Twilight's Hair

You’re still obsessed with them, years later. 

Even when he doesn’t understand why, staring at the mirror in the early morning or late night, trying to make sense of what made the small dots on his face endearing to you when to him it was just an insecurity. Brows furrowed, lips turned down as he judged his own appearance. 

He hears your footsteps before he sees you. The soft, familiar manner of your feet on the floor– something he could recognize anywhere. You were looking for something in the bedroom, with the way you were opening and closing drawers like you were on a mission. 

When you open the door to the bathroom, your voice echoing against the tiles, he didn’t move from his place in front of the mirror. “Caleb, have you seen my eyeliner? The new one that I just got this week?” 

Your reflection appears behind him, searching around the bathroom, still in his hoodie and when your gaze lands on him, you see the small flicker in his gaze. 

You frown. “What are you doing?” 

“Nothing.” He mumbled, a bit too quickly than he hoped. 

Your eyes narrow immediately.

Caleb looks away first.

The silence stretches for a moment. It's the silence that exists between two people that know each other too well, and in the way you stare at him through the mirror, Caleb knew you always clocked him. 

Your arms cross over your chest, and he avoids your gaze, fixing it on anywhere but your reflection. The sink, the faucet– and the eyeliner you were looking for hidden behind the toothbrush cup. 

That alone tells you enough about what he was doing in front of the mirror, and you sigh. Quietly. “Caleb.”

“Mhm?”

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing.” 

Your frown deepens. His gaze moves to you for only a split second, before you catch him looking at his own reflection. It’s a short moment, but you could see the way he looked at the freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose. Then it clicks, and your expressions soften. “Oh.” 

His jaw tightens, and he avoids your soft gaze again. 

The silence that follows is heavier than the last one. It’s not heavy, nor uncomfortable. But vulnerable in a way that Caleb doesn’t let himself be around you too often. 

Because he is supposed to be the strong one. The protector. 

And to him, it’s stupid that this measly negative thought on his own features is making him this way. 

"They're still there." His voice comes out quieter than expected.

You blink. "What?"

"The freckles."

For a second, you simply stare at him. Then you almost laugh.

Not because it's funny. But because of course that's what had him standing in front of the mirror at six in the morning looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "They've been there your entire life, baby."

"I know."

"So why are you surprised?"

"I'm not surprised."

"You seem surprised." 

He shoots you a look that makes you smile. He groans, just as you laugh. “There you are.”

“What?” Caleb frowns.

“You’re finally looking at me.”

He pauses, and the soft look in your eyes makes his ears turn pink. Your smile only widens as you step towards him. Your arms wrap around his waist, and you peer through the side to the mirror, humming. Caleb relaxes against you, moving you until you’re standing next to him in the mirror. Your eyes meet his through the mirror, then it drifts downwards to his freckles. 

There are more than most people notice. Tiny constellations scattered over warm skin.

Some  are darker than others. Some are barely visible unless sunlight hits them just right.

You have every single one memorized. A fact Caleb would never recover from if you told him.

Unfortunately for him, you decide honesty is important in relationships: "I think I know at least twenty-seven of them."

His eyes widen. “What?”

“Twenty-seven.” You tilt your head up at him to look more closely at his face. His eyes are widened slightly, brows furrowed, voice pitched slightly higher in disbelief. “You counted?”

“Maybe.” You shrug.

“You counted.”

“Maybe.”

“You;re insane.” 

You grin, and lean up to peck his cheeks. “I know.”

Caleb lets out a mix of a laugh and a huff. His ears are completely red now, the flush spreading to his cheeks as he shuts his eyes at the absurdity of you counting his freckles. 

When he opens them again, he catches you staring. Again. 

It’s not like you hide it, at this point. 

His voice drops into a mutter. “I don’t get it.”

“Hm?” You meet his gaze. 

“I don’t get why you like them so much.” 

You tilt your head and watch him carefully. You watch the uncertainty hiding beneath his expression, the remnants of old words. Old comments. Old wounds. Things said carelessly by people who probably forgot them the moment they spoke, but they were things that Caleb had quietly carried for years.

You reach up, and your fingers brush against his cheek. Gentle. Careful. 

As though touching something precious.

Because to you, he is.

Your thumb glides over the bridge of his nose. Over the freckles resting there.

Caleb's breath catches, and you smile softly.

"Because they're yours."

His eyes flicker. 

You continue before he can interrupt. "I don't like them because they're perfect." His gaze remains fixed on yours as you continue, your fingers still on his skin, tracing lines between his freckles. "I like them because when I think of you, I think of them. When I picture your face, I picture your freckles." You laugh quietly, "You know, when I was younger, I used to think they looked like stars."

His expression falters.

And you know you've won the moment he looks away. Because Caleb only looks away when he's overwhelmed.

"I still do."

His throat moves and Caleb looks back at you. Your other hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him a bit closer so you could trace more of the freckles. "They make you look like you."

You cup his face. His hands immediately find your waist, like its instinct to him. And really, it is.

"There isn't a version of Caleb in my head without them."

Your smile softens.

"And honestly? You'd be less cute without them."

"Don't."

"You would."

He grumbles your name.

"You absolutely would."

"Stop."

"I think I'd cry."

"You would not cry."

"I'd mourn."

Caleb drops his forehead against your shoulder with a groan. A genuine one this time, one not out of frustration. Just hopeless, because just by your hands on his face, and your sweet, embarrassing words, he has been completely and utterly defeated by you.

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him, and his arms tighten around you immediately.

The bathroom falls quiet again. But this silence feels different.

Comfortable– Warm.

After a while, you feel him nudge his face against your neck, followed by his muffled voice."Twenty-seven?"

You burst out laughing.

"I knew you were still thinking about that."

"Twenty-seven?"

"Actually, it might be thirty."

Caleb makes a sound that suggests he's reconsidering every life choice that led him here.

You only smile wider and gently move his face up so you could press a kiss against his temple. Then to his cheeks – like you were kissing every single dot on his face.

Until his face is burning red enough to rival the sunrise peeking through the bathroom window.

The funny thing is, Caleb never truly learns to love his freckles.

Not the way you do. Not the way you look at them, like they're something worth admiring.

He can't rival the way you love it.

But over the years, he slowly stops hiding them. Stops treating it like something wrong on his face.

Because whenever he catches himself doing it, he remembers the way you look at him.

Like every freckle is something precious.

Like every single one belongs exactly where it should.

And Caleb stops frowning at the sight of them in the mirror.

Caleb is seated in a chair when he locks you in a full nelson. Your legs are up by your head, knees pressed into your chest, and eyes are rolled into the back of your head. His breath is heavy in your ear, panting with exertion. You're delirious, going crazy with the heat and pleasure coursing through you. His long, thick cock pushes in and out of your wet, swollen folds. 

