there.

He continued the steady, satisfying scratch, moving back down to your shoulder blades. You groan softly, eyes flutter closed, and his own darkens, the playful light giving way to something else. "Is this what you wanted, Pipsqueak? Tell me where you want it...I'll do anything you want." The words were a low promise, his gaze locked on your face. He wanted you to ask. Wanted you to need something from him. Anything.

Caleb leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke, his breath warm and ghosting across your skin. "I'll take care of you. Always. You just have to let me." It wasn't a question. It was a statement of intent. He moved the soothing motion of his hand lower, knuckles pressing into the dip of your lower back, right above the curve of your ass.

"Mmmm," You mumble, a soft, breathy sound. You feel the slick wetness between your legs growing with every touch. At the feeling of his breath against your skin. "Lower, Caleb." You whisper.

The soft command was like a spark to dry tinder. The sound of your groan, combined with the simple, direct order, sent a possessive thrill straight through him and to the straining hardness beneath the duvet. His hand immediately obeyed, sliding down from the small of your back to the high, curved swell of your ass, his fingers pressing firmly on the bare skin there. The hem of his t shirt riding up as he kneads the soft flesh. He deliberately dragged his nails across the sensitive skin there, a satisfied smirk on his lips when your skin breaks out in goosebumps.

"Is this where you wanted it, Pips?" His voice was a low, guttural rap, laced with a dark desire.

"Lower." You whisper, voice weak and hazy with lust.

Caleb's eyes closed for a moment as he attempted to compose himself. This was truly happening.

"Fuck, Pipsqueak," He growled the name. He shifted his hand lower, sliding down the valley of your ass and between your legs. His fingers pressed the dampness through the thin cotton of your panties, and he groaned. "You want me to touch you here? Like this?" He didn't pull the fabric down or aside yet. Instead, pressing his knuckles in and circling.

"Yes," You gasp out, "right there, Caleb. Fuck."

A dark, almost predatory satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. "Good girl," he whispers against your ear as his fingers slowly tug your panties down to your knees. His fingertips trace the skin of your things, slowly, teasingly. As his hand slid higher, he watched your face intently. The soft parting of your lips, the faint flush creeping up your cheeks. His thumb found your clit, a small, hard nub that he immediately began to circle with a firm, knowing pressure. You gasped, hips bucking instinctively against his hand. He grunted, the sound low and pleased. "That's it, Pips."

Without warning, he parted your slick lips and slid two long fingers inside you, the wetness of your pussy making his entrance smooth and easy. You cried out, your face burying deeper into the pillows. "Fuck, you're so tight...so perfect." He growled, his thumb finding your clit again, this time he circled it in time with his fingers moving in and out of you. A slow, punishing rhythm, stretching you and filling you. "I'm the only one who gets to touch you like this. Remember that."

"Fuck, Caleb!" You moan, your ass lifting to meet each thrust of his fingers, taking them deeper. "Oh my god...that's...fuck. That's so good." You gasp out through broken sounds of pleasure.

Caleb watched your ass lift off the bed, chasing his touch, and the sight obliterated any remaining shred of gentleness. This was what he wanted. What he needed. You, undone and begging for him. He leaned close, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder. "That's it. You have no idea...how long I've waited to hear you make those sounds." He quickened the pace of his fingers, curling them with each inward thrust, brushing them against the sensitive walls of your pussy. "Fuck, you feel so good. Did you get this wet for me, Pipsqueak? All this, just for me."

He wasn't finished. Not even close, but you were. He thrust his fingers harder and faster, while his other hand found the tight puckered ring of your ass, teasing it. "I'm going to make you come so hard you'll forget your own name," he murmured, "But first, tell me who you belong to." He pushes a single finger against your anus as his other fingers continue to fuck your tight pussy. He hadn't breached it yet, but he was making his intention clear.

"You," you cry out, knuckles tight from gripping the bed sheets. "I belong to you, Caleb. Fuck, I'm yours."

A dark, possessive satisfaction flooded Caleb's veins, hot and immediately. He shifted behind you and drove his knee between your legs, spreading his wider for his hands. The pressure of his finger against your ass increased, a blunt, insistent promise of what he could do. What he would do. He wanted to own every inch of you.

"Come for me, Pipsqueak," he commanded, "make a mess all over my hands."

The words dissolved you into a puddle of pleasure, and you cried out.

"Oh god- Caleb! Yes, yes...fuck!"

Caleb felt the violent clenching of your walls around his fingers, a searing, tight grip that milked a groan of his own from deep in his chest. Your body went riding, every muscle pulled taut as the orgasm slammed into you, a powerful, shuddering wave that he felt in every fiber of his being. He drove his fingers into you one last time, hard and deep, chasing the very peak of your release. When your breathing slowed, and the shuddering subsided, he slowly withdrew his fingers, the wet sound thick in the air. He collapsed into the bed beside you, pulling you into his embrace. He rolled you onto your back, his arm hooking around your waist to keep you pressed against his side.

