You couldn't help yourself and stole kiss from her. Caleb opened her eyes again. "I didn't know kissing would be part of your routine."

"It's my reward for doing your makeup. Stay still again, I'm almost done." You curl her lashes and apply mascara.

Caleb was pretty good at doing makeup herself. She learned when you were teens so she can do your makeup. But she never really wears it herself. Caleb was a bit of a tomboy growing up, even now her style and presentation always leaned more masculine. So you were curious to see how she look with full glam on. Of course someone as gorgeous as her would only look more stunning with makeup.

You carefully applied a red lipstick on her. "This color looks so pretty on you."

"Really?" She looked up at you.

"Yes it lo-". You were by interrupted by her pressing her lips against yours. She pulled away, a smug expression on her face.

"I think it looks more pretty on you." Her lipstick had smudged on your lips. Caleb grabs you face and pulls you back in for another kiss. You let out soft moans as she devoured you. She always kissed you with such passion and desire as if to make up for all the years of yearning between you too.

You pull slightly away to catch your breath. "What was that all for?"

"I'm giving you your reward." She kissed your neck leaving behind a kiss mark. "I've been away for so long. I missed you pips." She kissed your collarbone leaving behind another mark. "Will you let me show you just how much I missed." She looked up at you with her irresistible puppy eyes.

You nodded in response and let her help you slip of your tank top. Caleb kissed your bare tit, leaving yet another faint mark. "You look so pretty like this, marked by my kisses. No one will take you away from me because they'll know your mine." She sucked on one of your nipples while pinching the other. You whimpered and grinded yourself against her thigh.

She gently pushed you on your back. Your lips connected together in another passionate kiss. Your hand ran up her shirt and fondle one of her tits. Caleb quickly took off her shirt, fully exposing her tits to you. They were always bigger than yours. You grabbed at both of them, pinching her nipples between your fingers. She resumed kissing you letting her moans drown out in your mouth.

You felt her hand slip under your panties. You moaned when she began to rub your clit in cricles. "You're so wet. You must have really missed me too angel."

"Caleb I want more."

"Did you touch yourself at all when I was gone." You shook your head no. "No wonder you're so needy. You can't fuck yourself as good as I can."

She sat up and slip of your shorts and panties. You open your legs, exposing your pussy to the cool air. Caleb dragged a finger between your folds all the way up to your throbbing clit. She then sucked on her own finger to taste you. "Fuck you taste amazing."

She layed down on her stomach and angled her head right adove your pussy. She nibbled at your inner thighs before slowly kissing her way to your cunt. You could feel her warm breath right on your clit. You looked at you while giving your clit small licks. "Caleb please." Your plea come out whiny and needy. You couldn't stand her teasing anymore.

She finally took your clit into her mouth and greedily began sucking. "Caleb Caleb Cay." All you could do was moan out her name. Caleb inserted two fingers inside you. Your back back arched when she hit your sweet spot. You gripped her hair with one hand while the other gripped the sheets. Your hips moved on thier own, grinding against her face.

The pleasure was had overtaken your entire body. She was eating you out so good. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. "I'm gonna cum." Caleb gripped your thighs harder, silently encouraging you to let go. Your came hard. You harshly pulled her hair, while your juices gushed on to her mouth.

You were breathless and you could still feel yourself twitching from your orgasm. Caleb pulled her head away from your cunt. Your arousal was dripping down her lips. She blissfully smiled at you.

"I ruined your makeup." You realize looking at the smudged lipstick on her face.

"I don't care." She kissed your inner thigh. "It's like you marked me too."

AN: First time I’ve written wlw. I’m hoping it come out okay :)

you hadn't played it yet, hadn't dared to touch that button, but your phone had already detected what he was saying and transcribed it for you. and there in black text, clear as day, was your name written over and over again.

the pace at which your heart was thumping in your chest was like nothing else. you could already feel your face going warm at just the thought of what he sounded like. your finger was hovering over the button, but you were… nervous?

you shake your head as if ridding yourself of everything and just text him instead.

you : there's no way you actually did it.

you wait patiently, watching as the little text bubble appears, disappears for a moment, and then reappears.

caleb : listen to it.

he responds. it wasn't a question, not a suggestion. it was a demand.

you : how do you know i haven't already?

the response from him comes almost immediately this time.

caleb : because i know you too well.

your stomach twists and turns. god, you hated when he used that line on you. you hated how true it was. you hated how he used your little mannerisms to his own advantage.

you : i hate you.

caleb : you love me.

you don't take the time to reply before scrolling back up to the audio message, your finger hovering over the play button once more. you don't know why you were freaking out so much - you wanted this. whether it was a joke or not, you asked for it.