Squish, squish, squish. 

Every so often, you can’t help the involuntary, full-body twitch you make when Caleb hits just the right spot, which only makes him further tighten his grip on you. His fingers dig into the supple skin of your thighs, emphasizing how you're completely at his mercy. Every thrust into your pussy bangs right up against your cervix.

Eyes half lidded, you keen when you see Zayne stepping up. Zayne strokes himself, shiny globs of pre-cum coating his fat cock as he lines himself right up against Caleb. 

"Alright," Caleb breathes in approval. "Hope you’re ready, pipsqueak." Caleb stops thrusting for a second to let Zayne line up against you. You whine as Zayne tries to squeeze himself into you, but it’s to no avail; his cock sadly pushes to the side instead. You're too tight for two; Caleb is already stretching you to your limit. You can't help but feel guilty at disappointing Zayne. 

“‘Msorry,” you mutter in a haze.

"That's okay," Caleb reassures you. "We'll just get her wetter. You'll fit right in, Zayne." At that, Caleb's hand reaches down to play with your clit. You moan as electricity climbs up your spine, but all your sounds are cut short as Zayne leans down for your lips. His kiss is gentle at first but then evolves into all tongue, until all you can think about is the brush of his tongue against yours. You jolt when you feel Caleb's fingers reach further down, pushing right into your pussy alongside his cock, and abruptly break the kiss with Zayne. 

When Zayne peers down, all he sees is a little nasty slut. Your cheeks are tinged pink and lips red from the kiss, eyes unfocused. Your mouth parts as you pant from the intrusion, eyebrows furrowed. Caleb's fingers stretch you wider. First one, then two, then three, making enough room just for Zayne.

"I think she's ready," Zayne says after a while. You barely hear him, but you know that you're so wet you're practically dripping down Caleb's balls to the chair. This time, when Zayne lines up and pushes in, it's a success. Both men groan at the tightness clamping down on them, closing their eyes at how good you're wrapped around them. 

Your mouth drops open in a silent cry. You are so incredibly stuffed, more than you ever have been and ever thought you could be, and that was just Zayne's tip. Your mind goes white as he pushes in. You don’t even realize how loud you’re moaning until both of them rub your arms and shush you. They whisper just how good you are.

"You're perfect, pipsqueak, you're amazing taking both of us."

"The very best. Look. Look at how you're stretched around both of us." Zayne's hand on your cheek prompts you to open your eyes. You can't see well from your angle, but you believe him. Your cunt is quivering with the effort to hold and accommodate the both of them.

When your breath evens out, Zayne pushes in further until he’s in to the hilt. You and Caleb groan as he moves. Your head falls against Caleb's shoulder as your back arches.

"Oh fuck,” you curse in disbelief. “Fuck. I can’t believe you’re both in my pussy.”

Holding your ankles above your head, Zayne pulls out slowly before thrusting back in. He remarks at how wet you are, how you're starting to cream with his movements. Below you, Caleb starts his own shallow movements. 

Sometimes, Caleb pushes in when Zayne pulls out. Other times, they thrust in at the same time, making you see stars. The stretch is so good, even the slight pain as your walls flutter around them feels like ecstasy. 

Caleb kisses your neck and shoulder as your head lols against him. His fingers return to your clit and sometimes up to your nipples, pinching and squeezing and pulling. You hardly understand how you got here in the first place, but you’re so glad you are. You wish you discovered this pleasure sooner, because the ecstasy coursing through you is practically otherworldly.

When Caleb’s hands brush against your nipples one too many times, you start falling over the edge. Your back arches against Caleb's chest and even Zayne's movements stutter as you clamp down harder against the two cocks, but their pace continues to be relentless, working you through your orgasm. When you come back down, Caleb is cursing against your ear. He can hardly take it any longer. The way you clenched around him and the way Zayne's cock is rubbing against his own is too much, and Caleb comes deep inside you with a groan. You feel his cock twitch as his cum paints your walls.

"Fuck," Zayne swears. His pace doesn’t stop, but you can tell that he’s close, too. Caleb’s release only serves to further slick his way as Zayne chases his own release. He closes his eyes and you watch the graceful arch of his neck as leans back, the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. With a few more pumps inside you, Zayne comes, his fluids mixing in with yours and Caleb's. 

When both of them soften and slip out, Zayne gently puts your legs back down. Their cum oozes out of you and it suddenly hits you that if you got pregnant now, you wouldn't even know whose baby it is.

Caleb moves out from under you to stand beside Zayne, but you remain lying on the sheets, catching your breath. Suddenly, you hear Caleb whistle and feel his fingers between your legs. He parts your folds and grazes your clit with his fingers. You practically cry when he rubs at your over-sensitive clit.

"Look at that, fucked wide open and leaking. You're gonna have us in you for days. You'd like that though, wouldn't you? You're our little cum slut. Tomorrow or even a few hours from now, you'll be begging us to fill you up again."

Your face goes red at Caleb's words because you know it’s true. You want to hide your face behind your hands but you can only cover yourself with one of them; Zayne's managed to entwine his hand with one of yours.

"Say it,” Zayne prompts. “Tell us how much you like this."

"I–” Gosh, you can’t believe you’re going to say this. But the words spill out of your mouth anyway. “I love this. Please f-fuck me again; I want to be filled with your cum. Please fuck my pussy again."

Caleb smirks and rummages in the night stand for something. You don't know what he’s looking for until you see it's a black permanent marker. He uncaps it and lifts your legs up. The felt tip presses against the back of your thighs and you realize with humiliation what’s happening. Like in the pornos, he's making the first two strokes of the character 正. You burn up with embarrassment.

"We have to finish the character, pipsqueak."

You gulp.

✯¸.•´¨*•✿ ✿•*¨`•.¸✯

“And the yogurt was on 35 percent discount! Caleb i’m sure they’re probably expired because what the fuck-“ Caleb was giggling.

You froze.

That was your voice.

“-because who makes this high of a discount on FOOD, Caleb?”

Caleb dissolved into another fit of laughter.

That was definitely your voice.

Your voice from more than a month ago when you went grocery shopping before exams.

An entropy problem sat open in front of him, two pages of calculations already filled in.

The latest line of symbols slanted crookedly across the paper as Caleb’s shoulders shook with another laugh.

He was ruining his own homework because of a voice note about discounted yogurt.

You waited. Not because you wanted to, but because you didn’t know what to do.

What to say.

“Caleb you seriously should’ve come here with me because i am LOST”

He murmured the words as they played over the phone speaker, his pen spun between his fingers as he rocked left and right.

The voice note ended. His pen halted between his fingers, and you could hear a tiny “oh no” as he scrolled down the screen and pressed play.

