#who else

Running a fingertip along his cheek, over the slope of his nose and down to his lips, you linger there for a second longer, giving him a short kiss before turning away. Your legs dangle over the edge of the bed as you stretch your arms above your head, still tired but wanting to do something nice for the man who never fails to put you first.

Some days you wonder how he isn’t completely exhausted juggling not only his demanding job but also his demanding pipsqueak. He must be hiding it.

Yawning so wide your eyes water, you blearily note the sound of rustling fabric. Caleb wraps an arm around your waist from behind, sitting up to rest his head on your shoulder. Maybe you should’ve tried to be a little quieter, a little faster to leave, but you can’t be upset about the way he clings to you—you love it too much.

“Where,” Caleb says, voice a low rasp against your ear, “do you think you’re going?”

Your fingers tighten in the sheets. His morning voice always gets to you. Yet, you sense an undertone of fragility.

“I was going to make you breakfast in bed,” you murmur, one of your hands skimming over the arm wrapped around your midsection.

Caleb huffs, amused. “And I ruined it? Whoopsie.” Tilting his head into your neck, he breathes you in, and your brows crease as you try not to let something so small draw a reaction from you. “But it’s too early for you to be startin’ the day. If you get up now, you’ll want a nap later.”

You sigh. Caleb’s right. You can already feel yourself relaxing back into him as he adjusts to pull you into his lap, your body easily slotting against his own.

“Let me help you with it later, though,” you say begrudgingly.

The muscles in his forearm flex against your stomach as he squeezes you, pressing a kiss to your neck that makes you stiffen. “Alright, alright. We’ll see.”

Tilting your head back, it rests on his shoulder. Caleb’s hands drift either side of your waist, thumbs pressing into your lower back in slow, circular movements reminiscent of a massage. Your hands find his wrists with a sharp inhale, but when he hums into your skin, you let yourself slowly slacken in his hold.

“Mm, that’s it,” he whispers, and your lungs stutter around a breath.

“What’re you doing?”

Caleb’s lips twitch against your skin. “Makin’ you feel all nice and relaxed. It’s working, no?”

As if to prove his point, his hands slide up an inch further, continuing his massage, and your back arches slightly in response. His lips graze the junction of your neck before he sucks lightly on your skin, and the mix of sensations are already dizzying.

“You’re making me feel a little more than relaxed,” you huff, hands slipping down his forearms, feeling the way his movements make for the shifting of muscles and tendons beneath his skin on one arm, the other unyielding metal. It’s anatomy, a basic principle, but somehow it fascinates you in a way, makes your cheeks heat further.

Caleb grins conspiringly, grip on your body tightening. “How so?”

He soothes his tongue over the small mark he made before kissing his way to the collar of your sleep shirt.

“I feel warm, and…” you lose your line of thought, or perhaps you’re too embarrassed to say more.

“And?” Caleb prompts, voice dipping lower, hands stilling on your waist. “If you’re warm, should I take your shirt off?”

Nodding, you pull yourself upright. It’s an excuse, but you both know that. He brings his hands to the hem of the shirt, raising it over your lifted arms and tossing it to the foot of the bed. Caleb hooks his chin over your shoulder, bringing you to lay back against him once more with a hand splayed at your stomach.

“Just look at you,” he murmurs in barely concealed admiration. He grips your jaw, taking a moment to place a smattering of kisses to your neck before coaxing you to glance downward. “Look.”

Caleb’s hand is a perfect fit to your waist—you wear him like he was made for you, or maybe you were made for him, and he can’t help but feel the same way as your supple skin molds to the shape of his fingers. Pressing his palm flat against you, fingers stretched wide, he lets out a breath that passes over the shell of your ear. 

His hands leave you momentarily before skirting over your wrists, drawing a slow line up your forearms, biceps, ending at your shoulders as he clutches them. 

“I want you to watch as I touch you, okay baby? Don’t look away.”

You crane your neck to see his face, and when you glimpse the way he looks so breathless as your eyes meet, it stirs something low in your stomach. “Caleb…” 

He simply catches your jaw once more and angles it how it was before. Anticipation makes your breath come short as you watch his palms smooth over your chest, catching your nipples in a way that makes you lean into the contact. His fingertips trace your sternum, moving lower as his hands wrap either side of your waist, sliding upwards and feeling along the bones of your ribcage. He makes it to your chest again, cupping your boobs, and you lean further back against him, the both of you trying to control your breathing.

“Please, Caleb,” you say, voice quiet and unsteady. Your eyes stay on his hands, mostly because he asked you, though the sight is hard to look away from in and of itself.

Caleb gasps, almost silently. “You don’t need to beg me, my pretty girl. I’ll always give you what you want,” he says, but you have a feeling he likes hearing you ask for it.

Caleb's fingertips skim your nipples, repeating that same little sweep of his fingers after you make a breathy sound. Just faint, drawn out touches of the pads of his fingers have you gripping his arms, the gentle, observant way he handles you making your heart flutter. You don’t even notice your eyes have closed, your body chasing his hands each time he pulls them away.

