For the Valko requests, I would love to see some cute family fluff between MC, Valko, his cousins, grandma, and his sister (I think he had a sister in his lore, correct me if I am wrong), because I want to see how MC would get along with Valko's family. 🐺
𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄
synopsis: when valko brings you home for the first time, he warns you about everything: his grandmother’s food, his sister’s stare, his cousin’s stories, the family jokes that always cut too close. he forgets to warn you that love in his house is not gentle or quiet, but loud, practical, mercilessly observant, and served warm at the kitchen table.
cw/tw: valko x reader. very soft domestic fluff. light family teasing.
read here: ao3 ⋅ tumblr
Valko lost his nerve three steps from the door.
It was a small death, but you saw it happen; the brave lift of his chin, the twitch in his jaw, the small, tragic collapse of his entire face when a crash came from inside the house.
His hand tightened around yours.
“Dobro,” he said.
Another crash.
From inside, and older woman called, “If that's my good plate, I will put someone in the ground before supper.”
Valko closed his eyes. You turned toward him.
He opened one eyes. “She loves plates.”
“More than people?”
“Depends on the people.”
You laughed before you could stop yourself, and relief moved through him all at once, softening his shoulders, loosening the frightened line of his mouth. He'd been nervous all morning. Badly nervous. Valko, who could grin with blood on his teeth and make danger look like a door he'd simply forgotten to knock on, had spent the whole walk here giving you warnings no sane person could have prepared for.
Do not let Mika read your palm. He makes things up and then believes them.
Do not compliment Baba's curtains unless you want curtains.
Do not say you're full.
And, most importantly, if anyone mentions the soup incident, Valko had said, grave as a condemned man, they're lying.
You had asked what the soup incident was.
He had started to walk faster.
Now he stood before the old wooden door with your fingers caught in his, trying to look calm and producing, somehow, the exact expression of a wolf about to be bathed.
“Valko,” you said softly.
“Yes?”
“You're shaking.”
“I'm not shaking.”
“You are.”
“I’m containing myself.”
“From what?”
“Hereditary embarrassment.”
The door flew open.
A girl about his age stood on the other side, dark-eyed and grinning, with flour on her cheek and murder in her posture. She took one look at Valko’s hand around yours, then lifted her gaze to his face with the slow delight of someone finding a knife exactly where she had hoped one would be.
A slow smile cut across her face.
“Oh,” she smirked. “So this is why you changed your shirt twice.”
Valko made a sound. Small, wounded, entirely unlike a wolf.
“I changed once.”
“You changed twice. The first shirt was the blue one. The second was the one that made you look like you were going to court. This...This is the third.”
His ears went red.
The woman held out her hand to you. “Milena. His sister.”
“Unfortunately,” Valko added.
“Fortunately. Without me, you'd still think soap is optional in winter.”
“It isn't optional.”
“Because of me.”
You took Milena's hand. Her grip was warm, firm, and full of judgement she hadn't yet decided to use.
Behind her, the house breathed out heat. Bread, onions, some in old wood, something sweet cooling on a counter. There were voices everywhere, layered and crossing. One person laughing while another complained, a child humming under a table, chairs scraping, a kettle whistling like a bird losing patience.
Milena stepped aside. “Come in before Baba starts saying we were raised by wolves.”
Valko muttered, “We were.”
She looked at him. “And still, some of us learned manners.”
You crossed the threshold. The house was smaller than the noise made it seem, or maybe the noise had simply learned to fill every corner. Framed photographs climbed the walls in crooked rows. Herbs hung drying above the kitchen window. Nothing matched, and yet everything looked touched, mended, argued over... kept.
Valko leaned close as he helped you out of your coat.
“Last chance,” he whispered. “We can run.”
You looked past him to where an old woman stood near the stove, hands folded over her apron, watching you with bright, wolfish eyes.
“Too late,” you whispered back. “I think she heard you.”
“I hear everything,” the old woman said.
Valko went still.
Milena smiled into her shoulder.
The old woman crossed the kitchen with the slow authority of someone who had ruled this house before any of them had teeth. She was small, broad in the shoulders, silver-haired, with flour on her wrist and no softness wasted in her face. The softness, you realised, was elsewhere. In the bread covered by a towel, in the chair pulled out before you reached it, in the way Valko lowered his head without being asked when she came close.
“Baba,” he said, and for the first time that day, his voice lost its jokes.
She, of course, ignored him.
Instead, she took your face between both hands.
Her palms smelled of rosemary, yeast, and soap. Her thumbs rested beneath your cheekbones, and for one strange second the whole house seemed to lean closer. The cousins, the kettle, the old boards, even Valko, holding his breath beside you.
“So,” Baba Vesna said. “You are the reason he forgets to eat.”
“I eat,” Valko protested.
Teta Marika appeared by the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “You came here last week, opened the pantry, stared at a sack of potatoes for six minutes, then said, ‘I wonder what she’s doing.’”
“That was taken out of context.”
“What was the context?” you asked, because love had made you brave and terrible.
Valko looked betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
A boy leaning backwards on his chair nearly lost balance from laughing, another cousin caught the chair by its back without looking up from peeling an apple.
Baba Vesna patted your cheek once and released you. “Sit, dušo. Eat something before my family embarrass me properly.”
Valko gave a strangled laugh. “Before?”
No one listened to him.
You were placed at the long wooden table as if the decision had been made before you arrived. A bowl appeared, then bread, then butter, then a small plate of pickled vegetables. Teta Marika, Valko's aunt, kissed the air beside your cheeks and took the small gift you had brought. Mika announced that he already knew your favourite colour from Valko’s face. Luka told him that was the stupidest sentence ever spoken in the kitchen, which Mika accepted as praise. The little one beneath the table emerged, solemn and bread-dusted, and introduced himself as Niko.
“Are you going to marry him?” Niko asked.
Valko walked directly into the side of a chair.
The whole kitchen paused. You pressed your lips together.
Milena leaned against the doorway, radiant with cruelty. “Careful, Niko. Val only has two knees.”
“Niko,” Teta Marika turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “We ask guests if they want juice first.”
Niko nodded, absorbing this etiquette with grave importance. “Do you want juice before you marry him?”
Valko covered his face with both hands. You bit down on your smile so hard it almost hurt. This wasn't what you had expected.
Some foolish, frightened part of you had imagined a den in the old sense. Teeth, watchful eyes, a family arranged around blood and law, waiting to decide whether your bones could be allowed near theirs. Valko had never spoken of them casually. Whenever he said home, something tender and embarrassed moved through him, as though the word itself had fingers and knew exactly where to touch.
Now you sat beneath a crooked lamp while his grandmother tore bread with her hands and put the first piece on your plate.
“Eat,” Baba Vesna said.
You obeyed.
The bread was warm enough to steam between your fingers. The crust cracked softly, butter melted into it in golden lines. Across the table, Valko watched you take the first bite as if your mouth held judgment from heaven.
You chewed. Swallowed.
“It’s delicious.”
Baba Vesna clicked her tongue. “Of course it is wonderful. I made it.”
Mika leaned towards you. “He talked about you after the market yesterday.”
Valko’s hand hit the table. “No.”
“Yes, you did” Luka said sticking his tongue out.
“No.”
“You said, and I quote, 'she chooses fruit with such care'.”
The table went quiet for half a breath, your hand stilled around the bread. Valko looked at Luka as if betrayal had entered the room wearing his cousin’s face.
“That was private.”
“You said it in the kitchen.”
“That makes it private.”
Milena sat across from you and rested her chin in her hand. “He also said you have kind hands.”
Valko’s mouth opened, nothing came out. Your heart did something foolish inside your chest.
The teasing had worked him bright and flustered, but beneath it, something softer trembled. He was embarrassed, yes. Horribly, so. Beautifully, so. Yet the thing underneath was more dangerous than shame. This was exposure. A curtain pulled open in a room he had spent so long keeping dim.
He had spoken of you here.
At this table. In this warm, loud house. To these people who teased him because they knew what he looked like with no armour on. He had brought you home long before he ever brought your body through the door.
Baba Vesna filled your bowl with soup.
“He was always like this,” she said.
“Baba, please.”
“He was a strange child,” she said.
Valko groaned. “Please.”
“A sweet child,” Teta Marika corrected.
“A dramatic child,” Luka said.
“A biting child,” Milena added.
Valko pointed at her. “You bit first.”
“You looked biteable.”
“You see what I mean?” Valko turned to you with helpless outrage. “This is what I survived.”
There was love in it, the kind that had been cooked too long and reduced into something strong enough to stain. They spoke to him as if they had known every version of him and chosen, again and again, to keep putting food in front of whichever one came home.
You looked at him while he argued with Mika about whether a stolen spoon counted as a childhood trauma.
He caught you looking. For a moment, the noise thinned.
There he was.
Valko with his hair refusing every law of decency. Valko trying so hard to survive his own family and failing beautifully. His eyes met yours with a nervous brightness that made you want to reach across the table and be cruel to every fear that had ever found him.
Then Niko pointed his spoon at you.
“Are you keeping him?”
The kitchen stopped.
Valko made a tiny sound into his bowl.
Milena closed her eyes as if praying for patience and finding none. “Niko.”
“What? Mika said maybe she is keeping him.”
His gaze dropped to the table, to the bread by his hand, to the small old cuts in the wood. The blush still clung to him, but it had changed into something quieter now. Hope, perhaps. Or terror wearing hope’s coat.