It was another voice note.

Of yours.

“The teacher assigned 9 chapters for the exam. NINE!” He tapped his pen against the sheet, muttering a passionate “NINE” with your recording like it was his favorite lyric.

“Caleb this is such depressing news i really need you here right now”

He replayed the exact snippet once.

Twice.

Thrice.

He was about to rewind the voice note to the same sentence once more when you finally spoke up.

“Are you okay by any chance?” You stood up, stepping into his view.

He grabbed onto the paper like it could brace him against the embarrassment and quickly turned off his phone, head snapping upwards and his eyes wider than you’ve ever seen.

“Holy fucking shit y/n you could’ve knocked or something.” He huffed, acting like his entire life’s worth of privacy had been breached.

“Why would i knock walking into my own place?” You sat down beside him, and he stiffened as he looked away to face the couch instead of you.

“I literally could’ve been,” he flailed with his arms summoning any thought, “i dont know- jerking off or something.”

“Would’ve been less embarrassing than knowing a message about discounted yogurt word for word but okay.” You side eyed him.

“Also, nothing I haven’t seen you do before.” You softly jabbed him with your elbow.

His freckles disappeared into the blush that devoured pale skin, and he gripped the edge of the table with both hands. “Shut up already.” He refused to look at you.

Something in your chest pulled tight, but you swallowed it down anyway. For the longest time, you would find yourself mindlessly staring at his pictures when he wasn’t home.

Or walking into his room just to get a familiar whiff of his warm scent.

But you wouldn’t admit that.

Not to yourself.

Not to him.

You chuckled. “Gosh, you’re such a disaster.” You supported yourself up, and threw the yellow bag of sweets above long forgotten books.

The ocean in mid-July was your favorite scent. The air hung warm and salty, thick enough to cling to your skin and sink into your clothes. The moment you stepped out of your car, it wrapped around you, washing you in its familiar comfort. For a moment, the years seemed to fold in on themselves—you were a child again, climbing out of your grandmother’s old car into a summer that felt endless, the sea waiting just beyond the cliff edge and tall grass.

Then the moment passed, and you were left standing in the same salt-washed air, your chest tight with the bittersweet weight of how much had changed.

Grandma was gone now. And after her passing, you hadn’t been able to make yourself return. You pulled your suitcase from the back of the car, swallowing against the ache crawling up your throat. You willed your feet to move up the old, familiar cobbled driveway.

The cottage was exactly the same as it had been then. The same furniture rested in the same places, and the windows still welcomed in that warm, honeyed afternoon light. It even smelled the same…

Everything was as it had always been, and yet it felt different now—like a lovely shell left behind, still full of beauty, but emptied of the soul that had once made it feel alive.

Old wooden floors creaked beneath your feet with warm familiarity as you made your way up to your childhood bedroom. Nothing was different here either. Your bed was still made with the quilt your grandmother had sewn for you when you were only a little girl. The window overlooking the ocean still opened with that same gentle creak, and a cool, salty breeze swept through at once, billowing the curtains around you like sails. From your window, the beach unfurled below in a long ribbon of gold, cradled by the grassy cliffs that lined the coast.

The shore called to you with an aching sweetness, luring you with memories of sun-warmed sand, cool waves, and the fine mist of sea spray against your skin.

But it would have to wait…

The old house exhaled around you, seemingly happy to have some company. For now you unpacked your things with a listless sigh, working slowly. You stood after tucking the last of your folded clothes into your old dresser and decided to walk around, trailing your fingers along the faded blue wallpaper as you went.

The swelling ache of your memories filled the empty spaces as you wandered, slowly passing by the old, familiar rooms…

Her sewing room passed on your left. Where you laid at her feet for hours as she made clothes for your dolls and endless quilts. Next was her bedroom. Beaded curtains made of glittering sea glass still hung, still cast rainbow fractals along the walls and floors… for a split second you saw yourself as a child, dancing in the colorful shadows as they swayed with the breeze.

You choked on a little sob, suddenly fleeing downstairs to escape the heaviness.

A quick trip to town seemed to be in order. You needed fresh air—and some essentials from the little mart anyways. Without giving it a second thought, you snatched your keys off the hangar by the door and dashed to your car. The stiff ocean breeze caught in your hair and pulled it loose from its clip before you could shut the door…

Far down the coastline, something else from your past was stirring, drawn from the dark depths. For six long years, he had kept the cottage at the farthest edge of his vision, watching and waiting for even the faintest sign. Then, at last, it came—the sudden, unmistakable glimmer of light from your window when you opened it to the sea, flickering like a beacon across the water.

It set his cold heart racing.

At once, he surged toward the shoreline, swift and silent through the dark depths, slowing only when he reached the turbulent surf. He lifted himself carefully from the water and blinked into the light, clearing his vision as he searched for the slightest movement.

Was it really you, after all this time?

Evening crept up on you fast after you returned from town. Even with how quickly you unpacked and put everything away, night had already settled deep by the time you stepped onto the back porch. You leaned back against the door frame and looked down the winding path to the shore, your thoughts lingering on the risk of it.

Grandma had always warned you about going to the beach after dark—about the strange, things that drifted in from the water, the stories of disappearing wanderers drawn in by the moon. It was the kind of story told to wayward children, meant to keep them safe in their beds once night had fallen. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, unable to resist the soft, aching pull of the shore despite her gentle warnings playing in your mind.

Slowly, you padded barefoot across the wooden patio, its white paint worn thin beneath your feet—descended the narrow path down the cliff, moving carefully, savoring the familiar hum of anticipation that rose with every step. The trail glowed beneath the pale wash of the full moon, silvering the grass. The entire outside world was swallowed up by the deafening roar of the surf as you neared the shoreline.

Every now and then, the wind shifted, carrying the faintest trace of your scent over the water, and each breath of it left him reeling. Sweet enough to stir something old and hungry inside him—something that had slept uneasily for far too long. You were here. Truly here. After all these years, you had really come back to him.

He had waited for so long…

The longing that seized him was nearly unbearable. He needed to see you. To hear your voice spill out over the waves again. To know the shape of your face had not changed so much that he would not know it. His song hummed restlessly in his throat, aching to rise.

There was only one way to bring you closer. One way he knew would reach into you, curl through you, and draw you helplessly toward the sea.

The rising tide had swallowed the shoreline completely, waves gnawing at the worn, rocky path until the beach was lost beneath dark, restless water. You sighed softly, disappointed that you would have to wait until morning. But this was lovely too. After the punishing July heat, the cold air and salt spray felt luxurious against your skin.