Fingertips closing around the buds, he rolls them, pinches them, does whatever will get you to go soft and pliant and needy under his hands. 

“How do you feel now?” He asks, head dipping down to meet your neck. “Still ‘warm, and’?”

Nodding, your nails bite into his skin slightly as he makes out with your throat. “Ah—It’s good, you feel good.”

“Oh—”

Squirming, your legs manage to part over one of his thighs, and the pressure against your core feels relieving to the ache that’s becoming more apparent. You sense Caleb’s gaze, his muffled moan as you rock your hips against his thigh, just a small shift in your hips that feels lewd to be seen doing.

When his thigh lifts beneath you, you whine, rolling your hips far more openly, and Caleb seems to be done with whatever it is you’d started doing, quickly pulling you closer and lying back on the bed with you both on your sides, him spooning you. Palm sliding down to your legs, he pulls the top one securely over his thigh before parting his own legs, and you’re forced open with him. You tense, instinctively trying to close up, but one is hiked high over his thigh and his other leg rests over yours, pressing it into the mattress when he feels you move.

“You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” Caleb pants, and you can feel his bulge twitch against you, fingers teasing the waistband of your sleep shorts. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ll make you feel more than just good, yeah? Anything you want.”

Muttering an utterly wrecked assent, you feel his hand slip beneath your shorts, rapidly seeking out your wet folds. You both moan as Caleb feels how soaked you are for him, your breath hitching at the first glide of his fingers through your heat.

“You’re dripping,” Caleb groans, stroking you slowly. 

Thighs quivering, you whimper, reaching to grasp at the closest part of him you can reach, which happens to be his arm again. You’re not disappointed. You call out his name under your breath.

Caleb slides the first digit into you, pressing up against your walls. The drag out is careful, and he pushes back in just as steadily, the depth alone reaching parts of you that your smaller fingers struggle to find. Pulling out, his finger makes its way to your clit, pressing down and making slow circles on the sensitive bud while you let out a faint sound into the thick air between you.

“Shh,” he says, lips attached to your neck, breathing you in. “Caleb’s gonna take care of you.”

“You’re so nice to me,” you reply, a little lost in his big warm hold.

A breathy laugh escapes him, reverberates through his chest into your back. “That’s right…”

And he does take care of you. After toying with your clit until you’re almost dizzy, slack against him, he lines two fingers up to your hole, pushing them in as deep as they’ll go. You moan at the stretch of him, clenching around him as he sets a fast pace, fingertips knocking against your walls, searching for that spongy spot that makes you see stars.

“Caleb, Caleb, ah—” you breathe, gripping his arm with vigour, rocking your hips into his hand as much as the position will let you. Caleb whimpers into your neck, watching the display, trying not to cum in his pants from how you’re grinding your ass over his boner each time you shift your hips. When you keen loudly, head falling back, he knows to keep angling his fingers right there, at the spot that’ll make you fall apart on his fingers.

You squirm at his relentless precision, and Caleb’s other arm wraps around you, pulling your body the rest of the way atop his own, thighs spread over his as you lay fully against his chest. Your legs tremble in an effort to shut, and he uses his evol to hold them in place. A wave of arousal shoots to his dick at how easy it is to restrain you, how you don’t fight against it .

“Cum, cum all over my hand,” Caleb rasps, voice right beside your ear, sounding almost as undone as you are. “Cum for me.”

Bringing your hand to your mouth, you bite down on your skin, but Caleb is quick to remove it, replacing it with his fingers. He shoves them halfway into your mouth as your orgasm hits, and you moan around them, back arching sharply whilst he fingers you through it.

“Good girl,” you hear in the midst of it all.

Your hips slow their movements, and your hazy stare meets the ceiling. Caleb’s hand stops moving, remaining inside you as he pulls his fingers from your mouth to trail them over your chest softly, leaving a path of saliva in their wake. Still catching your breath, you sigh as he directs his attention to your boobs again, pinching one nipple softly, teasing the bud between his fingertips.

“When I’m lookin’ at you from here, I can see what you see,” Caleb murmurs, voice close. A pleasant tingle runs down your spine. “I can feel when you move, smell your shampoo, your perfume, your scent.”

He gives your nipple one sharp pinch before moving to the other. Your head falls to face the side.

“I feel you too,” you respond. Caleb’s dick is leaking a wet spot through his clothes and your shorts, pressing against your behind. You shift your hips over him and he grunts, hand coming to hold you in place.

“Wait, baby,” he speaks in a soft voice, and his fingers start moving inside you again, setting the same rapid pace as before. Whining, your hands slam against the mattress as you try to push up, but Caleb wraps an arm around you to pull you down again.

“Caleb, hurts—” you cry out at the overstimulation, body writhing helplessly.