You were boneless, head lolling against his shoulder, and your breathing coming in ragged, shallow gasps. He leaned down, lips finding the pulse point on your neck, "Fuck, pipsqueak. You're incredible." He licked a stripe up your throat, tasting the salt of your skin. Caleb looked down at your face, your eyes unfocused, your lips swollen and parted. "Did it feel good? Tell me, Pips, I need to know I made you feel good." His own arousal was a painful, throbbing ache. This was far from over. He nudged your chin up with his fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Look at me. This is just a taste of what I'm going to do to you...I want to be the only thing you think about."

"Then take me, Caleb." You whisper through the cloud of pleasure you just disappeared into.

He watched your chest rise and fall, and it wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted you breathless again, moaning and writhing beneath him.

He shifted, looming over you, resting himself on his forearms as he caged you in against the bed. One hand moved, sliding down the length of your body, between your legs again. His fingers stroked your sensitive nub, dipping lower to collect your wetness and spread it there. "You're so ready for me. So wet and open," he murmured in your ear, "I'm going to stretch that tight little pussy open, Pipsqueak. I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

Caleb kicked off his tracksuits, and his thick, hard cock sprang free. Heavy and slick with pre-cum. He settled between your things, his naked skin against yours. The heat of him a shocking, overwhelming reality.

You reach down between your bodies and grip his cock, slowly rubbing the tip through your wet folds. The sensation makes your breath hitch, and your eyes roll slightly.

The searing wet heat of your folds enveloping the head of his cock rips a guttural groan from Caleb. The way your eyes rolled back in pure, unadulterated sensation was his undoing. Just the teasing slide between your swollen pussy lips, and you were already coming apart for him. His grip on your hips tightens, his knuckles white as he held you pinned beneath him. "Fuck, pips, just the feel of you is making me lose my mind." He pushed forward just a fraction, the crown of his cock pressing insistently against your tight entrance. He felt your body instinctively try to take him, a welcoming clench that nearly made him come right then and there.

His face was inches from yours, and he took your hand from his cock and interlaced your fingers, pinning it beside your head. "Look at me. I want you to watch me when I fuck you." He reached between your bodies and guided the slick, purple head of his cock into you. His hips pressing forward. The blunt pressure made you gasp. He paused there, just the tip throbbing inside you. "Feel that?" He growls into your ear, "Think you can take more, pips? You feel so fucking good..." He flexed his hips, inching deeper, and you gasp out, back arching off the bed.

Your body tightened around him, a welcoming clench that made him groan. "You take me so well. It's like you were made for this. Made for me." His hand came up to your throat, not to choke, but to hold. He couldn't wait any longer. He pushed forward, a slow, deliberate invasion that was pure, exquisite torture for you both. He watched your face, saw the way your eyes widened, the way you lips parted in a silent gasp as he filled you. Inch by agonising inch. He was thick, and you were so incredibly tight, your slick walls gripping him like a velvet vice. "That's it, Pips. Take all of me...good fucking girl."

He pulled back just a few inches, his cock dragging against your tight walls with a delicious friction, then he slammed back into you. A single punishing thrust that buried him to the hilt. "Fuck." He moaned. He began to move, his thrusts deep and unsteady, driven by a storm of emotion he could no longer contain.

"Oh, Caleb! Fuck...just like that..." You moan out, back bowing off the bed as you writhe beneath him.

"You're mine." He growls, punctuating it with a deep, hard thrust.

"I'm yours." You gasp in response.

"Fuck, Pips...what are you doing to me?"

The rhythm was raw and frantic with need. He was devouring you.

The headboard began to slam against the wall, in a punishing beat that matched the wild tempo of his hips. His gaze had become wild, almost unhinged, full of a terrifying, all-consuming adoration.

His lips crashed down to yours, a bruising, open-mouthed kiss that tasted of sweat, tears and desperation. His tongue plundered your mouth with need. He broke the kiss, only to gasp for air.

"You're going to come with me right now." He commanded, the words a ragged, broken growl against your lips. He felt your walls begin to clench around the base of his cock, the first tremors of your orgasm announcing their arrival. The feeling tipped him over the edge.

"Fuck, Pips, I'm coming! I'm fucking coming!" His own release was a hot, searing pressure at the base of his spine. With one final guttural roar that was your name, he drove into you one last time. His body arching as his hot, thick seed flooded you in pulsing, unstoppable waves, perfectly timed with your own climax.

Caleb collapsed on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. The mixture of sweat and your own fragrance was more intoxicating than any drug. He stayed embedded deep inside you. He pulled back just an inch, his face so close to yours you could feel his hot breath ghost across your cheek. His hands cradled your cheeks, thumbs stroking adoringly.

"I love you, Pipsqueak. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. Since I was old enough to give this feeling a name." His thumb stroked your bottom lip, parting them softly, "You're mine now. I'm never letting you go. This is ours now...you know that, right?

You nod slowly, lips quirking into a smile.

"Yeah, I know." You whisper. "I love you too, Caleb."

The smile that lit up his face was unlike anything you had seen before. It was so bright, so joyful and boyish. He kissed you, soft and adoringly, while his hips began to press in a slow, deep motion. A silent, physical affirmation of both of your words.

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