You lingered there for a moment, bathed in silver moonlight, while the ocean tossed and spat below, churning only a few feet from where you stood. It stretched toward you again and again, reaching up the rocks. But no matter how it swelled and pulled it couldn’t touch you.

Then, just as you were about to head back, you caught a faint glimmer beyond the surf. You went still, narrowing your eyes against the dark, trying to make out the shape. There—another brief flash of movement on the rocks.

Your breath caught in your throat. In an instant, the soft moonlit trance of the shore was broken by the sudden, prickling certainty that something out there was looking back at you. You retreated slowly from the water’s edge, one careful step at a time, slowly—so as not to draw its attention fully on you.

It’s nothing, you tried to reason with yourself. Probably just a bird perched on the rocks… during high tide… at night…

You turned and hurried back up the trail once you were a safe distance from the shore, that strange, prickling sensation following close at your heels all the way to the cottage. Only after you slipped inside and latched the door behind you did you breathe out a small, shaky sigh of relief.

He watched your bedroom light spill out across the dark from his place on the rocks. It was you.

Your face had changed, though not by much. Time had touched you gently. You were taller now, older, your features no longer those of the girl he remembered, and yet still so unmistakably you. And your scent—your sweet, familiar scent—was unchanged, still carrying that maddening warmth that made his cold, slippery body clench.

He could lure you back to the shore. He could sing, and you would come to him. He could pull you into his arms at last and feel your body where he had imagined it for years. The thought woke his ancient hunger with a flare. How sweet would you taste, how warm would your soul be as it slipped down his throat? He winced, straining against the instinct even as it coiled tighter through him.

With a sudden dive, he disappeared beneath the dark, swirling water, as if the cold depths might break the spell you had cast over him. The sea rushed around him, hissing against his skin, but it did nothing to quiet the hunger…

It was already warm when your feet touched the floor, the breeze drifting through the open windows doing little to ease the heat from your skin. Grandma had never bothered with air conditioning, and truthfully, it was only ever unbearable for a month or two each summer. With a quiet sigh, you carried your iced coffee out to the deck and watched the sunrise bleed slowly over the water.

The only real relief this time of year was down by the shore, tucked into the cool shade where the cliffs broke open into the sea. A couple miles down the beach, reachable only at low tide, a cave waited along the coastline. You had spent whole summers there as a girl, wandering through tide pools, filling your pockets with shells, and whatever else the ocean was willing to give up.

Smiling faintly, you reached beneath your shirt and drew your necklace into the light, turning it between your fingers.

A large pearl rested in its gold setting, glowing and luminous in the early morning sun.

There had been other things before it.

Small, strange treasures that always seemed to appear as though the ocean had set them out for you—an ancient compass, ruined by seawater and time, a large conch shell placed carefully in plain sight. You had never thought to question it back then. The pearl had been the last gift, found the summer you were nineteen.

After that, life had pulled you sharply away from this place. Grandma was suddenly gone, and whatever magic had once lingered here seemed to draw inward, going dormant and unanswered.

For a moment, you cradled the pearl in your palm and looked out at the glittering line of the sea, feeling that old, nameless curiosity wake softly inside you.

The wind came hard against the cliffside, lifting your dress and teasing your hair into tangles. You laughed under your breath and caught your hat before it could slip away while your old straw bag swung empty at your side, ready for whatever the shore might offer. That old, familiar excitement quickened your steps until the cave appeared at last.

It felt smaller when you stepped inside. As a child, this place had seemed vast as a castle, alive with hidden corners and secrets waiting just for you. Now it was only a cave again—still beautiful, but achingly ordinary beneath the weight of memory.

You trailed your fingers along the slick stone at the entrance and glanced up at the holes in the high ceiling, where pale sunlight streamed through and poured itself over the sand and scattered tide pools.

The ocean’s waves echoed through the cave, washing over you in soft, living sound as you slipped off your shoes and dipped your toes into a shallow pool, green-slick with algae.

You remembered singing to the tiny sea creatures trapped there, offering them what comfort you could until the tide came back for them. Nothing ever remained in this place for long. By the next day, it would all be swept clean, the old lives carried off and new little souls left behind in their place.

You leaned closer to the shallow pool where a single starfish clung stubbornly to the stone and, almost without thinking, let a tune drift from your lips—a wandering little melody, soft and sweet and half-remembered, the kind of thing you might have sung as a child.

The cave carried it strangely.

Your voice brushed along the walls and came back to you transformed, warbling with the breathing pull of the sea.

You laughed under your breath at yourself and rose, moving farther in.

The deeper parts of the cave had always felt different. Far from sunlight, some passages short and narrow. The air cooled the farther you went, and the pools grew darker, deeper, their surfaces black in places where the narrow beams of sunlight couldn’t reach. The tide hissed somewhere beyond the bend ahead, water slipping through some narrow channel in the rock.

Your fingers trailed along the cave wall, singing softly as you went, following the smooth curves cut there by years and years of saltwater. There were still little pockets in the stone where you used to tuck away treasures—shells with perfect pink mouths, bits of blue glass, smooth stones you had believed were lucky.

A faint splash sounded ahead.

You stopped mid-note.

For a moment, the cave went very still around you. Only the soft drip of water and the hushing sea and the quickened sound of your own breathing.

“Hello?” you called softly, straightening.

No answer came.

You told yourself it was probably nothing. Water shifting. A gull that had somehow found its way in. A seal, maybe. Though the thought of a seal this deep inside the cave made a strange little shiver travel across your skin.

You stepped carefully around the bend anyway.

The pool there was larger than the others, a basin carved into the stone, wide and deep enough that the dark water within it looked almost ink-black. Sunlight from a crack high above spilled weakly across the surface.

At first, you thought the shape half-submerged against the far wall was just another rock.

Then it moved.

You gasped and stumbled back a step so quickly your heel skidded on the wet stone.

A man—or something shaped like one—was hunched over the edge of the basin.

One arm braced against the rocky lip, he kept his head bowed as though catching his breath. Wet hair, darkened by seawater, clung to his skin in dripping strands. The rest of him disappeared into the dark water, his shape broken apart by ripples and shifting light.

Your heart kicked hard against your ribs.

For one wild, dizzy second, you thought he must be hurt. Shipwrecked somehow. Dragged in by the tide and stranded when the water fell away.

“Oh my God—”

The words slipped out before you could stop them.

His head snapped up, and your breath left you all at once.

He was unnervingly beautiful, in a way that reminded you of the deep sea—strange, and made for the dark. His face was too still, his gaze too bright as it fixed on you with a quiet, terrible certainty. Your heart pounded against your ribs, every instinct warning you to turn away. But you couldn’t. His eyes held yours, glowing faintly in the dimness, and some soft, perilous pull within them coaxed you one step closer.