you inhale, and exhale, deeply before bracing yourself as you press play. your heart races as you bring it up to your ear, waiting to hear his voice.

at first, it's just silence, but you know he's there, you can hear his subtle breaths as he gets closer to the speaker. there's some shuffling, the sound of his necklace hitting the floor before he pushes up - as you suspect - and your name leaves his mouth in a raspy groan.

your breath hitches as the sound of his voice wraps around you - low, strained, inevitably yours. it's not just a push-up, he drags your name out like it's something he's been holding in for years.

your name leaves him again and again as he pushes his body up and down in sync. the sound is almost hypnotizing. his soft grunts and heavy breathing have you biting down on your bottom lip to hold back a quiet moan that threatens to escape.

with each repetition, his voice becomes more strained. the effort he's exerting is evident from the way he draws it out, and it's doing something to you. heat begins to pool in your belly as you imagine his muscles flexing with each push-up, sweat glistening on his skin and his cheeks beginning to flush. you loved it when he flushed.

you're biting down so hard on your lip now that you can feel the taste of copper on your tongue. you can't help but squirm, the sound of your name coming from him and the image of him working out, all because of you, it's almost too much.

you want to hear him say it again. you need to hear him say it again.

opening up the text box, you begin typing a message before stopping yourself and erasing it. you didn't know what to say to him now. would a 'that was nice' suffice? no. how about a 'can you send me more?' no.

then as if on cue, a message from him comes through.

caleb : that good, huh?

there he was, knowing you so well again. it was both a curse and a damn blessing. that, and the fact that he was probably watching your typing bubble appear and disappear continuously.

you can hear the smugness in his words, can imagine the way he was probably sitting back right now, waiting for your reply, knowing that he had this much of an effect on you without even being in the same room.

you hated how he got under your skin the way he did.

and you hated how much you liked it.

before you can begin typing again, your phone starts ringing and a photo of him pops up - it was one you had taken when you were out with friends. the two of you had decided to hang back while the others went into a store, it was late and he was admiring the stars. you couldn't not take a photo.

with a deep sigh, you swipe to answer.

"enjoy the audio, i'm guessing?" he sounds too damn cocky for his own good.

"you're such an asshole," you almost whine.

he has the audacity to laugh. the low, deep sound that makes your belly flutter.

for a moment there's only silence - nothing uncomfortable, just the two of you stuck in your own thoughts. and then he says it… your name. except this time it's so much lower, rougher than before, and suddenly your name doesn't feel like just your name anymore.

you're taken aback by it for a second, the sudden change in his voice so different to anything you've ever heard from him. it's huskier, and more… sensual. his breathing is heavy, the sound making heat pool in your lower belly once again.

"say my name," he demands.

and you don't know if it's the tone of his voice or the fact that you would do anything he asked of you, but you obey.

"caleb."

you can tell that the sound of your voice saying his name is doing something to him. he groans, the noise so deep and rough that you have to bite back a whimper. he sounds just as affected as you are, perhaps even more.

"again."

you have to swallow before speaking again. your words coming out a little shaky, a little breathless and a lot more needy than you would care to admit.

"….caleb."

he practically hisses, the sound almost animalistic. there's a pause and you feel like your heart is going to thump right out of your chest. but then the words that leave his lips are so unexpected, so blunt… yet so him that somehow you're still taken off guard.

"say it again… please."

the begging tone of his voice, the desperate edge that you've never heard before, it's driving you insane.

your hand moves on its own, and you're gripping the phone in your other so tightly it feels like it could break. you have to close your eyes for a moment, have to take a breath, and his name spills from your mouth once more before you can stop it.

your hand roams further down, pushing beneath the fabric of your pants to where you were already soaked with arousal.

he groans as he hears the change in your breathing. his own heart was pounding and skin boiling to the touch. he knew damn well what he was doing to you, it was the whole reason he sent the audio to begin with.

"fuckk… are you touching yourself, baby?" he whispers.

you're too far gone to be embarrassed by it now. "mhm... are you?"

he lets out a sharp, breathy laugh - like the idea of him not being affected is absurd.

"you have to ask?" he rasps, then lowers his voice. "listen."

the unmistakable sound of fabric shifting and being pulled down has you breathing out shaky exhales, as if you're trying to catch up on oxygen you're no longer getting enough of. you can see him in your mind, in your head: that cocky, smug grin, those sharp, dark eyes, that jawline, the veins in his forearms as he-

"can you hear it?" he asks, and his voice breaks you out of your mental image, sending a shiver down your spine. "… how badly you're affecting me right now?"

your fingers move in slow, smooth, circular motions, "….yeah."

the sound of his ragged breathing through the phone goes straight to your core, adding fuel to the already blazing fire. and the way he rasps out the question that follows only makes it worse. "does it feel good?"