You could have laughed. Everyone would have let you. It would have been easy to throw the question back into the room like a toy and watch them tear it apart.
Instead, beneath the table, you found Valko’s hand.
His fingers closed around yours at once.
“I’d like to,” you said.
The house held itself still for half a breath.
Then Baba Vesna nodded, once, as if some old contract had been signed in soup and honey.
“Good,” she said. “He is difficult, but warm.”
Valko bowed his head.
His shoulders shook.
At first you thought he was upset. Then you realised he was laughing, quietly, helplessly, with one hand over his mouth and the other holding yours under the table like he meant to keep it there until winter.
Mika groaned. “Ah, look at him. Finished. Completely finished.”
Milena reached for the pickles. “Good. He needed finishing.”
Teta Marika smiled into her tea. “Eat more, zlato. You will need strength.”
“For Valko?” you asked.
“For all of us.”
Dinner became less a meal than a storm with chairs.
Bowls moved, hands reached, stories climbed over one another and died unfinished because someone remembered a better accusation. Luka asked you practical questions in a calm voice: where you liked to walk, whether Valko had shown you the old river path, whether he still pretended not to like sweet things. Mika tried to read your palm and declared that you were fated to own a troublesome dog.
“That's just Valko,” Milena said.
“I am not a dog.”
“True,” Luka said. “Dogs listen.”
Valko began quietly placing the best pieces of food on your plate.
A soft carrot, the inside of the bread, a dumpling he pretended to move away from himself and somehow abandoned beside your spoon. He was not subtle. He had never been subtle. He was a wolf trying to hide a whole deer behind a napkin.
You noticed on the fourth offering.
His family noticed on the first.
Baba Vesna said nothing until Valko tried to give you the last honey cake. Then she leaned back in her chair and looked at him over her tea.
“Ah,” she said.
Valko froze.
It was one syllable. It landed like a bell.
“What?” he said.
“No, no.” She waved him off. “Continue. Starve for romance. Very noble.”
Mika threw his head back.
You picked up the honey cake before Valko could die at the table and broke it in two, placing half on his plate. “There,” you said. “No starving.”
He looked at the cake.
Then he looked at you.
His expression opened in a way that made the room, somehow, feel too small for your heart. It opened with that unguarded, bewildered softness he sometimes gave you when kindness arrived before he had prepared himself to receive it.
Milena saw it.
Her teasing quieted.
For a moment, she only watched him with something old and protective in her face.
Then she stood. “Come help me with plates.”
Valko blinked. “Me?”
“Her.” Milena pointed at you.
Valko frowned. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That's not a reason.”
“It has worked on you for years.”
You rose before he could protest again. Milena took two plates from the table and handed you none of them, which told you at once that this had nothing to do with helping.
She led you down a narrow hallway lined with photographs.
Behind you, Valko’s voice rose. “Do not interrogate her.”
The hallway smelled faintly of beeswax and dried herbs. The noise of the kitchen softened behind you, still there, still golden, but now wrapped in walls. Milena stopped by a window overlooking the yard and leaned her hip against the sill.
For the first time all evening, she let the smile leave her face.
“He likes you,” she said.
You smiled gently. “I got that impression.”
“No.” Her eyes flicked towards the kitchen. “He likes people easily. He likes old men who tell bad stories, stray cats that scratch him, children who throw rocks at windows because they want attention. Valko is built stupid that way.”
A laugh escaped you.
Milena folded her arms.
“He brings things home,” she continued. “Broken things, angry things. Things he thinks no one else will be gentle with.” Her gaze moved towards the kitchen, where Valko’s voice lifted in protest. “He does not bring people home.”
Your throat tightened.
From the kitchen, Valko shouted, “It wasn't soup. It was stew.”
Mika shouted back, “Stew cannot make a grown man cry.”
“I was overwhelmed by flavour.”
Milena closed her eyes for one second. “Bože, give me strength.”
You laughed softly.
She looked at you again, sharper now.
“He was nervous all week,” she said. “Changed his shirt three times. Asked me if the house smelled too much like onions. Asked Luka if his laugh was strange. Asked Baba if she could please not tell the story about the goat.”
“The goat?”
“Later.” A faint smile touched her mouth. “Maybe never.”
You glanced back towards the kitchen.
He had asked if his laugh was strange.
Something in you ached with such tenderness that it almost felt like anger.
You looked down.
“He didn’t need to worry,”
“He is clumsy with precious things,” she said. “Because he thinks his hands are only good for breaking them, even when he is careful. Especially then.”
“So be kind,” she said. “Or be cruel quickly. He will survive either, but I prefer to know which one I’m dealing with.”
There it was.
The knife under the table. The love with its teeth intact. You didn't resent her for it, you thought, strangely, that you liked her more for it.
“I’m not here to hurt him,”
“Most people aren’t, at first.”
“Milena.”
Milena’s gaze narrowed.
“I don’t know what I’m doing with him,” you admitted.
“With any of this,” you continued. “He makes everything feel…” You searched for the word and hated every pretty one that came. Fated. Wild. Tender. All too polished for the mess he made of your heart. “He makes everything feel like I’ve been walking past a door my whole life, and he is the idiot who opened it with his shoulder.”
Milena stared at you.
Then she laughed once, sharp and startled.
“Oh,” she said. “You’re gone too.”
You looked down, caught.
She seemed satisfied. “Good.”
“Is that approval?”
“That is me deciding not to be difficult.”
“You were being difficult?”
“Dušo,” she said, and now her smile had teeth in it, “I was being polite.”
When you returned to the kitchen, Valko was waiting near the doorway as if he had tried to remain seated and failed.
His eyes moved from you to Milena. “What did you say to her?”
Milena walked past him. “That you were adopted.”
“I’m not.”
“Emotionally, you're a wet dog we found in the rain.”
He watched her go, wounded on principle, then turned to you with genuine concern. “What did she actually say?”
You reached up and brushed flour from his sleeve. “That you’re warm.”
“That was Baba.”
“Family consensus.”
His mouth twitched. “You are enjoying this.”
“I am.”
“You were supposed to be intimidated.”
“By Mika?”
“By the bloodline. The history. The general atmosphere of teeth.”
“Mika told me my palm says I’ll own a dog.”
Valko sighed.
You reached up and plucked the dish towel from his shoulder. “You have flour on your sleeve.”
He looked down, surprised, as if his own body had been making decisions without him. Then he looked back at you, and the kitchen noise faded once more, though this time it was only the two of you making the world small.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
The question was casual enough for anyone else to miss the tremor underneath. You heard it. The naked, waiting part. You thought of his hand shaking outside the door. Baba Vesna taking your face between her palms, of bread steaming in your fingers, of honey cake divided in two, of Milena saying he doesn't bring people home.
“I’m all right,” you said. “Are you?”
Valko smiled too quickly. “I’m alive.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
His smile softened.
For once, he did not joke immediately. It cost him something. You could see it in the way his fingers flexed at his side, reaching for mischief and finding courage instead.
“I wanted them to like you,” he said. “I wanted you to like them.”
“I do”
“I wanted…” He stopped, then laughed under his breath. “I don’t know. Something stupid.”
He looked towards the kitchen, where his family had resumed their noise without mercy. Mika was accusing Luka of stealing the larger piece of cake. Baba Vesna had taken down a tin from the highest shelf, probably containing either biscuits or secrets.
“Valko, stop hiding her. I have photographs.”
Horror returned to his face with magnificent speed.
“No.”
“Yes,”
“No photographs.”
“Naked baby photos,” Mika added.
Valko went pale. “You do not have those.”
Teta Marika’s voice drifted after him, serene and deadly. “We have everything.”
He grabbed your hand. “We’re leaving.”
You let him pull you three steps before Baba Vesna appeared in the doorway holding a small album to her chest.
“Sit,” she said.
Valko sat.
It was remarkable how quickly a wolf could become a grandson.
For the next hour, they showed you the evidence of his life.
Valko missing two front teeth and glaring at the camera as though betrayed by dentistry. Valko asleep under the table with one hand buried in a dog’s fur. Valko at thirteen, all elbows and outrage, holding a fish half his size while crying because he had to put it back.
There was Valko covered in mud, Valko wearing a paper crown, Valko with Milena’s arm hooked around his neck while he pretended to hate her and leaned into her anyway. Valko standing beside Baba Vesna in the garden, holding a basket of tomatoes like he had been entrusted with the fate of nations.
Each photograph was another small door.
You had known him in pieces: the grin, the hunger, the awkward tenderness, the jokes he threw like branches over deep water. Here was the rest of him. Here was the child who had survived becoming himself because these hands had fed him, scolded him, dragged him upright, and remembered his softness when he tried to outgrow it.
At some point, while everyone argued over whether the goat incident happened before or after the soup incident, Valko bent close to you.
“You don’t have to keep looking,” he murmured.
You turned a page.
A tiny Valko stared up from the album, holding a wooden spoon like a sword.
“Yes,” you said. “I do.”
He stared at you.
Then, very briefly, he rested his forehead against your shoulder.
It lasted only a second. A shy, exhausted surrender. No one commented on it, though you knew every person in the room saw. That seemed to be another house rule. They would mock the wound, yes, but they protected the pulse.
Later, when the cups were cleared and the album returned to its shelf of holy embarrassments, you stepped outside for air.
The yard was cold, dark and soft around the edges. Herbs grew beneath the window, yhe old trees leaned towards the house as if listening. Behind you, the kitchen glowed gold, laughter pressing against the glass.
Valko followed after a moment, closing the door carefully behind him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
You looked at him. “For what?”'