When he finally spoke, his voice reached you strangely—warbled by the water and the cave, smoothed into something unearthly as it echoed off the stone.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard your voice.” He sighed contentedly, basking in the sound of you so close to him.

You halted, your breath snagging in your throat.

“M-my voice?” you stammered.

He only hummed, folding his arms atop the rocky edge of the basin and resting his chin on them as though he had all the patience in the world. His eyes gleamed. A small, almost affectionate smile curved his mouth.

“I’ve missed your songs.”

Cold swept through you so suddenly it left you motionless, your body locked around it, too frozen even to blink.

He knew you?

The realization felt like a plunge into icy water. How long? How long had he known you—watched you? Horror rose sharp and dizzying in your chest, braided helplessly with disbelief. Had he seen you here when you were a girl?

“This is my home, you know?”

His eyes gleamed as they traced every flicker of feeling across your face—your shock, your fear, your terrible awe.

“You used to decorate the walls so prettily,” he said, almost to himself, the words touched with fondness. A quiet sigh left him after, weighted by the old memory.

The silence stretched between you, and he let it, patient as the tide.

“Come closer,” he murmured. “Let me see your pretty face.”

His fingers reached toward you across the distance—long and elegant, the delicate webbing between them catching the light as he beckoned. You stared despite yourself, transfixed by his inhuman grace.

“I—”

The word broke apart on your breath. Your thoughts would not hold still long enough to shape into anything useful. Somewhere inside you, instinct screamed to stop, to run, to turn back now—but your feet betrayed you, carrying you one step closer all the same.

He hummed, low and pleased, as you approached. His voice drifted over you like mist rolling in from the sea, softening every sharp edge of thought, leaving your mind hazy and your body pliant.

Above, pale shafts of sunlight spilled over you, turning you almost luminous where you knelt before him. Your scent engulfed him, suffocating his senses until he felt half-drunk on it. His cold heart swelled as your breath touched his skin, warming him like sunlight.

“I’ve missed you terribly, beloved.” His voice trembled with reverence.

Another little gasp tore from your throat.

“B-beloved?” You tried to recoil, but your body would not obey. Your spine refused to stiffen, your limbs stayed soft and heavy as his finger rose to trace the curve of your cheek just beneath your eye. The path of his touch fluttered and pulsed, as though the echo of his heartbeat had been traced beneath your skin.

“Who are you?” you whispered through trembling lips.

He did not answer at once. Instead, he lingered there, watching you as if he meant to commit every detail of this moment to memory. Then, slowly, he sank back into the water. The inky dark curled around him until he vanished from sight, only to rise again a few seconds later.

Carefully, almost reverently, he laid a handful of little treasures along the lip of the pool before you.

You knew them at once.

The perfect shells you used to decorate your castle with. Smooth pebbles, pale and familiar. A few glittering pieces of sea glass.

“I am your chosen,” he said at last, after giving you a long moment to stare at the offerings in stunned silence.

His bright gaze lifted to yours.

“And you,” he murmured softly, “are mine.”

He smiled again and lifted a hand to the pearl at your throat, cradling it with a touch so cool and careful it made you shiver. He turned it lightly between his fingers, watching the pale surface catch the light.

“You accepted my offering. You wear it warm against your skin,” he said, in the patient tone of someone explaining something simple to a child. “And I keep your gifts in my chambers, close to me. I do not even let the ocean touch them. We are promised to one another.”

“What?” you breathed, your gaze dropping helplessly to the pearl in his hand.

He did not answer at once. Instead, he seemed to drift somewhere inward, his attention caught on the shimmer of the pearl as though it held years of memory inside it.

“I thought to kill you at first, you know.”

He let the pearl slip gently from his grasp, then folded his arms again and settled there with lazy ease, as though he had not just sent your heart plummeting into your stomach.

“But then you sang to the little creatures caught here. You were gentle with them.” His voice softened, his gaze drifting with memory. “You decorated my home so beautifully.”

He sounded almost wistful.

“Surely you meant no harm,” he said, looking back at you with that terrible calm. “Why, then, should I have killed you?”

All you could do was stare, helpless and breathless, as his glowing blue eyes dipped to the frantic beat of your pulse at your throat.

“I don’t understand…” you managed at last, your voice thin and unsteady. “What are you?”

Something mischievous flickered in his expression.

“You are a silly human,” he murmured, almost to himself, a soft, amused chuckle escaped him. Then his bright gaze lifted fully to yours. “Most people along this coast know better.”

His eyes held yours, shimmering like sea-glass in sunlight.

“You call us sirens.”

Your heart lurched so violently it nearly choked you, and in an instant the haze he’d woven around your thoughts snapped clean through. He lifted his tail from the dark water.

It gleamed like the pearl he had given you—large and writhing, a soft milky sheen that shifted with every movement. The fins were almost translucent, delicate as veils until the light struck them and turned them opalescent. He grinned when you stumbled back, sharp teeth catching the light. Your fear spilled into the space between you, cold and unmistakable as it bled through your scent.

His hand lashed out and caught your ankle, cold fingers locking around it with crushing strength. He dragged you back with a sudden, terrifying force, until your feet slid into the freezing water. But he did not pull you under. He stopped there instead, shuddering with effort as he grazed his teeth along the slope of your leg.

“Please,” you choked out, struggling against his grip. “You have to let me go. Here—”

Your hands shook so badly you nearly fumbled the chain as you tore it from your neck and thrust it toward him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, breathless with fear. “I didn’t know this was your home. I didn’t know this belonged to you. Please… take it back.”

The plea quivered apart on your lips.

He stared at the necklace trembling in your hand, clearly heartbroken by the sight. His brows drew together, casting a shadow over his glowering eyes. He took a moment to collect himself, to find the words that would make you stay.

“This cannot be undone,” he murmured at last.

His free hand folded gently over yours, cold enough to chill your skin, and guided the pearl back against your chest with quiet insistence, as though it belonged there more surely than it had ever belonged anywhere else.

“I have waited six long years.” His voice wavered then, agony spilling softly through his words. “I searched these shores for miles and miles. I never left. I have stayed. Waiting for you to come back to me.”

While he spoke, his mouth hovered over your trapped leg, his breath cool against your skin. Then, with a tenderness that only unsettled you more, he nuzzled the warmth of your flesh and pressed his lips to your knee.

“You could not cast me away so easily, could you?”

His eyes had gone pale and glassy, blurred with something that looked horribly like grief. Tears slipped over his lashes and fell from his chin in silvery streams, each droplet hardening into a tiny pearl before hitting the stone with a delicate little ‘tink’ sound.

For one fragile second, guilt pierced you, but fear broke through it just as quickly.

You jerked against his hold again, trying to wrench yourself free, but his grip never loosened. He only drew you closer.