"yes…." the word is breathy and shaky, cracking away at his resolve. "tell me w-what you're doing to yourself."

he can't help the way he lets out a low moan. he was desperate, so desperate to hear more - to be more.

he groans at the request, his voice low and gruff. he'll never get over how wrecked he was by your voice alone. "you want the dirty details, baby?"

"uh huh" you sigh softly.

"you want to hear what i'm doing to myself, hmm? so you can picture it all in that pretty little head of yours?"

"….yes." you unashamedly admit.

that simple response has him moaning your name. god, he loved how open and unashamed you were being with him right now. loved knowing he was the one doing this to you.

his voice is still that low, deep tone that makes your toes curl, "can you imagine me right now? with my hand wrapped-" he pauses, letting out a huff that has you holding in a groan as he tries to steady his breathing. "..wrapped around myself?"

his words send jolts through you, your cunt fully soaked and panties along with it, and he can hear it in how your breathing pattern changes. he loved how he can tell how worked up you are even without being with you. you could hear how fast he was pumping himself, hear the stickiness of his fingers running over his cock, and your own begin to move faster around your clit, the slickness just loud enough for him to hear.

"ffuck… caleb…" you practically moan.

he groans at the sound, his hips jerking into his own grip. this was what he wanted, what he was aiming for - you falling apart for him on the other end, and he was falling apart for you in the same way.

god, you were both a mess, and all because you asked for a silly audio file as a joke.

"fuck, baby… you sound so good for me," he growls, the words rough with need. "gonna make you come just like this? just hearing my voice?"

the thought alone - of you, trembling and coming undone while he listened - has his hand moving faster over himself too.

"don't stop… don't stop talking," you're begging now, lost in a hazy, pleasure-filled daze as his words and the sound of your own pleasure consume your mind.

he was getting there too, his low moans and desperate groans echoing through your head and making your whole body tingle. you were close. so damn close.

"i can hear you," he murmurs, and you shiver at his words. "i can hear how hard you're working yourself… how bad you want to come for me. fuck-" he growls, and the way your name spills from his lips once more is enough to push you over the edge.

you can't stop the cry that rips out of you as your back arches off your bed, body trembling through the waves of pleasure.

he doesn't let up either, following right after you.

he's left breathless and shuddering - as are you - your name the only word echoing through his mind as he comes down from his own high. your fingers are still buried in your cunt, easing yourself down from your orgasm.

it takes a few seconds for either of you to say anything, your breathing heavy and erratic. but then, once it's finally steadied and the ringing in your ears has subsided… you hear him whisper one last thing but you can't make it out.

"…so," he starts casually, like the two of you hadn't just been tearing each other apart over the phone. "still claiming that sending that video was a joke?"

"i don't know... i might need some more convincing."

he laughs in disbelief. of course you weren't going to back down so easily.

caleb is a mix of amused and surprised and still completely captivated by you when he replies with an almost cocky hum, "is that so?"

his voice drops low, that teasing, seductive tone he knows drives you crazy making a comeback, "then i guess i'll just have to convince you tomorrow when i see you."

𝓵𝐨𝐨𝐤𝓲𝐧𝐠 𝓯𝐨𝐫 𝓶𝐨𝐫𝐞 .ᐣ library taglist form guidelines

The small pink box sits on the edge of the sink, its cheerful pastel packaging a mockery of your current situation.

You grab a tampon, ripping the cardboard open with your teeth because your hands are already shaking too much to coordinate a proper tear. The bathroom feels suddenly stifling, the white tiles and harsh fluorescent light amplifying your misery.

This was supposed to be the day. The day Caleb finally stops pretending he doesn’t want to fuck you with his big ass cock.

All morning, you’d been planning.

You’d shaved everywhere, even the places that didn’t need it, and slathered yourself in that vanilla body butter he always compliments. You’d been practicing your speech in the shower, not that you’d need one.

The plan was simple. Clean up, then plant yourself on his lap while he’s watching TV, all innocent-like in just your oversized t-shirt and no underwear. You’d make a joke, then bite your lip. He’d get that look in his eyes, the one he thinks you don’t notice, and then... finally.

But now? Now you’re standing here with blood running down your legs and a tampon that feels like it’s expanding to the size of a football inside you.

A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it, then another. You wipe them away angrily, but they keep coming.