“The interrogation. The photographs. Mika. The marriage question. The soup litigation.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Milena.”
“I like Milena.”
“That means she behaved.”
“She said she was being polite.”
He winced. “Then she liked you.”
You leaned back against the porch railing, and he stood in front of you with his hands in his pockets, rocking once on his heels like he wanted to come closer and had forgotten the law of his own body.
Through the window, you could see Baba Vesna pretending to wipe the table while watching you both with shameless interest. You lifted a hand and waved.
She waved back.
Valko turned, saw her, and groaned. “For the love of...Baba.”
“She loves you.”
“That's her usual excuse for crimes.”
“It’s a good one.”
He looked back at you, and the teasing left him slowly, piece by piece. Out here, with the house at his back, he seemed caught between the wild thing and the loved thing. The wolf and the boy in the paper crown. The man who had brought you to the threshold with shaking hands and still tried to joke like fear could be made harmless if he gave it a funny name.
“Did you mean it?” he asked.
“Which part?”
“When Niko asked if you were keeping me.”
The question came lightly, too lightly. A feather laid over a blade.
You reached for him.
This time, Valko did not hesitate. He came into your space at once, as if pulled by a string tied somewhere behind his ribs. His hands settled at your waist, careful at first, then warmer when you didn't move away.
“I meant it,”
His eyes searched yours.
“For tonight?”
“For longer than that.”
He didn't kiss you immediately. Somehow, that made it worse. He stood there and let the answer enter him, slowly, like someone opening the door to a room he had been told was empty and finding it lit.
Inside, Mika yelled, “Are they kissing?”
Valko dropped his forehead to your shoulder.
“Leave them. He is finally being normal.”
You laughed.
He looked at you then, and the last of his embarrassment broke open into something bright, something almost boyish
“Welcome home,” he said, very softly.
You touched his cheek.
Behind him, the old house breathed and creaked and held its golden noise. Inside, his family waited with tea, teeth, stories, and a place at the table already made yours.
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The scent of the apartment hit him before he even reached the door.
That was always how it worked. Valko would clear the front door, shift his bag on his shoulder, and without thinking—without even meaning to—his chest would expand, pulling in everything. The sharp bite of the laundry detergent you both used, the faint trace of the citrus dish soap from the morning’s coffee mugs. The ghost of whatever you'd cooked that morning. And underneath all of it, quiet and constant and unbearably familiar, the warm specific sweetness of you.
Two years of this. Two years and it still stopped him on his tracks every single time.
To anyone who shared a class with him, Valko was the guy with half rimmed glasses, soft sweaters, neckband headphones around his collar like he'd forgotten they were there, a battered copy of whatever textbook he was working through dog eared on his desk. He took meticulous notes in handwriting that was almost too neat.
He called his mother every Sunday without fail, usually from the kitchen while something was already on the stove. He brought back containers of homemade food after weekend visits home and left them in the fridge with little labeled lids because he knew you'd forget to eat otherwise.
He was, by every reasonable measure, a gentle giant with a soft spot for his family and an embarrassing weakness for old equipment manuals.
The wolf underneath all of that was another matter entirely.
He'd stopped trying to logic his way out of it somewhere around month six of your lease. The obsession had settled into him quietly, the way water finds the shape of whatever holds it—gradual, total, and by the time he noticed, already everywhere. He loved the way you laughed when he miscalculated a doorframe carrying furniture. He loved that you used his arm like a headrest when you were tired without seeming to notice you were doing it. He loved that you trusted him with the small, unglamorous parts of your life—the bad days, the grocery runs at midnight, the moments when you needed someone solid nearby without having to explain why.
He told himself it was just closeness. That it was natural, living with someone this long. That plenty of people felt this way about their roommates.
He was lying to himself and he knew it.
You never noticed the small things. That was the part that made it simultaneously easier and worse.
You didn't notice the way his jaw tightened every time you mentioned Caleb's name in passing. You didn't notice that when he draped his coat over your shoulders on cold nights, he always took a moment longer than necessary to settle it there, his hands resting briefly on your shoulders, his nose dipping almost imperceptibly toward your hair. You didn't notice the way his whole body oriented toward you when you moved through a room, like a plant turns toward a window without deciding to.
Two years of this and you'd noticed none of it.
Caleb, though. Caleb was a different kind of problem.
The name sat wrong in Valko's mouth every time he heard it. Your boyfriend. The pilot stationed out in Skyhaven, the one who'd existed in Valko's life as nothing more than a name and a reason you packed a bag every other weekend. You always went to him. A wave from the doorway, a small oveñnight bag, the shuttle to Skyhaven. Back by Sunday night, sometimes Monday morning if the transit ran slow.
Two years, and Valko had never once seen him. Fine. He could work with that.
What he couldn't work with was the scent. Or rather, the complete absence of it.
It defied every instinct he had. A man who kept a woman—who spent weekends with her, who held her hand and her body—should leave something behind. It was a biological fact, not a sentiment. Every time you came home from Skyhaven, Valko would brace for it. Would stand in the hallway with his teeth ground together preparing to smell another man all over you.
Every single time, there was nothing.
Just you. Clean and warm, like you'd spent the weekend alone in a hotel and not with someone who was supposed to love you. No territorial overlap. No claim. Nothing.
It didn't reassure him. It made him furious. A man who loved you would mark you without even trying—it would just happen, the natural consequence of closeness and time. The fact that it hadn't happened said something.
He doesn't know what he has.
Since Caleb clearly wasn't going to handle it, Valko had decided— without discussing it with anyone, including himself—to handle it instead.
It had started small. Sitting on your side of the couch when you were out because "the lamp was better over there". Leaning in your doorframe a beat longer than necessary. Gradually, the apartment had become his in ways that only his own nose could confirm. Your throw blanket carried him now. The pillow on the left side of your bed—your side—carried him. He'd lie across your mattress on the afternoons you were in seminar, shoulders rolling slow against the sheets, transferring the scent from the back of his neck and the inside of his wrists onto everything you'd touch when you slept.
He wanted to be the reason the room felt safe to you, even if you'd never know why.
The laundry had come later. He'd started folding yours without being asked because it was a practical thing to do, a completely normal roommate thing—and if his hands slowed over certain items, if he stood in the laundry room for longer than strictly necessary with warm shirts pressed to his face, that was between him and the four walls.
He wasn't proud of the drawer.
Your scent there was undiluted, something the rest of the apartment couldn't match—private, concentrated, intimate. The first time he'd opened it he'd been looking for your spare key. He'd stood there for a long time, glasses pushed up into his hair, one hand braced on your dresser, taking slow careful breaths and trying to remember what reasonable behavior felt like.
He'd gone back to his room. He'd thought about you.
He'd told himself it would clear his head.
It had not cleared his head.
Two days ago he stood in front of your closet with his heart going faster than he wanted to admit.
You'd been out getting groceries. His hand moved through your dirty clothes on autopilot, past the jeans, past the sweaters, until his fingers closed around silk.
Soft. Warm from being buried against other fabric. Almost nothing against the width of his palm.
He lifted them to his face before he'd fully decided to.
There was your scent, the core of it. He stood there breathing it in with his eyes closed and his chest heaving, and then, he searched. Every thread. Looking for any trace of another man underneath yours.
Nothing. Just you. Entirely unmarked you.
The growl that came out of him was low enough that only he could hear it.
Something about that absence sent a rush of heat down his spine that he wasn't prepared for. His back had found the closet wall.
He couldn't stop himself.
One hand kept the silk pressed to his face. The other worked fast around his cock, his jaw tight, breathing controlled through sheer habit. He'd imagined you beneath him, his weight pinning you into the mattress, his teeth finding the curve of your shoulder, his scent finally, permanently replacing the nothing that Caleb had left behind. When he came it was blinding and quiet, his head dropping back, his whole body shaking with the force of it.
He'd cleaned up carefully. Returned everything. Walked to the kitchen and put the kettle on like a normal person.
He was a patient man. He was methodical. He had excellent grades and he called his mother on Sundays and he was going to wait for the right moment. But the conclusion had already been reached, somewhere in the back of his skull where logic and instinct lived side by side.
He was going to take you. It was a matter of time. He was just waiting for the right moment to show you that a real man didn't leave his woman smelling like an empty room.
--------------------------
The July heat was suffocating. Valko had been inside an exam room for two hours and his brain felt wrung out like a dish cloth. His glasses had fogged twice on the walk from campus, he was looking forward to the AC. He was looking forward to you.
It was a Friday so he'd stopped at the bakery on the corner. Two cinnamon rolls, extra cream cheese frosting. He had them in a plastic bag hooked over two fingers.
He reached the door and stopped. His nose twitched.
The scent of the hallway was wrong. Not dangerous, just wrong.
Valko's brow creased. He put his glasses back on.
He unlocked the door slowly, the click of the mechanism very loud in the quiet hallway, and pushed it open.
The air inside hit him all at once.
He stopped moving. His hand stayed on the doorknob, grip tightening by degrees until the metal pressed hard into his palm, and he stood in the entryway and looked at his living room like a man trying to solve a problem he hadn't been told existed.
There was someone on the couch.
Long legs stretched toward the coffee table. Dark tactical jacket, sleeves pushed up, the kind of build that came from actual use rather than a gym.
And tucked against his side, head on his chest, hand flat against his collarbone—
You. Laughing at something he'd just said.
Caleb.
Valko's mind was still trying to catch up. His instincts weren't waiting.