“If I could only make you understand…” he lamented, undeterred by your struggling.

He hummed again, low and soothing, he knew no other way to calm you. The sound slipped into your mind like warm water, melting down the sharp edges of your fear. Your breath caught as it settled over you, quieting the frantic hammer of your heart and turning your limbs heavy in his grasp.

“Are you going to kill me?” you whispered at last, going still as the question left your lips, as though some part of you had already surrendered itself to whatever answer he chose to give.

Slowly, he withdrew his face from your leg.

He tipped his head back to look at you through the sweep of his lashes. His glowing purple eyes were soft with adoration, so open and earnest it made your breath catch.

“I could never harm you, beloved,” he whispered. “How could you even say such a thing?”

The words should have comforted you. Instead, they only deepened the chill already wrapped around your spine.

“I could have killed you easily back then,” he murmured, the pain of betrayal shining clearly in his gaze. “I could have let you drown when the waves caught you off guard all those years ago.”

You gasped.

The memory rose all at once—the summer you were seventeen, the way a sudden wave had crashed over you before you could brace for it, how the water had seized you and dragged you helplessly out to sea. You remembered the blind panic, the violent, endless tumble, the terrifying certainty that you were going to die.

But you hadn’t.

You had woken on the beach instead, coughing seawater into the sand, dazed and shaking, never understanding how you had escaped the sea.

Now he looked at you as though the answer had always been obvious.

“You are everything precious to me,” he said softly. “Everything beautiful. And I wont lose you again.”

A shuddering sigh left him as his mouth grazed the tender flesh of your thigh. He seemed half-drunk on the warmth rising from your skin. Slowly, he drew his lips back, exposing the sharp rows of his teeth, and pulled your scent through them as though savoring something sweet, letting it rest on his tongue and curl along his palate.

You could only watch as his eyes rolled back for a moment, a soft hum of pleasure vibrating out of him before his gaze found yours again, blurred now by a searing hunger. Then, with a terrible gentleness, he reached up and cupped your jaw in his frigid hand, guiding your face slowly toward him.

And still, you did not move away.

You could only stare as it happened, held fast in his gaze like something already caught in a trap. His breath brushed across your face like a cool ocean breeze, fresh and salty, his lips hovering just above yours, drawing you in with the steady pull of a current.

Your eyes widened as his mouth opened. His jaw unhinged, baring rows of those sharp, gleaming teeth. Something deep and instinctive inside you answered. Your own lips parted, your delicate pink tongue slipping out as though to taste the charged air between you. You felt it gathering there at once—a pressure without shape, something vast and formless filling your mouth as he offered it to you.

His cold, rushing heartbeat. The glowing warmth of his affection. The terrible ache of loss. His fear. His loneliness and longing.

You swallowed it all without understanding how, taking in the full, aching force of what he pressed into you. His devotion slipped through your body like lava slipping slowly into the ocean, seeping into your core—searing you, heating your skin like a fever.

Your eyes snapped open as he let out a broken moan, his head bowing beneath his restraint. Hot tears spilled over your lashes as his love poured through you. It filled your chest, your throat, sunk deep into your bones, tangling together until you couldn’t tell what was his and what was yours.

You reached for him helplessly, fingers slipping into his hair, soft and wet beneath your touch. For a moment, the ocean seemed to hold its breath with you.

Then you drew his mouth up to yours.

You gasped against him as bright, searing currents of his want rushed through you, white-hot and pulsing until your whole body trembled with it.

You felt him rise from the water like some great sea-creature from an old story, guiding you back in the cradle of his powerful arms. He lowered you gently onto the rocky floor, and though the stone should have felt cold beneath you, you could barely register it through the feverish heat burning under your skin.

You blinked up into the light spilling through the cracks in the ceiling, pale shafts of noon sun pouring down in molten gold. For a moment, the whole cave seemed to sway around you—salt air, rushing water, the distant cry of gulls beyond the cliffs. Then his mouth found you again, soft and reverent, trailing slow kisses along your skin as if he meant to worship every inch of you he had been denied for all those years.

A wanton moan flitted from your lips as his pleasure crashed against yours. His frigid mouth kissed lower and lower, pulled by the intoxicating aroma of your arousal and the intense heat thrumming between your legs. You felt the hard tug of your dress being yanked, the fabric shredding apart in his grasp.

A cold, slimy muscle pressed wetly against your clothed sex, followed by a rumbling groan. His tongue, you realized. It wriggled in a frenzy against the dripping entrance of your lips, straining against the drenched barrier of your panties, desperate to breach the heat behind them.

You reached down to help, showing him that they could come off. He seemed awed by this, hypnotized as you sat up to pull them off your legs. You then scooted forward, perching yourself on the lip of the basin, dipping your legs into the chilly water on either side of his face.

The sight laid before him was delicious—warm and glistening like a jewel. His eyes met yours for a moment, afraid that this might be another dream, that you might still crumble into glittering gold and fade off into the breeze.

You pressed your hand to his face and he turned into it, nuzzling further into your warmth. His eyes met yours again, then slowly trailed down, marveling at the way your naked body glowed in the warm beam of sunlight overhead. He felt your sudden, burning need for him to touch you, felt your pulse thrumming just above his lips.

He obliged.

Your mouth fell open as his tongue split into you, a little surprised by its strength, its size. It completely filled your walls, chilling you to bone with each punching thrust. His eyes rolled back at the taste, the direct heat drenching his tongue, the sensation of your pleasure building with his. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling tight as you gasped for air, already cresting over the edge.

He sank his tongue to the hilt, squirming wildly inside your heat as you clamped down around him—singing your ecstasy in long, stretching moans that bounced off the cold walls of the cave.

He drank you down, dutifully cleaning every last drop. And once there was nothing left to clean off, he would enter you again, his throat vibrating pitifully as he whimpered. By now he was painfully erect, thrusting desperately into nothing. But he couldn’t make himself stop, drowning himself in in the heat of your sex with an unmatched hunger. You could feel his euphoria, absolutely drunk on your shimmering essence. The weight of your scent suffocated him as he forced his tongue deeper, wishing you could swallow him whole.

You lost count of your orgasms, lost count of time as you fell into the trance of your mixed pleasure. It could have been minutes or hours…

The afternoon sun had eventually faded towards evening and he finally released you. His tongue slid out of you with a wet squelch. His chest was heaving, his skin heated beneath your hands,

“I can’t wait any longer, beloved.” He gasped, “Please, let me take you as mine. Let me have you for all this life and the next.” He drew you down from the stone’s edge and into his arms. Cold water rose up around your neck. You gasped at the shock of it, at the feel of his erect length pressing up against your thigh, cold and slimy and soft as he squeezed you to him.