“Stupid hormones,” you mutter, but the tears keep falling, hot and insistent. Your chest feels tight, like something’s squeezing your lungs, and your nose is starting to run. God, you’re a mess.

You reach for a tissue to blow your nose, but your hand knocks over the box of tampons, sending them scattering across the bathroom floor. The sound of them bouncing off the tiles is loud in the quiet house. Too loud. You freeze, listening.

For a moment, there’s nothing.

“Pips? You okay in there?”

Caleb’s voice.

Of course it’s Caleb’s voice.

You squeeze your eyes shut, mortification washing over you.

How much did he hear? The crying? The cursing? The tampons falling everywhere? Has he been standing out there the whole time, listening to your meltdown?

“I’m fine!” you call back, your voice cracking on the last word.

You sound anything but fine, even to your own ears. You hastily gather the scattered tampons, shoving them back into the box with shaking hands. “Just... dropped something!”

There’s a pause, and you can picture him out there, head tilted, brow furrowed in that way that makes the little crease appear between his eyes. “You sure? You’ve been in there a while.”

“Yes,” you insist, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Just... period stuff. You know.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to take them back.

Why did you tell him that?

Now he knows. Now he knows you’re bleeding and crying in the bathroom and that the day—and probably the next five days—are completely, utterly ruined.

You brace your hands on the edge of the sink, staring at your reflection again. Your eyes are red-rimmed, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. A strand of hair has escaped your ponytail and is sticking to your damp forehead. You look, in a word, pathetic.

Your stomach gives an uncomfortable twist, and you press a hand to it, wincing. The cramps are starting, another lovely feature of this wonderful day. You reach for the bottle of Midol on the shelf, popping two without water. They stick in your throat, and you have to swallow hard to force them down.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not today. You’d checked your period tracker app just yesterday. You weren’t due for three more days.

But your body, apparently, had other plans. Your own body has cockblocked you in the most literal way possible.

Outside the door, you can hear Caleb shifting his weight, the soft creak of the floorboards betraying his presence. He’s still out there, probably wondering what the hell is going on with you.

Part of you wants to fling the door open and throw yourself into his arms, to bury your face in his chest and let him tell you it’s going to be okay, the way he did when you were kids and scraped your knee or had a nightmare.

But you’re not a kid anymore, and the things you want from Caleb now are decidedly not the things a sister should want from her brother.

Another cramp hits, harder this time, and you bite your lip to keep from making a sound. The tampon feels wrong inside you, too big and too small all at once, a constant reminder of what you can’t have today.

You splash cold water on your face, trying to pull yourself together. Your reflection looks marginally better—the cold water has taken some of the redness from your eyes and cheeks.

You take a deep breath, then another. You can do this.

You can walk out of this bathroom, tell Caleb you’re fine, and then go lock yourself in your room with a heating pad and a pint of ice cream until this feeling passes.

But as you reach for the doorknob, there’s a soft knock that makes you jerk back as if burned.

“Pips?” Caleb’s voice is lower now, concerned. “I can hear you crying. Please let me in?”

You press your forehead against the cool wood of the door, another tear slipping free.

Of course he heard. Of course he knows. Of course the one day you were finally going to make your move, your body decided to betray you in the most spectacular way possible.

The day is ruined before it even began.

“You okay in there?” Caleb’s voice comes again, softer this time, tinged with worry.

You press your back against the bathroom door, as if your slight frame could somehow prevent him from coming in if he really wanted to. Your palms are damp against the wood, your heart hammering so loudly you’re certain he can hear it through the thin barrier between you.

“I’m fine,” you insist, wiping hastily at your eyes with the back of your hand. “Just...you know. Girl stuff.”

The phrase sounds juvenile even to your ears, but what else are you supposed to say? ‘Sorry, can’t have sex with you today, my uterus is currently evacuating’?

There’s a pause, and you can imagine him out there. Arms crossed, head tilted, that little furrow between his brows that appears when he’s trying to figure you out. The thought makes your chest ache.

“Pips,” he says, his voice gentle. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard you cry since you were twelve. Something’s up. Open the door?”

Your throat feels tight. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both,” you whisper, so quietly you’re not sure he can hear it.

The doorknob turns slightly beneath your back, testing. You tense, pushing harder against the wood. “Caleb, stop—“

“Look,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll make you a deal. You open the door, and I’ll make you those chocolate chip pancakes you like. The ones with the extra chips. And I won’t ask any questions you don’t want to answer.”

It’s a low blow. Those pancakes are your kryptonite. Your stomach, traitor that it is, growls softly at the thought.