The heat that moved through him was immediate, flooding from his chest out, his vision sharpening at the edges the way it did when something in him decided a situation required full attention. His breathing stayed controlled—barely, through discipline and nothing else—while every animal thing in him was screaming to move forward. To put himself between you and the man currently comfortable in a space he had no right to be comfortable in.
My couch. The thought was irrational and he knew it and it didn't help. My apartment. My—
As if feeling the shift in the room, Caleb's head turned.
His eyes found Valko's across the space with a directness that said he'd known someone was there before the door finished opening. Dark eyes, calm, taking in Valko's full height and the white knuckled grip on the doorframe.
He didn't look away.
Neither did Valko.
You sat up, something lighting in your face when you saw him. "You're home early." You smiled, easy and warm, completely unaware of the temperature of the room. "Valko, this is my boyfriend Caleb. Caleb, this is my roommate, Valko."
Caleb stood up and extended his hand. He was tall—nearly matching Valko’s height—but where Valko was built like an immovable wall of muscle, Caleb possessed the lethal, agile grace of a feline.
Valko crossed the room and took it.
"Good to meet you," Caleb said. Flat. Even.
And the bottom dropped out of everything he thought he understood.
The scent hit him the second their palms connected, not foreign, not the aggressive territorial brand of another man he'd been grinding his teeth against for two years. It was you—your exact scent, the one Valko had spent two years cataloguing down to its smallest note—but run through something else entirely. Deeper. Heavier. Amplified through the biology of a dominant male until it had become its own thing, something that pressed into Valko's lungs like a hand against his sternum and didn't let up.
Caleb smelled like you the way a home smelled like the people who lived in it.
Two people did not share the same biological signature. That was not how any of this worked. Unless—
His brain didn't finish the thought. His body had already moved on without him.
The heat he felt all over his body was not aggression. That was the part that made no sense, the part that his wolf had no framework for because this wasn't a territorial response. This wasn't the hot, focused anger he'd been bracing for every time he imagined finally meeting the man who had you. This was something strange and considerably more humiliating, a frequency he hadn't known he could receive, vibrating straight through the bones of his hand where Caleb's grip still held.
His cock hardened so fast his vision went momentarily white at the edges.
He couldn't stop it. Couldn't reason with it. Two years of wanting you, of your scent living in the back of his throat like something he'd swallowed and never fully digested—and now here was this man, wearing you like a second skin, your sweetness wound so completely through his scent that Valko couldn't separate the two. Couldn't find where you ended and Caleb began.
It was the most overwhelming thing he had ever experienced. His knees felt weak.
Caleb's grip tightened.
His eyes hadn't moved from Valko's face. Valko watched the shift happen—the smile staying but changing underneath, becoming something quieter and darker. He'd clocked the pupil dilation. He'd clocked all of it.
"Something wrong?" Caleb asked
Valko could not breathe. The apartment was saturated with your/his scent and his body was making decisions he hadn't authorized, and he was going to do something catastrophic if he stayed in this room for another ten seconds. He didn't know what but he didn't want to find out.
He pulled his hand back.
"I forgot—" His voice came out completely unrecognizable. He didn't look at you. Couldn't. "The lab. I left something. I have to—"
He was already at the door. He had no memory of crossing the room.
The hallway air hit him cold and he kept walking, down the stairs, out into the July heat that suddenly felt like nothing compared to what he'd just left behind.
summary: your new life was entirely perfect. you had a devoted boyfriend whom you had recently moved in with, and coworkers who greeted you with open arms on your first day. everything in your life was falling into place seamlessly. too seamlessly
wc: 8.2k
warnings: dark content, suggestive, manipulation, yandere themes, surveillance
an: heed the warnings and let me know if i missed any
It had all started with a single request from your boyfriend of two years. “Would you move in with me?” It was a no-brainer. You loved him. Couldn't imagine your life with anyone else. You nodded, enthusiastically accepting, a wide grin lighting up your face. Caleb had brought you into a crushing hug, laughing in relief that you agreed. He’d been fretting over that one little question all week.
From there, it was a blur of logistics and boxes, packing your entire life away in cardboard and bubble wrap to begin what you hoped was the rest of your days with the love of your life. It had been stressful, to say the least, but that was expected, and Caleb was there every step of the way, meticulously wrapping fragile items and carrying the heavier boxes without you having to ask.
It was endearing how keen he was to bring you into his space without worrying about when you would have to return to Linkon. Not once did he leave your side, always making sure you wouldn’t lose your balance while carrying boxes or overexerting yourself. It was the domestic fantasy you had always dreamed about.
As smooth as Caleb made the moving process, your boss had been a thorn in your side from the get-go. He had refused to sign your transfer request to the Skyhaven facility, staunchly opposed your leaving, and said he didn't want to have to train someone else on the job. It took a week of back and forth for him to finally sign, his attitude on the matter doing a complete 180°, now eager to get you out of the building and wishing you great success. You furrowed your brows, unsure where this sudden change came from, but frankly, you were too excited to tell Caleb that the transfer had been approved to dwell on it. You didn't see his sigh of relief when you were finally leaving.
Caleb had gone as far as to take time off to help you settle in and unpack, but it soon became abundantly obvious that he had ulterior motives. Though he had lived there for some time, he still proclaimed that now that it was a family home, the rooms would have to be christened. Even if it wasn't a new place, it was a new, joint life, and that was good enough for him.
As promised, there was not a single room that Caleb hadn't indulged in your body. You think you spent more time that week wrapped in his arms, under him, and, occasionally, on your knees for him, than you did actually unpacking. Unfortunately, as much as you loved being doted on, that single week was all the time you had been allowed before resuming your work, albeit in a different location.
“Just a few more minutes, Pips,” Caleb groaned, pulling you tighter against him, refusing to let you get out of bed.
“You said that ten minutes ago,” you answered, pushing on the arm that was snuggly wrapped around your waist, laughing as you did so. “We’ll both be late, and then what? I can’t be late on the first day.”
He nuzzled his nose into your shoulder, giving you one final squeeze before relenting and letting you go. You rolled over, kissing his cheek softly before reluctantly leaving the comfort of both your boyfriend’s strong arms and the warmth of the bed. He didn't take his eyes off you, watching the way the morning light illuminated your figure and caressed the sliver of skin that was exposed when you raised your arms to stretch. He was beginning to regret hitting snooze instead of using his time to admire the mouthwatering sight. It helped, though, knowing that his home was now your home. He had the rest of his life to cherish and adore you.
“You're so beautiful,” he murmured, his expression soft as he gazed at you. Heat rushed to your face. Despite his constant praise, there would always be a part of you that got flustered with his every compliment. How had you found such a perfect guy? Despite not having the time to do all he wanted, Caleb wasn't deterred from slipping his hands under your shirt and stroking the soft skin as you prepared breakfast in the kitchen.
As much as he insisted on driving you to work, you were no stranger to the public trains of Skyhaven, having visited so much. You settled on him driving you to the station, talking your ear off about how he wanted to know everything when you got off work, and how great he was sure it would be. Like your former boss, you didn't see the way his features hardened when you got out of the car, observing the other commuters.
The ride was uneventful, and you passed the time by scrolling on your phone. You frowned when your message to a friend didn't go through. Everything else seemed to be working fine, but no matter how many times you tried, the message stubbornly kept that little red exclamation mark signifying that it couldn't be delivered. You sighed, choosing to worry about it later. Maybe it had something to do with being on a floating island. You'd never had issues before, but there was a first time for everything.
When you arrived at your stop, you stood smoothly from your seat, sliding your phone into your bag and readjusting the straps on your shoulder. You were pleasantly surprised to find that, unlike most other public transportation you had been on, it seemed as if the passengers here were acutely aware of personal space. Not one person bumped into you on their way in or pushed you forward to follow the crowd of those disembarking.
From the train station, your work was a short walk away, the tall office building visible before you had even left the station. You hesitated when the doors came into view, your nerves getting the better of you. You hated feeling like the new kid at school, but such was life. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, pulling the door open with a confidence you didn't actually possess. You soon learned that there was no reason to be so nervous.
Upon entering the facility, the woman at the front desk startled so hard she nearly knocked over the mug of steaming coffee on her desk. She rose from her seat to welcome you. “Hi, you must be the new employee! My name is Penny. Mr. Burbank told me we were expecting you today,” she said, her smile a little too wide, and her voice a little too chipper. She grabbed something from the desk, handing it to you. “Here’s your employee ID. Mr. Burbank is in his office just down the hall. You can't miss it. It has his name on it and everything,” she joked in that overly-friendly tone.
You returned the smile. “Thank you so much! It was nice to meet you, Penny.” You made your way down the hall, scanning the doors looking for “Burbank” written on one of them. You found it towards the end, and before you could so much as raise a fist to knock it swung inward, revealing who you assumed to be your new boss.
“Ah! And you must be our newest member of the team!” he greeted you, even more enthusiastically than the receptionist had, if that was even possible. You put on a polite smile, though it was becoming a little unnerving how unnaturally upbeat people seemed to be, even as your boss gave you a tour of the space and introduced you to your coworkers. You brushed it off as them just trying to be welcoming and accommodating to the newcomer.
It should be easy enough to get in the groove of things. After all, it was the same job you had been working previously, just at a new location and with new people. Mr. Burbank cut his over-the-top hand gestures short, patting the edge of a sleek, modern desk. “And this is where you’ll be working! We wanted to make sure you felt right at home, so it’s already been supplied with pens and such. If you need anything, absolutely anything, my door is always open!” With a final, blinding smile, he marched back to his office, leaving you to settle in at your new desk.