Every line of his body was tight with need, trembling with restraint, but beneath the carnal frenzy, you felt the aching sincerity of him. The fierce devotion swelling in his chest. The terrible, tender certainty with which he held you—something lost to him once and never meant to be lost again.

You kissed him once, then again, pouring all your strange, tangled certainty into him. The fading light floated down and around you as he turned with you slowly in the water—guiding you through soft, endless circles. The sea rocked around you just outside the cave as the last of the golden sunlight slipped across the cracks in the ceiling and faded away.

A misty darkness settled around you.

He was suddenly everywhere, winding around you—his tail wrapping tight around your legs as he turned you gently toward the stone wall, steadying you against its slick edge. His arms bracketed you on either side, sealing your hips to the wall.

He wasted no time, rutting his length into the backs of your thighs, desperately punching a path, throbbing with need as it searched for your tight pulsing heat.

You whined, shoving your hips back in an attempt to help him. Something large, much larger than you were expecting, with a bulbous head squeezed through your lips, gently prodding your tight entrance gently—over and over—until finally your warm heat parted enough to suck him in. He yelped, bucking forward wildly before stilling, catching his breath with you for a second. He was huge and slick and nearly bulging through your stomach, the painfully thick head of him stretching you deeply, squelching up into your cervix. He hissed through his teeth, pulling back.

“I’m sorry my love, I don’t wish to hurt you.” You were lost to him already, head lolling back as you drowned in his pleasure mixed with your pain.

“Don’t stop.” You hummed, rocking back against him, chasing that searing, white hot pressure in your belly, flooding and engorging you. You felt close to bursting, the pressure rising, building like a glowing flame, a burning star rising up through your chest. Your limbs seemed to float away, the light building behind your eyes as you tipped over the edge.

Your head tipped back, mouth thrown open in a silent gasp, only it wasn’t air that filled your mouth.

It was cold salt water that gathered you in, pressing gently against your chest as the fever of the moment softened into something stranger, something vast and inevitable. You drifted upward through the dark, rippling water, rising slowly toward the pale moonlight filtering through the cracks above.

Somewhere below, his voice reached for you through the trembling hush of the sea.

“Don’t be afraid, my love. We’ll be together soon.”

The words came to you blurred by water, the grief in his voice lost under the tide.

Below the surface, the ocean began to claim you with a terrible gentleness. Your skin loosened into foam beneath its touch, dissolving as softly as sea mist beneath the morning sun. The bond between you was complete.

And when the next full moon rose over the tide pools, the sea would return you to him here, remade in the moonlight, birthed into devotion. He would wait for you, patient as the tide, until you rose once more into his arms.

And after that, there would be no more parting—only the sea, and him, and forever.

My pretty-gorgeous list: @onlyafterrain @jo260401 @typicalme23

The air was thick and hot, your vision blurry from intoxication and the constant flashing lights. Looking back, your gaze fell on a small booth in the corner of the club. There he was, a certain 6’2 man sprawled on the sofa, an arm draped lazily over the backrest. He sipped his drink, looking at you with hazy purple eyes that glinted in the dark. 

You flashed him a lazy smile, continuing to sway your body to the music next to your friend. It was a Friday night, and your friends had decided to go clubbing. Of course, your darling boyfriend joined; it was a mixed friend group anyway, so it didn't matter all that much to you. But either way, you knew your colonel wouldn't let you out of his possessive sight, especially not at a place like this, where every man in your radius was eyeing you like a piece of meat. 

You could feel the haze lifting slightly when you thought, 'Ugh, I need another drink.' Your boyfriend's watchful gaze never left you as you made your way to the bar, leaning over the counter to ask the bartender for another round of shots. 

Tapping your nail against the smooth marble, you noticed another hand slide toward yours. Looking up, you saw an unfamiliar man smiling down at you. Raising an eyebrow, you asked, "Umm... can I help you?" A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth as he replied, "Nothin', nothin'... was just gonna ask if I could buy you a drink. You’re beautiful."  Just as you opened your mouth to respond, you felt a large hand snake its way around your waist. You didn't even need to look to know who it was. Caleb's voice dropped to an unusually low octave, "She knows, and I don't like sharing." You leaned back to see Caleb jerk his head to the side in a silent fuck off. 

As you stifled a laugh by biting your lip, you watched the man scramble off, muttering curses under his breath. You turned around to drape your arms around Caleb's neck, pulling him close enough for your noses to touch. “Behave and stay in one place, will ya, pips?” He picked up your newly filled glass off the counter and brought it over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. Giggling, you pulled away from him and grabbed the shot from his hand, only to down it all in one go. Oh boy, you might have miscalculated, the alcohol had you slurring even more now. 

Before you could think it over, you grabbed Caleb's hand and led him toward the dance floor. He kept you steady with an unyielding hold around your waist as you continued swaying to the music, running your hands across his chest. You didn't know if it was just the alcohol, but the look Caleb was giving you sent a chill straight up your spine. The way his eyes traced the line of your moving hips before traveling up to your heaving chest and flushed lips, he was mentally pinning you down and ripping off that damn dress.  God, he hated that thing. When you had walked out of the bedroom wearing that almost sheer black dress that barely covered your ass, he almost considered canceling all your plans just to tie you to his bed, keeping you hidden from every other soul. Almost. The only thing that stopped him was your gleeful excitement to see your friends. Of course, he could never deny his pips. 

But he regretted that decision at this exact moment, possessiveness coursing through him as he noticed all the men raking their eyes across your body. The best he could do was grip you tight against him; his hands were better at covering your ass anyway. 

Meanwhile, your drunk self couldn't help the sinful thoughts running through your mind. Yes, Caleb and you had been intimate before, made love and all. But that was all it ever was; he only ever made love to you, careful and gentle, almost as if you were fragile. You loved it, sure, but sometimes you wondered how much you could push him until he snapped and fucked you the way you actually wanted him to.

And oh were you going to push him tonight.

You turned around so your back was against him, moving your hips in a way that made you graze right up against his front. You felt his fingers instinctively tighten around your waist. “You’re playing a dangerous game here, pips,” his warm breath tickling your ear as he leaned in close.  Smiling, you decided to grind back even harder, until he stopped all your movements with his hands. “Okay, that’s it. We're done here. I’m texting your friends that we are leaving.” 

He swiftly spun you around, keeping a secure hold on your arm while leading you through the dense crowd and out of the bar. Thrashing around in his grip, you pouted, “Caleb, nooo! I wanted to dance more.” Caleb looked down at you, his eyes darkening. “Hmm, it felt like you were doing a little bit more than dancing.” You threw all your body weight into resisting him, but he stood completely unaffected. “What, would you rather I dance with someone else?” you smirked, the alcohol making you way more defiant than usual. 