“That’s not fair,” you mutter.

“I know,” he agrees cheerfully. “Is it working?”

You hesitate, then sigh in defeat. “Yes.”

“So you’ll open the door?”

You close your eyes, steeling yourself. “Yes.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now,” you snap, finally pushing away from the door. You turn and grab the handle, yanking it open with more force than necessary. “Happy—“

But you don’t get to finish the sentence because suddenly Caleb is there, and his arms are around you, and your face is pressed against his chest, and you can’t breathe.

Not because he’s holding you too tightly, though he is, a little, but because he’s Caleb, and he’s holding you, and it’s everything you’ve wanted and nothing like how you imagined it would be.

“You’re crushing me,” you manage to mumble into his shirt.

He loosens his grip immediately but doesn’t let go. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the top of your head. “I just—when I heard you crying—“ He stops, his arms tightening around you again. “What’s going on, Pips? Talk to me.”

You shake your head against his chest, not trusting yourself to speak.

His shirt is soft beneath your cheek, and he smells like that soap he always uses. Your hands, which have been hanging awkwardly at your sides, slowly come up to clutch at the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m being stupid,” you finally say, your voice muffled.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look down at you. “I highly doubt that,” he says, his eyes, those ridiculous purple eyes that have no business being on a human face, searching yours. “Try me.”

You swallow hard. “I just—I had this whole day planned, and now it’s ruined, and it’s all my body’s fault, and I know it’s stupid to be upset about it, but I am, and—“ The words are tumbling out now, tripping over each other in their rush to escape. “And now you probably think I’m a total freak, and—“

“Whoa, whoa,” Caleb interrupts, his hands coming up to frame your face. His thumbs brush away the tears you hadn’t even realized were falling again. “Slow down. What day? What are you talking about?”

You take a shuddering breath. “I was going to—I thought today I would finally—“ You stop, hiccuping embarrassingly. “I wanted you to fuck me,” you blurt out, the words hanging in the air between you.

Caleb goes perfectly still, his eyes widening slightly.

For one horrible moment, you think you’ve made a terrible mistake, that you’ve misread every look, every touch, every moment that made your heart race. That he’s going to push you away, disgust written all over his face.

But then his expression softens, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, Pips,” he says, his voice fond. “Is that why you’re crying? Because you got your period?”

You nod miserably. “I had it all planned,” you confess. “I cleaned everything, and I was going to sit on your lap while you were watching TV, and I wasn’t wearing any underwear under my shirt, and then I was going to—“ You stop, your face burning. “But then I went to the bathroom and—“ You gesture vaguely at yourself.

To your surprise, Caleb laughs. This bitch.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Do you know that?”

You blink at him. “I’m not adorable. I’m horny and hormonal and currently bleeding from my vagina.”

His laugh comes again, louder this time. “That too,” he agrees. His eyes, when they meet yours, have darkened slightly. “And you know what? I think we can work with that.”

Your breath catches. “What do you mean?”

His hand slides from your face to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. “I mean,” he says, his voice dropping to that register that always makes your knees weak, “that you look so fucking cute when you cry, and if you want me to fuck you, I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”

Your mouth goes dry. “But I’m—“

“I know,” he interrupts. “And that’s not going to stop me.” His other hand slides down to your waist, fingers splaying across the small of your back. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

You shake your head frantically. “No. God, no. Please—“

His smile turns predatory. “Then shut up and kiss me, Pips.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You surge forward, your lips meeting his with a desperation that would be embarrassing if he weren’t kissing you back just as hungrily. His mouth is hot against yours, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with yours as his hand tightens in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, then slide up to tangle in his hair. He breaks the kiss with a laugh, grabbing your waist and lifting you effortlessly.

You yelp in surprise, your legs automatically wrapping around his hips. “What are you—“

Caleb carries you straight to the kitchen, setting you down only to push you firmly against the counter. Your back hits the edge with a soft thud, and you gasp as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you with effortless strength until you’re perched on the cool granite surface.

His eyes never leave yours as he steps between your legs, spreading them wider with his hips.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” he murmurs, his voice thick with want. “Do you know that? For months. Maybe years.”

You shake your head, unable to form words as his hands slide up your thighs, pushing your shirt higher. His fingertips brush against the edge of your underwear—or where your underwear should be. Your breath catches as you remember your plan, the lack of barriers between you.

His eyes darken as he realizes it too. “Fuck, Pips,” he breathes. “You really weren’t wearing anything?”

You bite your lip, suddenly shy despite the way your body is screaming for his touch. “I told you. I had a plan.”