You let out a long, quiet breath as you settled into the office chair, surveying the array of supplies that came with the desk. Oddly enough, the mesh organizer was already filled with the exact gel pens you had always sworn by. You hummed, pleased that you wouldn't have to worry about finding your original ones in one of the many unpacked boxes still cluttering Caleb’s home.
“He’s a lot to deal with on a Monday, isn't he?”
A head of soft curls popped over the partition separating your desks. The girl attached to them gave you a sympathetic smile, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I’m Evelyn,” she said, leaning her elbows on the divider. “Don't let Burbank scare you. He’s a big fan of extra espresso shots, if you couldn't tell. You’ll get used to it.”
You laughed genuinely for the first time today as you introduced yourself. “Good to know. I guess I’d rather have a passionate boss over a rude one.”
Evelyn nodded understandingly, eyeing the pens in the mesh holder before shifting back to your face. “No question about that.”
You thought that would be the end of the conversation, but she spoke up again. “Well, as Burbank said, if you need anything, don't be afraid to ask. Honestly, the system is the same as the Linkon branch, so you shouldn't have any trouble.”
Your eyes widened slightly in shock. “How do you know I’m from Linkon?”
“Oh, since you're working next to me, Burbank let me know we were getting a transfer from the sister office,” she answered flawlessly without a hint of hesitation. You accepted her answer, not having any reason to doubt it.
As she said, and as you expected earlier, you had no trouble taking up the work. The time flew, and before you knew it, Evelyn was tapping you on the shoulder to get your attention.
“Since you're new in town, how about getting lunch with me and Pen? You met her at the front desk, right?”
You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was indeed already time to eat. You happily accepted the offer, grabbing your bag from where it was stored under your desk and following Evelyn out to the lobby. “Ready to go, Pen?” Evelyn asked.
“Yeah, just give me a sec,” she answered, her attention wholly on the computer in front of her as she typed something feverishly. The second she finished, she spun in her chair to face the pair of you waiting. “Oh!” she exclaimed, seeing you. “Are you coming, too?”
“If it’s no trouble—” you started, suddenly concerned that you were intruding despite having been invited by one of the parties.
“No, of course not! The more the merrier!” Penny was quick to reassure you.
“So!” Evelyn cut in, clapping her hands. “What about that bistro a few blocks from here? The one with that BLT I really like?” She turned to you. “They have a great lunch menu. You’ll love it, I promise.”
With everyone in agreement, off you went. It was nice to have met such nice women on your first day. The bistro was close enough to walk, and they chatted with you the entire way there, ensuring you were never left out, going so far as to catch you up on the latest office drama.
The bistro was packed with the midday rush, filled with the comforting aroma of garlic, melting cheese, and the chatter of patrons. Luckily, the wait was shorter than you had anticipated, and the three of you were seated in record time.
After giving your drink order to the waiter, Pen leaned towards you, propping her arms on the table. “So, tell us about you. What brought you to Skyhaven?”
Evelyn mirrored Penny’s posture, eagerly wanting to listen to learn more, too.
You looked away sheepishly, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I moved in with my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for two years now, and it just felt like the right time. His job is here, and way more important than mine, so it only made sense for me to move in with him instead of vice versa.”
The girls squealed at your answer.
“That’s so sweet,” Evelyn gushed. “What’s he like? He must be something special to relocate your whole life.”
“Yeah, tell us about him.”
Their excitement was infectious, and you couldn't help but indulge their fun. “His name is Caleb, and yeah, he’s amazing,” you said, your cheeks warming when you recalled him holding you in the kitchen that morning. “He’s incredibly attentive. He takes care of everything before I even think of it.”
“And what does he do for a living? You said his job was way more important, but I don't know. I personally take great pride in what we do,” Evelyn probed.
“He’s a colonel for the fleet,” you answered proudly.
“Oooh, impressive, and it sounds like he really adores you.”
“He does,” you agreed, feeling an intense wave of gratitude wash over you.
Before they could ask any more questions, the waiter returned with your drinks, pulling out a notepad to take the rest of your orders. Once he was gone, you turned the questions around.
“What about you two? Anyone special in your lives?”
Penny shook her head, and Evelyn groaned. “Nothing more than a string of bad first dates. I mean, is it really so hard to find a decent guy, or do I just have bad taste?”
Penny rubbed her back soothingly, but the comfort didn't last. “Maybe a bit of both?” she suggested, grinning wryly.
Evelyn’s jaw dropped as she scoffed. “And what about you, huh? Didn't the last guy you go out with turn out to already have a girlfriend?”
“You promised not to talk about that!”
The duration of lunch was spent in that fashion: discussing each other’s love lives, even if you were the only one with a significant one, hobbies, interests, etc. They were great, truly, and you felt so fortunate that you were able to seamlessly slide into the easy chemistry that the two already had. While waiting for the checks, you pulled your phone out both to check the time and the message thread with your friend from back ho— Linkon, you corrected yourself. Skyhaven was home now.
You sighed, frowning slightly, drawing the attention of the table.
“Something wrong?” Penny asked. Her voice was light, but her posture was remarkably still as she watched you tap frustratedly at the screen.
“Yeah, just…trying to text a friend back in Linkon, but it won’t go through.”
“Oh, don't sweat it,” she said easily, waving a dismissive hand. “Skyhaven tends to eat external signals. Happens to all of us eventually. It’ll clear up!”
“As high-tech as this place is, you'd think the service would be more reliable,” you remarked.
She shrugged. “A little bad service is worth the trade-off, don't you think? Everything you need is right here. Once you're a resident, there's not really a need to look elsewhere. Plus, you've got a handsome colonel waiting for you at home.”
You tilted your head towards her, confused. You hadn't said anything about Caleb’s looks. Maybe she just naturally assumed that since you were his girlfriend, you’d find him attractive. Objectively speaking, he was, but she didn't know that. Her words before that also threw you, sounding like a rehearsed line, like someone trying to talk you into buying something. You almost expected her to pull out a pamphlet of Skyhaven’s highlights. But her bubbly way of speaking made it easy to ignore. You were new to living there full-time, so it could also be that she was just trying to ease any homesickness you may be feeling.
———
“Go on, get out of here,” Evelyn laughed, shooing you away from your desk as the clock finally ticked to five. “Your colonel is probably already waiting.”
You rolled your eyes, but acquiesced, shutting everything off for the day after double-checking that all the files were saved. “Less waiting, and more cooking. He’s making his signature braised chicken to celebrate,” you admitted, mouth already watering as you thought about it.
“You definitely won the lottery,” she said, giving you a playful wink. “Have a good night, I’ll see you tomorrow. Don't wait up on me, I’ve gotta run this-” she held up a stack of papers “-to Burbank.”
The commute back felt entirely different than the one there. This time, instead of being filled with a frantic nervousness for your first day, you were happy and content, excited to tell Caleb all about the two women you had already befriended. And, unlike most of the train rides you had boarded in Skyhaven, this time you weren't a visitor. You were a resident going home. It made your heart flutter in your chest to think about it.
When you walked in, you were immediately enveloped by the savory scent of Caleb’s cooking wafting from the kitchen. The moment the door clicked shut, Caleb was calling out for you. “Pips? You home?”
Before you had even taken your shoes off, he appeared in the doorway. He’d already discarded his uniform, opting instead to don his more comfortable lounge clothes, an apron covering them.
“Hey,” you greeted, dropping your bag onto the entryway table.
Caleb crossed the room in two large strides, catching you by the waist and pulling you flush against his chest. He held you tightly, one of his hands sliding up your back to cup the back of your head. He held you in place like he never wanted to let go. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his trim waist and melting into his familiar warmth.
“How was your day? Did they treat you well?” he asked without breaking the hug.
You pulled back slightly to see his face. “It was great! I met these two really nice ladies named Penny and Evelyn. They even invited me out to lunch with them!”
Caleb smiled tenderly at you, kissing your forehead. “Good. That’s exactly what you deserve. Only the best.”
Dinner was filled with idle chatter about your days, and Caleb’s attention never wavered from you, not even for a moment. When your plates were empty and your stomachs full, you practically had to force Caleb out of the kitchen and into the living room.
“But, Pips, I really don't mind cleaning up. In fact, it should be me,” he protested.
“Nope,” you replied. “You cooked, so I’ll take care of the cleanup.”
“That’s hardly fair. It’s more like I made the mess, and you’re the one cleaning it.”
You only shook your head at him, continuing to usher him out. He eventually relented, but you could see him pouting on the couch where he was waiting. As soon as the last of the kitchen was tidied, you made your way over to Caleb, who pulled you onto his lap before you were able to take the seat next to him. “You're finally here,” he whispered, his lips brushing your jawline as he drifted down to your collarbone, leaving a trail of burning, lingering kisses. “My beautiful girl. No more different cities. No more goodbye trains.”
“No more goodbyes,” you agreed softly, tilting your head back to give him better access, your fingers tangling in his dark hair.
He groaned, a low vibration against your skin, and adjusted his hands to grip your hips, rolling your hips against his. His eyes were dark with an overwhelming, desperate adoration that made you feel like the center of his whole world. When his lips met yours, it was slow, possessive, and all-consuming— a silent vow of complete and utter devotion. Your body was pliant against his as he rose from the couch, your legs wrapping securely around his waist as he carried you to your shared bedroom, all of your worries and anxieties melting away in the security of his strong hold.