“You can take it,” he says, holding you tight. “Unless you want to stop?”

“No!”

“I don't want to either.”

Caleb’s evol prevents your legs from kicking out, and you feel a little like a pinned bug when there’s nothing you can do to escape him. The sensations are overwhelming, painful, but still so good, and you’re not sure whether to chase them or run away. You’re given neither option, anyway. 

Eventually, you stop fighting, going boneless atop him.

“See? Knew you could do it,” Caleb breathes.

By the time he slows, you’re not sure if you want him to. He halts to a slow grind inside you, thumb finding your clit as you moan weakly. Then, he scissors your walls, and your body jolts at the feeling. A third digit prods at your entrance. You squeak as it joins the rest, a tight fit, but not painful.

“Squeezin’ my fingers so tight.” Caleb thrusts them into you shallowly. “Do you want me even deeper? Need you, pips.”

You fight the haze in your mind as you reply. “Been so good to me, Caleb. I want you to have it. Want you inside.”

Caleb nips the shell of your ear, shoving his fingers as deep as they’ll go before pulling them out, releasing his evol’s hold on your body to pull your shorts and panties down your hips. You move your legs to help him get them past your knees, kicking them off when they slip down to your ankles to the far corner of the bed. 

Grabbing an unoccupied pillow, he tugs it closer and flips you both over, slipping it beneath your hips. You let out a breath as your cheek meets the mattress, going lax as he cards a hand through your hair and tilts himself to meet your gaze. His eyes are dark, but his smile is so soft, hair falling against a forehead beaded with sweat, face flushed.

“I love you,” he says warmly, pressing a kiss to your shoulderblade. “More than you’ll know.”

You watch him. He averts his gaze downward, shucks off his pants, makes a little sound as his dick is freed. Caleb adjusts the position of your thighs and slides his tip over your folds, using one hand to smear your juices all over himself, the other holding himself up, his thick bicep almost close enough to your face to bite. He starts to push himself in.

“I love you too,” you finally say, squinting at the stretch of him—it hurts, but it’s delicious all the same. “You’re… everything to me.”

Caleb looks up, gaze locking onto yours. His other arm braces at your other side, his face bowing to press a kiss to your cheek. Brows creasing, your hand finds one of his.

“Do it,” you whisper.

Shuddering, his hips slam into yours, filling you all the way, your body being pushed against the bed. Neither of you look away from each other. The sound you make is high pitched and a little pained, and Caleb summons all his restraint to let you adjust, grinding into you gently and singing your praises between breathy whimpers, even as your nails dig into his skin.

At some point, your eyes drift shut. Tension and pain bleeds out of your body, world narrowing to the warm air and your combined breaths, Caleb’s dick nudging a place high, high up inside you, his voice next to your ear. You forget everything besides him, remember nothing but the present, pulled into a world where your growing, mounting pleasure is all you can feel. You are light, warm, held.

“Oh, honey,” Caleb rasps, deepening his thrusts. “You feel good?”

You don’t know what your face is doing. The press of his hips against your own is heavenly, the sounds you make together are lewd, and through everything you find that you can’t respond to him. Caleb loves you, is making love to you, and you love him so much, too.

“Mmh, you’re so cute,” he says, expression fond. Then his breath hitches, and he sighs into your hot skin. “Sucking me in. Never wanna leave you.”

Caleb drapes his body over your own, fucking you in earnest, and you take it, grinding back against him without realising, back arched sharply. The pressure of his body against yours still accommodates both your rapid breaths. Feeling him so deep, so close, makes your heart feel full and warm. Your body parts around his dick, lets him in, accepts every inch, all he’ll give.

Your legs start to tremble as your orgasm approaches, little tremors that, alongside your pulsing walls, tell him you’re on the brink of falling apart.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum baby,” Caleb moans. “Love you love you love you…”

You don’t know who cums first, so inextricably entwined in this moment that it’s anyone’s guess. Caleb thrusts into you until you both have matching tears of overstimulation, until he physically can’t keep going on. Then, just before you pass out, he lays himself beside you and pulls you into his arms.

—

You wake up redressed in warm pyjamas, clean and pleasantly limp, to Caleb stroking your cheek. He gives you one of those smiles that make you want to keep him in your arms for an eternity.

“Hey, how are you feeling? I made us pancakes,” Caleb says, helping you sit up. When you immediately cling to him, he laughs and hugs you back.

“I’m feeling hungry,” you pout. “And I need to pee. But… I thought you said you’d let me help with breakfast?”

Caleb hums in consideration. “Oh, really? I never heard such a thing.” Leaning down, he kisses your forehead. “Besides, when have I not taken care of you? Making breakfast is a piece of cake.”

Huffing, you try to turn away from him, but he only pulls you closer. “You spoil me.”

“Yep, and I’ll have you know Caleb’s got a lot more love where that’s comin’ from, Pipsqueak,” he says, lifting you up and walking you to the bathroom. “That’s for sure.”