His laugh is low and hungry. “Well, your plan’s working.” One hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding you with unerring accuracy. “You’re so wet,” he says, sounding almost surprised. “Even with—“ He pauses, his expression shifting as his fingers brush against something.

The tampon string.

“Oh,” you say, your face burning. “I, uh—“

But Caleb is already grinning, that wicked smile that always gets you into trouble. “Let me see,” he says, tugging gently at the string.

You grab his wrist. “Wait—“

He freezes immediately. “Too much?”

You nod, embarrassment washing over you again. “It’s... sensitive. With the tampon in. I don’t—“ You stop, not sure how to explain the strange, oversensitive feeling without sounding completely insane.

But Caleb is already nodding, understanding dawning in his eyes. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice gentle. “We’ll work around it.” His hand withdraws, but before you can feel disappointed, he’s reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants.

Your mouth goes dry as he pushes them down just enough to free his cock. It stands proudly against his stomach, thick and already leaking at the tip.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says, watching your face carefully.

Then he spits into his palm, the crude gesture at odds with the tenderness in his eyes as he wraps his hand around himself. He strokes once, twice, spreading the saliva, before guiding himself to your entrance.

The head of his cock presses against you, hot and hard, and you gasp at the contact. “Okay?” he asks, his voice strained.

You nod frantically. “Yes, please—“

He pushes forward slightly, the tip of him catching on your folds, then sliding along your slit.

His hand wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself as he rocks against you. That fucking tampon string tickles his fingers with every thrust, a reminder of the messy reality, but fuck if it isn’t getting you even hotter, even needier.

“That’s it,” Caleb murmurs, his free hand coming up to cup your breast through your shirt. “You’re taking it so well. So fucking pretty for me.”

You whimper at his words, your hips moving of their own accord to meet his thrusts. The counter is cool beneath your heated skin, a counterpoint to the burning pleasure building between your legs. Caleb’s breath comes faster, his movements becoming less coordinated as he works himself against you.

“Fuck, Pips,” he groans, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder. “I’m not going to last if you keep—“

But you’re beyond words now, teetering on the edge of release. Your inner muscles clench around nothing, your body desperate for more. Caleb seems to sense it, his hand sliding between you to circle your clit with his thumb.

The touch is all it takes. Your orgasm crashes through you with unexpected force, your back arching off the counter as you cry out.

Through the haze of pleasure, you feel Caleb stiffen, then groan as warmth spills across your lower belly—his orgasm triggered by yours.

For a moment, you both just breathe, foreheads pressed together, sharing the same air. Then Caleb pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he takes in the sight of his cum on your skin.

“Fuck,” he says again, voice rough.

But you’re already moving, sliding off the counter on shaky legs. Your hand reaches between your legs, fingers brushing the tampon string to make sure it’s still in place, then moving lower to gather some of Caleb’s cum. Your heart is pounding, your mind oddly clear as you turn around and bend over the sink, using your free hand to spread your ass cheeks.

“Pips?” Caleb sounds confused, then, as you use your cum-covered finger to circle your asshole, shocked. “What are you—“

“I want more,” you say, your voice steadier than you expected. “I don’t care if it hurts.”

Caleb makes a strangled sound. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You look back at him over your shoulder, meeting his gaze steadily. “Yes, I do. I’ve thought about this. About you. About us.” You wiggle your ass slightly, watching his eyes track the movement. “Please, Caleb. I need you.”

He’s still for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he steps forward, one hand coming to rest on the small of your back. “I’m going to prep you first,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument. “If you can take two of my fingers without tapping out, we’ll talk.”

You nod, excitement and nervousness warring in your stomach. “Okay.”

His hand slides down, his finger, slick with a mixture of his cum and the saliva he spits into his palm, rubbing gentle circles around your hole.

“Breathe,” he instructs as he begins to push forward. “And tell me if you need me to stop.”

You bite your lip, focusing on the sensation of him working his finger inside you. It’s strange, not quite painful, but intense in a way you hadn’t expected.

Your body resists at first, then slowly gives way as Caleb crooks his finger, searching.

“There,” he says as you gasp at the new sensation.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Caleb laughs, the sound warm with affection. He adds a second finger beside the first, working them in carefully. “Still good?”

You nod, beyond words now as he scissors his fingers, stretching you. The slight burn is already fading, replaced by a needy, empty feeling that has you pushing back against his hand.

“I think,” Caleb says, his voice strained, “that you’re ready for more. But I need to hear you say it. I need to know you’re sure.”

You turn your head, meeting his eyes over your shoulder. “I’m sure,” you say, each word deliberate. “I want you. All of you. Now.”