Two months dissolved into a golden haze of domestic bliss. Skyhaven had long since stopped feeling like a new city and actually felt like home. Life with Caleb settled into a rhythm that felt almost impossibly perfect. Given the nature of his job, his days were spent dealing with high-stress tasks, yet he was always sure to leave work at work, never taking his issues home where his pretty girl was waiting for him. No matter what his job put him through, he was still your Caleb; still the same man who insisted on you not lifting a finger; still the same man whose only concern was ensuring that you were as cared for as you could be.
He was fiercely, unapologetically attentive, whether it was a coffee thermos waiting for you on the counter on the days he had to leave earlier or rubbing your shoulders when you complained about stiffness after sitting at a desk all day. Contrariwise, you did whatever you could for him. Making sure the formal coat he discarded over the arm of the couch was properly hung up so it wouldn't get wrinkled, offering reassurances whenever he doubted making the wrong decision at work, anything he needed, you were there, as he was for you.
At the office, the initial corporate stiffness evaporated, and Penny and Evelyn became permanent fixtures in your life. Friday nights at a local bar became a ritual. They knew your favorite drinks, celebrated your small successes at work, and constantly reminded you how lucky you were. “Honestly,” Evelyn had mused one night. “A man who looks like that, who holds a rank like that, who treats you like that? You're living a fairy tale most of us can only dream of.”
You believed her. You really did.
The first time the illusion rippled was a Tuesday morning in mid-October. Mr. Burbank had bounded into the room, practically vibrating with his usual high energy, pushing a rolling cart loaded with coffee carafes and several boxes from a nearby bakery.
“Good morning, everyone! Brilliant numbers last week, truly brilliant!” he beamed, clapping his hands together and gesturing towards the spread. “Please, help yourselves. A reward for all your hard work! Keep it up!”
You stood up with Evelyn, moving towards the table to fix a coffee. You were scanning the assortment of pastries when Mr. Burbank stepped up beside you, immediately reaching into one of the boxes with a pair of tongs. He pulled out a muffin with an impeccable streusel topping, placing it onto a paper plate before handing it to you. “There you go! Raspberry-white chocolate!” he said with a jovial nod. “Your favorite, right?”
You froze, the weight of the muffin in your hand taking on a weight it didn't previously have. You stared down at it. It was your favorite, but you hadn't mentioned that to a single soul here. “Oh,” you said, forcing your voice to remain light as you looked up at him. “Yeah, it is. But how did you know that, sir? I don't think I've ever mentioned it.”
He faltered, all gusto melting from his face, a blank expression replacing it. He glanced sharply over your shoulder toward Evelyn, who had stopped pouring her coffee. Then, like flipping a switch, his bright smile returned stronger than before, but was a little tighter around the edges. “I’m certain I’ve heard it somewhere. Maybe it was in your information during onboarding. We’ve always been a very thorough company, you know.” He walked away hurriedly after his rushed explanation, not giving you the chance to question it. Surely no company was that thorough, right?
You were still puzzling over it when Evelyn nudged you with her elbow. “C’mon, get some coffee before it goes if you want some,” she said, pulling your thoughts away from Burbank’s strange behavior.
The unease only deepened that Friday, tucked away in a corner booth with Penny and Evelyn. Your phone sat on the table next to your glass. The screen lit up briefly with a notification: Message to “Jane” failed to send.
You sighed, propping your head up and rubbing one of your temples. “Hey, are you guys still having trouble with external signals? I still haven't been able to get a single call or text to Linkon since moving.”
Penny paused, her cocktail glass just an inch from her lips. Beside you, Evelyn tensed. The easy, girlish chatter vanished, replaced by a thick, suffocating silence.
“Oh, the defense grid has been super high-intensity lately,” Penny said, her bubbly voice sounding forced. “The fleet’s been doing a lot of training exercises.”
“It’s getting really frustrating,” you admitted, swirling the straw in your drink. “I miss my friends and family. I’m thinking of taking a long weekend next month to visit. Just booking a train ticket and staying in Linkon for a few days. It’s been too long since I've seen everyone.”
Penny’s glass hit the table with an abrupt clink.
“Why would you want to go back there?” Evelyn asked. Her tone wasn't that of a friend asking a casual question. It was sharp. Defensive. Accusatory.
You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. “I just told you. I miss my family and friends. Linkon was my home for my entire life until a few months ago.” You didn't understand why this seemed to be such an issue to them.
“Skyhaven is your home now,” Penny rebutted smoothly, though her eyes were darting rapidly between you and Evelyn. She reached across the table, covering your hand with hers. “And you have us now! Besides, Linkon is way more dangerous. Wouldn't it be better to stay safe up here? Caleb would worry himself sick over you.”
You frowned. “It’s not like I’d be traipsing through the N109. Again, I grew up there. I can navigate the city just fine. Why are you pushing this so hard?”
“It’s just not a good idea,” Evelyn said, her voice dropping into a stern, unyielding tone, like a parent chastising a child. “You're safer here. There's no reason to go back.” They both stared at you, their expressions of manufactured friendliness not quite reaching their eyes. You pulled your hand back from Penny’s, dropping the subject in conversation, but not forgetting it altogether. For the rest of the night, something in you remained unsettled.
“I think I’m going to head home. It’s been a hectic week,” you informed them, checking the time on your phone. “It’s getting late, too.”
“Do you want us to walk you to the station?” Penny asked, already rising from her seat.
“No, no, please. You two stay and enjoy yourselves. Caleb already offered to pick me up whenever I’m ready.”
They nodded understandingly, watching as you pulled up your chat with Caleb, the only one that never seemed to experience a single second of network delay. Ready to head home, you typed, your thumbs flying across the screen. Can you come get me?
He answered immediately. On my way, Pips.
It had barely been five minutes when he texted you again to tell you that he was waiting outside. That’s curious, you thought. It should have taken him at least twenty minutes from home. Nevertheless, you bid the girls goodbye, hurrying out to see Caleb’s sleek, dark car pulled up at the curb. You slid into the passenger seat, placing your bag on the floorboard as you settled in, the scent of Caleb’s cologne enveloping you and offering a familiar comfort you only associated with him.
“Have fun?” he asked as he pulled away, glancing at your outfit from the corner of his eye. God, the things you do to him.
“Yeah, I guess so. You got here really fast. Were you already near?”
Caleb nodded, taking one hand off the wheel to point to the backseat with his thumb, where you saw an assortment of plastic bags. “Yeah, just picking up a few things. Found this soup recipe that I think you’ll love. Saw your text right as I was leaving.”
You hummed, and he continued, stretching his hand across the console to rest a hand against your thigh. “Anyways, you said you guess you had fun? Did something happen? Are you okay?” he inquired worriedly.
You smiled gently at his concern. “I’m fine, Caleb. The girls were just a little strange. I brought up wanting to visit home since I still can't contact anyone. You'd think I'd suggested walking into a warzone.”
Caleb’s thumb, which had been rubbing circles on your skin, stilled. “Oh, yeah? What did they say?”
You let out a long breath, relaying everything that had been said, how intensely opposed they had been. “Am I reading too far into it? It’s like they were trying to prevent me from leaving.”
Caleb kept his dark eyes on the road, jaw clenching. You should never have been made to feel uncomfortable. “They were probably just worried about you, that’s all. It’s not unusual for friends to be concerned.”
You weren't convinced, but said nothing. He continued. “If you really want to go so badly, though, just let me know when so I can make some arrangements. We’ll go together. It’s been too long since I’ve had your mother’s cooking.”
You blinked at him, stunned, warmth blooming in your chest. “You’d really take time off for that? I’m just looking to visit for a few days, and they need you here.”
“If it’s just a few days, then they can survive without me, don't you think? The fleet isn't so fragile as to fall apart over me missing for a few days,” he laughed, enjoying how cute your concern was. “You are my number one priority. Always.”
Your reservations melted away, replaced by the absolute security that Caleb provided. You set your hand on top of his, where it still rested on your thigh, content to let the conversation fall into silence and admire the lights of the passing buildings through the window.
Your side profile was illuminated beautifully, but he could hardly relish the sight as he normally would have, not when you had thrown his thoughts into such disarray. You wanted to leave? Why couldn't you just forget about your old friends? Weren’t the new ones enough? He had finally made his home yours. He loved you. He would do anything for you. Anything except let you go.
The comfort lasted for exactly three days.
On Monday, you found you didn't have much of an appetite and opted to visit a small, local cafe for a small pick-me-up. It was a quaint and homey place, in a quieter section of the city. Caleb had recommended it to you on the very first weekend in Skyhaven, raving about the ham and cheese croissant. You had been there with him several times since, now heavily associating the place with his warm laughter.
Today, you were alone, not wanting to deprive Pen or Evelyn of a decent meal just because you weren't in the mood. The regular barista you usually saw wasn't there, though you guessed that made sense since you were here at an entirely different time of day than usual. Instead, it was a young man with short-cropped hair, looking decidedly bored with everything around him.
“Welcome in,” he greeted. “What can I get for you?”
“A small vanilla latte and an almond croissant, please,” you answered, digging through your purse for your wallet.
“You got it,” he said, already getting to work on the coffee. You waited patiently off to the side, not really paying attention to much around you until your name was called to get your order. You didn't think much of it at first, but then his words hit you like a bucket of ice water. You never gave your name.