Now leaning down to your height, he gripped your jaw firmly with his fingers. “You’ve been on very bad behavior today, pips. I suggest you stop before you regret it.” You felt heat pool between your legs. Like hell you were gonna stop.

Caleb swiftly picked you up by your waist and shoved you into the car, securing your seatbelt before taking his own place in the driver's seat and turning on the engine. He put on a radio station playing his favorite band and began humming along to it, but of course, you wouldn't sit still. You leaned over, turned the radio off, kicked off your heels, and placed your feet right on the dashboard. You knew he absolutely hated it, but you just looked at him with an innocent smile. You saw a tick in his jaw, but his endless patience for you got the better of him. “It’s dangerous, pips. An accident would mean you'll snap in half.” You responded with a “nope,” popping your lips obnoxiously. Sighing, he continued driving, a hint of amusement playing at the corner of his lips. 

The moment you reached your house, you both got out of the car. As he moved over to guide your wobbly ass inside, he pulled out his phone to text your friends. He was right in the middle of typing, 'I got her ho-' when, before he could even finish, you reached out and snatched it right out of his hands. 

Then chucked it onto the side of the road.

Oh. You hadn't thought about that, drunk instincts completely taking over the rational part of your brain. The phone landed with a thud and a faint crack. Caleb's fingers twitched mid-air where he had just been holding it. With a dangerous sigh, he turned to look at you, his eyes now pitch black. “You think you can keep acting up without ever facing consequences?” He cupped your face, his palm brushing over your cheek with a gentleness that felt fake. “Here is what's gonna happen. You are going to run. You are going to hide. And if you have the misfortune of me finding you, it's not going to end well for you, pips. So hide well.” He gave you a tender kiss before releasing you. Leaning back against the wall, he nodded toward the door.

“Go on now.”

A delicious shiver ran through your entire body as you bolted inside, bare feet thudding against the hardwood floors. Scanning every corner of the house, you remembered the closet in the guest bedroom. Caleb would never find me there, you thought. You quickly made your way up the stairs and into the bedroom, careful with your footing now so Caleb wouldn't know of your location. Slipping inside the closet, you shut the door with a soft, quiet click. 

Meanwhile, Caleb took his sweet time. He looked over the broken screen of the phone in his hand before tossing it into the trash; he could always get a new one, but disciplining his pips was unavoidable. He slowly made his way through the house, the floors creaking under his heavy weight. He knew you well enough to know that you wouldn't hide on the first floor, so he went straight up the stairs. Looking around the hallway, he noticed the guest bedroom door was slightly ajar. Silly pips, so bad at hiding. He walked into the room, and your breath hitched as his footsteps drew nearer. 

He sensed your quivering presence inside the closet, but he deliberately dragged it out, letting you soak in his threat until you were utterly terrified. He shuffled around the space, looking behind the door, checking under the bed, all in mockery. But eventually, the game stopped. He walked straight up to the closet and slammed the door open. 

“Gotcha,” he grinned darkly before picking you up in one swift motion. His hands took their place, one clamping around your throat, the other sliding to the base of your head to tug sharply at your hair. Tears escaped the corners of your eyes; your underwear was soaked through. 

Caleb tsk’d in disappointment. “Oh no, no, no. You don't get to cry now, honey. Should've thought of this before you decided to act like a little shit today.” His grip on your throat tightened, squeezing enough till black dots started to swarm your vision. But right as you felt like you were about to pass out, he loosened his hold, letting you gasp for gulpfuls of air in desperation. 

Maintaining his hold on the back of your neck, he dragged you over to the bed, sitting at the edge and forcing you to kneel between his legs. You looked up at him, your mascara and lashes wet with tears, your face still flushed from the alcohol– and something else. 

“You’re so pretty when you look up at me, pips,” he murmured. Holding your jaw with one hand, his thumb caressed your bottom lip before he shoved it inside your mouth. “Suck.” 

Trying your best to win back his favor, you did exactly as Caleb told you, obediently sucking his finger and circling your tongue around the tip. “Good girl.” You let out a low whimper; you absolutely loved earning Caleb’s approval. But suddenly, he pulled his finger from your mouth with a soft pop, shifting to fiddle with the button of his jeans instead. Undoing them quickly, he pushed both his pants and boxers down to his knees, letting his cock spring free. 

He grabbed a tight fistful of hair at the back of your head, tugging your face closer to his dick. “You know what to do, baby,” he murmured, smacking his dick across your cheek mockingly. 

You went right to work, hazy with need, letting the salty taste of him fill your mouth. He was so big you could barely fit him all inside; his head hit the back of your throat immediately. You couldn't help but grind against the rough carpet. Caleb pulled your head back by your hair, ripping you away from his cock and making you sob at the sudden loss of contact. “You think I can't notice you pleasuring yourself? No, you don't get this cock unless you listen to me.”You nodded furiously, desperate to let him gag you again. “Use your words, baby.”

“I’ll do whatever you want, please, Ca-Caleb,” you choked out, your words slurring as the tears rolled down your face. Caleb didn’t wait another second before he shoved himself all the way back in. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as you bobbed your head at an irregular pace. He looked like he couldn't hold back either, his hips rutting into your mouth. But right as you were getting comfortable and stopped gagging as much, Caleb pulled out yet again.

“Okay, that’s it. I need your pussy. Get on the fucking bed.”  Not waiting for a response, he picked you up and tossed you onto the mattress face down. He manhandled you like a ragdoll, shoving your face deeper into the pillows as he hoisted your hips up, forcing your back into a deep arch. The dress, already bunched up around your waist, was ripped apart at the seams and discarded somewhere on the floor. Your underwear, a sopping mess, soon followed. 

After a moment of shuffling, you felt the blunt head of his dick prodding at your entrance. You braced yourself to finally have him inside you, but your hopes were instantly dashed. Caleb was teasing you, swirling his tip around your entrance, tapping against your clit, sending jolts up your body, doing absolutely everything but fucking you. You couldn't help but whine, unable to even shimmy backward under his weight. 

Caleb chuckled, finally relenting and sliding all the way into you. Without letting you adjust for even a second, he set a brutal pace. “I bet this was what you wanted,” he grunted, trying to keep his voice stable despite your cunt constantly clenching around him. “Pushing my buttons all day, wearing that damn dress, letting other men see you.” 

“You’re mine, pips. Mine to see. Mine to fuck. And mine to use.” punctuating every sentence with a deep thrust. “You like being fucked this way, don't you? Fucked like the slut you are.” And all you could do was moan in response, being stuffed to the brim.

You had a long, long night ahead of you. Find part two here ;)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ taglist: @meanhamster @feral-espresso-boba @dbglow @hilliserose