Something flashes in his eyes. Desire, possession, maybe a hint of the same desperation you’re feeling.

“Then hold on,” he says, withdrawing his fingers. “Because I’m not going to be gentle.”

Caleb doesn’t give you time to reconsider.

One hand grips your hair, pulling just hard enough to make your scalp tingle as he forces your head down toward the sink. The other wraps around his cock, using it to scoop up the remaining cum on your ass, spreading it as a makeshift lubricant.

The head of him presses against your hole, the blunt pressure both foreign and thrilling as he begins to push forward.

“Breathe,” he reminds you, his voice tight with restraint. “Try to relax.”

You try, you really do, but your body resists the intrusion, the ring of muscle clenching tightly. Caleb pauses, his hand in your hair gentling to stroke soothingly.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “We can stop—“

“No,” you interrupt, pushing back against him despite the burn. “Don’t stop. Please.”

He hesitates a moment longer, then nods. “On three,” he says. “One, two—“

On three, he pushes forward, the head of his cock popping past the tight ring of muscle.

The sensation is overwhelming, an intensity that steals your breath. Your fingers scramble for purchase on the smooth surface of the sink, your knees threatening to buckle.

“Fuck,” Caleb hisses above you, his hand tightening in your hair. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You can’t answer, your world narrowed to the point where your bodies are joined. It burns, yes, but there’s pleasure there too.

From Caleb’s perspective, only the tip is inside you—maybe an inch at most. Your body has accepted that much, but no more, the passage too tight, too unyielding for him to push deeper. He can feel every pulse of your heartbeat around him, every slight shift as you try to adjust to the intrusion.

“Pips,” he says, his voice strained. “I need you to relax. You’re clenching too hard—I can’t—“

But then your body does something unexpected. The burn suddenly transforms, pleasure racing up your spine as your ass is stimulated by Caleb’s presence. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, your inner muscles clamping down hard around the intrusion as you cum with a broken cry, untouched.

The sudden tightness around him makes Caleb groan, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. “Fuck,” he gasps. “You’re going to make me—“

You’re beyond coherent thought, riding the waves of your unexpected climax. Your body is both tighter and somehow more yielding now, the ring of muscle around Caleb’s cock relaxing fractionally with each pulse of pleasure.

“That’s it,” Caleb encourages, his free hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. “Just like that. Let me in, Pips. Let me all the way in.”

Something about his words makes your body respond. Each time you unclench, he pushes forward another inch, the burn transforming gradually into a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, your forehead pressed to the cool surface of the sink as you focus on relaxing, on taking him deeper.

“Halfway,” Caleb murmurs, his voice thick with want. “You’re doing so well. So good for me.”

His praise sends another thrill through you, your body responding by relaxing further. He slides in another inch, then another, until you can feel the base of his cock pressing against your ass, his hips flush with your cheeks.

“Fuck,” he says, the word barely audible. “You’ve taken all of me.”

The realization that Caleb is inside you completely sends a fresh wave of pleasure through you.

You’re stretched full, every movement sending sparks along your nerve endings. When Caleb shifts slightly, his cock dragging along your sensitive inner walls, you whimper at the sensation.

“I can’t—“ he starts, then stops, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. “I’m going to—“

And then he’s cumming, his release triggering another, smaller orgasm for you. You feel each pulse of him inside you, the warmth of his cum filling you as your own muscles milk him for every drop.

“Okay?” he asks, his voice rough.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. The fullness is strange but not uncomfortable now, your body having adjusted to his presence.

Slowly, carefully, you lift one leg to rest your foot on the counter beside you. The new angle makes Caleb’s cock shift inside you, drawing a gasp from both of you.

“What are you—“ he starts, but you’re already moving, your hips rolling experimentally against his.

The movement sends a jolt of pleasure through you, the cum inside you making everything slicker, easier. You do it again, more confidently this time, watching Caleb’s eyes darken as you take control.

“Pips,” he warns, but there’s no real admonishment in his voice—just a strained desire. “If you keep doing that—“

You grin, rolling your hips again. “What? You’ll what?”

His answer is cut short as his cock suddenly slips free, the sudden emptiness making you gasp. Cum, both his and yours, dribbles down your thighs.

“Shit,” Caleb says, looking down at the mess. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

You pout, turning in his arms to face him fully. Your hands slide up his chest, feeling the rapid thundering of his heart beneath your palms. It’s racing almost as fast as yours. You press closer, your still-sensitive body hyperaware of every point of contact between you.

“I wasn’t finished,” you murmur against his collarbone.

Caleb’s laugh rumbles through his chest. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “You were being very distracting.”