You collected your items, but called out to stop him from walking away. “How did you know my name?” you asked, heart racing in your chest. He looked like a deer in the headlights, his bored expression now one of someone who had made a grave mistake. He didn't answer, only apologized that he was busy and didn't have time for idle chatter.
You hurried back to the office, unsure how to tell Caleb you would likely never return to the cafe that had become a favorite casual date spot. You decided to find answers yourself before telling him. The next morning, you left extra early to have time to drop by. The bell above the door chimed as you walked in, and the barista you usually saw was back behind the counter. She glanced over at the door after hearing the bell, her posture going ramrod straight, almost seeming to recognize you.
You approached the counter apprehensively. She flashed you a blinding smile and welcomed you in, her customer service dial turned as far as it could go with her artificially cheery tone. “Hey, I’m looking for the barista who was here yesterday. Short, dark hair? Was on the clock around noon?”
She looked at you, puzzled. “We don't have anyone here that looks like that, I’m sorry. But if you're ready to order, I can certainly help with that!”
“No, he was here yesterday,” you said, bile rising in your throat. Something was so terribly wrong, even if you couldn't quite pinpoint just what it was yet. “He made my drink.”
“I’m sorry, ma'am, but you must be mistaken.” Her smile hadn't wavered once, only changed from the megawatt one that it had been when you first walked in to an apologetic one. “Can I get anything started for you?” She tried again.
You shook your head, leaving without another word. You couldn't shake the distinct feeling that something was off.
The rest of the week passed by quietly, with nothing else out of the ordinary. You went to work, kissed Caleb goodbye, talked to Evelyn and Pen over lunch, went home, and spent your evenings curled up with your boyfriend. By Saturday morning, you had nearly settled back into the mundane comfort of everyday life.
Caleb had been called in for a briefing, and you found yourself needing to work off the restless energy. You figured you might as well be productive and grabbed a broom, determined to have the house spotless by the time Caleb returned. You were sweeping the hallway when you noticed his office door — which was always closed and locked — was cracked open, an unheard of occurrence from the man who had never once forgotten to secure it, the files and paperwork within far too important.
You knew you shouldn't, but you couldn't help yourself. You propped the broom against the wall and pushed the door open, walking in slowly. It was meticulously organized, not so much as a single pen out of place. You stepped closer, reaching out for a manila folder with the fleet’s insignia on it. The first thing that greeted you when you opened it was your own face. You were so startled you nearly dropped the folder altogether.
You scanned the page, finding all the information about you that anyone could ever want to know. All the basic personal details, such as your name and birthday, but beyond that, it also included your blood type, medical history, daily routines, and even a brief list of your favorite things as well as dislikes. Your entire life was printed in front of you in black and white.
Your heart was beating against your ribcage so hard it felt like it was trying to escape. Swallowing thickly, you continued flipping through the document, feeling more and more sick with each one you saw. Though they were far less detailed than yours, there was a file for Evelyn, Penelope, Burbank, and even the mystery barista. All low-ranking members of the fleet. All assigned to you with specific instructions about how to behave around you.
Numb with shock, your eyes drifted to the computer that had been left on, the screen idling. You shook the mouse, and a digital map of Skyhaven was pulled up. At the very center was a pulsating crimson dot hovering over the house. Without confirmation, you already knew exactly who that dot was tracking.
Not knowing what else to do, you put everything back exactly as it was. You backed out of the room, clicking it shut this time. For the next forty-eight hours, you gave the performance of your life. When Caleb came home, you kissed him as usual. You cooked dinner. You talked about each other’s days. You curled into his side and let him stroke your hair when it was time to sleep. You just had to make it to Monday, when you both returned to work. Then, you would have your window to run.
When Monday came, you slid from your desk, not bothering to answer Evelyn’s questioning look. You ignored Penny’s calls to you as well; your mind made up that you had to get to the train station as soon as possible. You’d barely made it to the end of the block when you rounded a corner and ran directly into what felt like a wall. Before you’d even looked up, you knew you’d have to lie through your teeth. You recognized that uniform.
Glancing up, you were met with Caleb's purple eyes staring down at you, his brows furrowed. “Where are you going in such a rush?” he asked, concern dripping from his words. “Do you feel sick? Need to go home? You seem a little flushed.” He raised his free hand to your forehead, checking your temperature.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were on duty today,” you asked, wondering just how he had gotten there so fast.
He held up one of his hands, drawing your attention to a take-out bag from one of your go-to spots. “I thought we could have lunch together,” he said sheepishly. “But if you’re not well, you’re probably not very hungry either.”
You nodded, once again resigned to pretending everything was normal.
“Let’s go home,” he said softly, taking your hand in his and leading the way. The workday wasn't even over, and you obviously weren't able to leave quite yet, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about any repercussions. Given that your boss was stationed by the fleet, there likely wouldn't be any repercussions at all.
Caleb didn't act any differently than normal, fussing over your well-being and insisting you get some rest as soon as you were back home. He was no fool. He knew you’d finally realized, yet he clung to the illusion that he had so carefully curated. He desperately didn't want you to be afraid of him.
He stayed by your side until you fell asleep, and he was gone when you woke. You wasted no time throwing a duffel bag together, your hands shaking as they violently zipped the bag shut. It was harder to walk out the door than you thought it was. Your heart was bleeding for what could have been, for what should have been. You stood in the kitchen, looking around the space, memories coming to you unbidden. Caleb at the stove, an apron the only thing covering his chest; the first morning after moving in, when he hugged you from behind; the living room that had hosted countless movie nights. Was all of that fake, too?
Your vision was becoming blurry with tears that you wiped as soon as they fell. The hardest part of it all was that a part of you still wanted to stay. To pretend your relationship was as perfect as you always thought. You still loved him. Loved the man who prepped your coffee in the morning, the man who rubbed the tension from your shoulders after a long day, the man you thought you’d marry someday.
You steeled your heart to the best of your ability, pushing down both memories and your heartbreak. Making sure to leave your phone on the counter so that the incriminating red dot would remain in the house, you walked out the door.
———
The train station was winding down for the night with just a few stragglers left. You approached the ticket window, pushing your civilian ID through the slot. “One way to Linkon, please. The next available train.”
The ticket seller, an older man with tired eyes, slid your card through the electronic reader. For a second, the system chimed normally. Then, a sharp ring cut through the glass. The screen in front of the man flashed bright red. You watched the color drain from his face, his posture going rigid as he stared at the alert on his monitor. He looked at you, his eyes wide. “I’m…I’m sorry, ma'am, but the lower tracks are under maintenance. There won't be any more trains for the night.”
“What?” your voice pitched higher, a cold panic exploding in your chest. “What about tomorrow?”
The man shrugged helplessly. “The system is locked. I can't help you, I'm sorry. If it’s urgent, you can come by first thing in the morning to check.”
You backed away from the window, your mind racing. What now?
You couldn't call anyone from home, you couldn't call your “friends” here, and you couldn't leave the island. Surely local law enforcement still had some integrity. That singular thought is what kept your legs moving all the way to a local station, pushing open the heavy doors. The lobby was sterile, smelling of industrial cleaner.
Behind the security desk sat a low-ranking Fleet officer. His posture was relaxed until he looked up and caught sight of you, breathless and trembling.
“Miss, are you alright?” He stood up immediately, concerned.
“The trains are down,” you choked out. “And my phone stopped working. Please, I need to get to Linkon. Is there any other way?”
The officer blinked, taking in your frantic state. A flash of genuine pity crossed his features. “Calm down, miss. The Coelum Express is experiencing a temporary failure. I’m sure it’ll be back up in no time. But if it’s imperative that you get there, I’ll see what can be done.” He gestured to the empty lobby. “Why don't you take a seat?”
You nodded slowly, gratefully sinking into the hard plastic chair, your knee bouncing up and down with nervous energy. Through the glass partition, you watched him sit back down, his fingers flying across the keyboard.
You let out a breath you felt like you had been holding for hours. Someone was really helping you.
At the desk, the officer pulled up a transportation request form. “Miss?” he called out across the quiet lobby, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I need your full name to complete the request.” You gave it, your voice much softer now that your heart rate was finally returning to baseline. “Thank you. Just one moment, please,” he replied warmly, typing in the letters and hitting enter.
You didn't see what happened next. You were looking down at your hands, completely unaware of how the color drained from the officer’s face as he read the warning that flashed across the screen.
WARNING: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. ASSET UNDER CUSTODIAL JURISDICTION OF COLONEL XIA.
The officer’s fingers froze over the keys, reading the warning over and over, specifically the name that had ice flowing through his veins. The officer couldn't bring himself to look at you, so much more than the stranded civilian he had believed you to be. He pitied you. He really did. But it was out of his hands, now.
Forcing his voice to remain flat and neutral, he kept his eyes focused solely on the screen. “Alright, miss, I just need a supervisor’s approval, and then you’ll be all set.”
“Thank you,” you murmured gratefully, offering a small, fragile smile of relief. You watched him disappear into the back offices, entirely oblivious that the officers were already phoning the colonel.
Five minutes passed. Then ten. You were starting to worry that something was wrong when you heard the door to the station open again. You glanced over, expecting to see another citizen or perhaps another officer of the station. Instead, what greeted you was the intimidating figure of the very man you had worked so hard to get away from.
He was still in full uniform, cap and all, looking every bit the colonel everyone else saw, and for once, you did too, rather than your boyfriend. It lasted only a moment, his eyes softening with such profound relief when he saw you, and he was back to looking like your Caleb.