You smile, your fingers tracing patterns on his skin. “Good distracting or bad distracting?”

“Very, very good distracting,” he assures you, his hand coming up to cup your face. “But maybe we should clean up before—“

But you’re already moving, one hand sliding down his stomach to wrap around his cock.

He’s still half-hard, responsive to your touch as you give him a few experimental strokes. Your other hand continues its journey, sliding around to his lower back, then lower still, fingers brushing the curve of his ass.

Caleb goes very still. “Pips,” he says, a warning in his voice. “What are you—“

You cut him off with a kiss, your tongue sweeping into his mouth as your hand squeezes his ass. He makes a muffled sound of surprise, his own hands coming to rest uncertainly on your waist.

You break the kiss just long enough to whisper, “My turn,” against his lips before diving back in.

Your hand continues its exploration, one finger tracing the cleft of his ass, searching for—

There. The small, puckered hole that you’ve wondered about but never dared to touch. You circle it with your fingertip, feeling Caleb tense against you.

“Pips,” he says again, his voice strained. “I don’t think—“

But it’s too late. Your finger, slick with a mixture of your cum and his, pushes forward, the tip breaching the tight ring of muscle. Caleb makes a choked sound against your mouth, his body going rigid.

You pull back slightly, concerned. “Not comfortable?” you ask, ready to withdraw.

He shakes his head, his eyes dark. “No, it’s just—“ He stops, swallowing hard. “No one’s ever—“

Understanding dawns. This is new for him too, maybe even newer than it was for you.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” you say, echoing his earlier words. Then, before he can respond, you push your finger in a little deeper, crooking it slightly to search for—

“Fuck!” The word tears from his throat as you brush against his prostate, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. “What was—“

You do it again, more deliberately this time, watching his face as pleasure washes over it. “That’s your prostate,” you explain, unable to keep the smugness from your voice. “Feels good, right?”

He nods frantically, beyond words now as you continue to stroke that spot inside him. Your other hand works his cock in counterpoint, establishing a rhythm that has him panting, his forehead dropping to rest on your shoulder.

“That’s it,” you encourage, feeling powerful in a way you never have before. “Let go for me, Caleb. Cum for me.”

He shakes his head against your shoulder. “Can’t,” he manages. “Too soon, after—“

But his body betrays him, his cock hardening fully in your hand, precum leaking copiously as you continue your assault. You speed up your movements, watching in fascination as Caleb comes completely undone.

This man who’s always been so in control, now trembling in your arms.

“I’m going to—“ he starts, then cuts off with a groan as his release hits him. His cum spills over your hand, warm and plentiful, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop, not when he’s making those delicious broken sounds against your neck.

And then something changes. The warmth on your hand increases, becomes wetter, and you realize with a shock that Caleb is—

“Oh god,” he moans, mortification evident in his voice. “I’m sorry, I’m—“

But it’s too late. The pleasure has overwhelmed him completely, his body responding in the most basic way as he continues to urinate, the warm liquid running down your hand to drip onto the floor between you.

You’re dripping wet, and it’s not just from the mess he’s made. There’s something fucking hot about seeing him like this.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, your movements gentling but not stopping. “It’s just your body. It’s just us.”

He makes a strangled sound that might be a laugh. “Just us,” he agrees, his voice rough. “Just you reducing me to—fuck—“

You carefully withdraw your finger, sensing he’s reached his limit.

Immediately, his arms tighten around you, holding you close as his breathing slowly returns to normal. You can feel the heat of his blush against your neck, the slight tremble in his muscles as the aftershocks of pleasure, and probably embarrassment, run through him.

After a moment, he pulls back slightly, not quite meeting your eyes. “I should, um. We should probably—“

“Clean up?” you supply helpfully, unable to keep the smile from your voice.

He nods, finally looking at you. You lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I think,” you say when you pull back, “that a bath is in order. For both of us.”

“A bath,” he agrees, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Together?”

You nod, suddenly shy as if you weren’t quite literally in him just seconds ago. “Together.”

He smiles before bending to lift you into his arms. You yelp in surprise, your arms automatically winding around his neck.

“What are you doing?” you demand, though you’re already grinning.

“Taking you to the bathroom,” he says matter-of-factly, already carrying you down the hallway. “Since someone decided to make a mess of us both.”

You laugh, resting your head against his shoulder. “I seem to recall you participating quite enthusiastically.”

“That,” he agrees, pushing the bathroom door open with his foot, “I definitely did.” He sets you down carefully beside the tub, his hands lingering on your waist. “Ready for round two?”

Refer to Party RSVP

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