He walked towards you, offering a hand for you to take. You felt something break inside you, looking over to the desk to see the officer had returned, his head tilted down in a display of shame. There was nowhere for you to go. There was nothing you could do. With no other options, you slid your hand into his. You stood, and he cupped your face, directing you to look up at him. “I was so worried about you, Pips,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. You didn't reply, trying to reconcile that you’d never go back to the way things were before. “Let’s go home, yeah?” he said softly, looking at you like a pet that had wandered a little too far from home.
Before leaving, Caleb turned to the officer. “Thank you for your vigilance, Adjutant.”
He didn't speak on the ride home, and neither did you. In fact, you didn't even move, like prey hoping to avoid a predator’s notice. Not that it mattered when you were already in the passenger seat of his car.
It wasn't until the front door shut behind the pair of you and the lock clicked into place that he finally spoke, placing his cap on the entryway table.
“Why did you leave, Pips? Don't I make you happy?” he asked, his voice cracking with agonizing sorrow. You remained silent, choking back sobs. You tried to walk around him, keeping your head down, but he caught your arm. “No. Don't do that. You can't just walk away from me,” he pleaded. “I’ve done everything to make you happy. To keep you safe. I thought we were happy.”
“Why?” was the only thing you could muster, tears welling up in your eyes and strangling your voice.
Caleb seemed caught off guard, but didn't hesitate to answer as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because I love you.”
“This isn't love, Caleb, this is a lie,” you sobbed, grabbing onto his wrists. “I don't understand. How did you even—” you couldn't finish, your legs giving way under you. Caleb went down with you, pulling you into his chest as you cried, stroking your hair the way he always did.
“Having you here is what keeps me here, and the Fleet wouldn’t replace me easily. But they didn't understand that you are my priority.” He pulled back just enough to look at your tear-stained face, his eyes dark with all-consuming devotion. “I was worried about you moving here. What if you didn't adjust well? What if you got homesick? It was distracting. In a world where you were protected and happy, I wouldn't have to worry so much. It was all for you.”
You buried your face back into his chest, your body wracked with sobs. The crushing weight of his confession paralyzed you. And the absolute sickening tragedy of it all was that you still loved him. You didn't want to leave him, to give up the happiness you had with him. You were entirely horrified by the lengths he had gone to and the scale of his deception, but more than his lies, you were trapped by the depth of your own feelings for him. You couldn't stop loving him, even if it meant choosing your own captivity.
Sensing your compliance, Caleb let out a sigh of relief. He scooped you into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, laying you gently on the mattress and crawling in beside you, his arm over your waist, holding you tightly against him.
“Everything will be okay. I promise,” he whispered into the quiet of the room. “You just have to stay with me.” He paused, pressing a kiss into your hairline. “I love you. So much.”
Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to relax into his hold, your heart clenching in your chest. “I love you, too,” you admitted. And you did. You really, truly did.
It really shouldn’t have bothered Zayne this much.
You’re his girlfriend. Undeniably and utterly just his. So why did it boil his blood whenever you were mistaken to be Caleb’s girlfriend?
There was the time when you had only just made it official and had not told anybody yet. Caleb had accompanied you for a check-up, when Dr Greyson and Dr Zayne passed by and spotted you only for Greyson to say something along the lines of, “hey, how are you and your girlfriend?”
Zayne’s blood pressure visibly spiked at the casual assumption, but it was just slightly eased when you corrected Greyson and accepted his apologies for making the mistake. Your real boyfriend made it a point to link your fingers together throughout the conversation and press a kiss to your head before departing.
He really snapped when it came to a work function of yours. What was originally supposed to be a proper introduction to your co-workers turned into a nightmare for Zayne.
“Oh, your boyfriend is Zayne?” Tara asks, as sweet as ever. You can’t help but furrow your brows in confusion.
“Who did you think I meant when I told you ‘he finally asked me’ then?”
“No offense, but I thought you were talking about Caleb. I’m so happy for you two though!” Tara quickly moves on from her first assumption. Although she expressed her genuine support for your new relationship, you noticed Zayne remained stiff and a bit distant towards her.
“Boyfriend? I thought your boyfriend was that Caleb guy?” Nero asks, genuinely confused as he sips on some sparkling water and looks between you and Zayne.
“Caleb is just someone I grew up with. Zayne is my partner,” you justify through clenched teeth. Zayne’s eyes haze over with that blank look again, the peculiar look that you recognise as your boyfriend doing his darndest not to react too rashly.
Zayne politely excuses himself from the chat. You follow him, a bit dejected that your announcements of being together haven't gone as planned.
“Why is everyone making the same assumption?” Zayne asks as you two find a corner. There’s stress evident between his brows and his lips are all chewed up from his restraint.
“I don't know, Zayne. I didn't expect this either,” you mumble, reaching out to hold his hands in yours.
“It's that Caleb. He must be doing this on purpose,” Zayne almost seethes.
“That’s a bit of a reach–”
Zayne is out of your sight before you can finish your sentence. He’s always been the type to prefer to process things by himself, he hovers over the drinks table and slowly warms up to you again by the end of the night.
Your car windows are foggy, streaked with fingerprints from your desperate attempts to ground yourself as Zayne ravishes you. He’s already sitting in a seat that’s slightly reclined back with you straddling his lap, both of you already half undressed from the travel to the car.
With the tiny break between your lips you manage to whisper, “let’s go home.”
“We’re in the backseat. I believe we knew what this would come to,” Zayne murmurs, nose grazing the side of your neck. You couldn’t deny that you were a little excited by the thrill that came with the prospect of doing it in the car, but the rational side of you won for a second.
“I know, but someone could see us.”
Zayne looks at the fogged up window and the faint blur of the almost empty parking lot beyond the outside.
“So? Maybe then they’ll get a good idea of who you chose to be with.”
“They really pissed you off,” you say. You try to get something more out of Zayne, but he’s busy trailing his kisses down from your neck. He gets busier burying his face between your tits, pulling your bra out of the way and marking you up all over your chest. He leaves little sucks and licks all over your skin, littering red bite marks everywhere.
His hand disappears down your panties, fingers expertly rubbing your clit until he can feel the slide become easier from your slick.
“People should know I’m the one making you feel good,” Zayne rasps, pumping two fingers faster into your pussy. Warmth coils itself into your lower half, fingers curled into his hair as you’re completely snatched from words.
He shifts his cock from the confines of his pants, tentatively moving your panties out of the way with his tip before sinking in with no warning. It makes you gasp more, but it isn’t unwelcome.
“Say my name. How will you tell everyone who your boyfriend is?”
Zayne’s hands are planted firmly at your hips, drilling into you repeatedly with no show of backing down.
“Zay- Zayne! Zayne is!” You whimper in response. Your body slightly bounces in his lap with every upward thrust of his hips that drive his dick deeper into you. Your hand grips hopelessly at the door of the car, finding a pause at the panel.
“That’s it,” he groans.
Zayne’s cum spurts out, coating the insides of your pussy but he keeps his harsh pace consistent until you feel the uncoiling of warmth making you cum as well.
His eyes drag appreciatively over your body. He then locks on where you both are conjoined, where his cum is leaking out of your pussy like a dam on the brink of collapse.
“Jealousy is certainly an irrational reaction,” Zayne quietly admits, scooping up some of the liquid at the juncture of your thighs.
“So you were jealous of Caleb?”
He sighs. “Irrational,” he repeats. “For safe measures, you should sleep over at mine tonight.”
synopsis. spending ebb day together as friends... will you still be friends afterwards?
pairing. rafayel qi x lemurian! non-mc! reader
content/mdni. A TON OF FUCKING. fem!reader, lemurian!reader, non-mc!reader, friends!au, friends-with-benefits!au, more level-headed!reader, dom-then-sub!reader, sub-then-dom!rafayel, needy!rafayel and reader, mean!rafayel, mean!reader, possessive!rafayel, slight dumbification, mention of masturbating (m solo), begging (m and f receiving), cunnilingus with MONSTER TONGUE, cow girl sex, doggy style sex, missionary sex, one cock sex, two cock sex, DOUBLE PENETRATION, OVIPOSITION, MONSTER FUCKING MONSTER, TON OF CUM, CUM PLAY, hair pulling, spanking, protected sex, raw sex, multiple rounds, allusions to anal sex, overstimulation, tummy bulge, teasing, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, partner/mate, good/sweet girl, whore, slut, cockslut, all the good stuff lmaoo), kissing!! SCENT KINK, HAND KINK, TON OF SWEAT, TW: BLOOD, marking, mentions of breeding, mentions of mating.
word count. 8.5k
a/n. prepare your panties! please tell me your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!
the first time it happened, it was an accident.
just two people hanging out, forgetting the current date. just two people, so absorbed by their newly founded human existence that they sidetracked their origins.
just two lemurians, friends since childhood, who, because of circumstances, were pulled together by raw desire to spend the changing of the currents as one.
the first time it happened, it was an accident. the other instances, however, were deliberate.
•••
you were standing in the fluorescent-lit purgatory of the 24/7 convenience store, a basket hanging from your elbow with an xl pack of condoms already inside.
“what else, what else…”
the air conditioning was too cold, raising goosebumps on your arms, brushing over the sprinkle of scales already adorning your skin. the cool air was combatting the warmth from the outside, but there was a deeper heat slowly coiling low in your belly, pulsing harder and harder, overtaking your very being quietly — a heat that couldn’t be tamed by the artificiality of the cooling device.
you’ve been feeling it for hours. the telltale thrum, the hypersensitivity of your skin, the way your gums ache faintly where your fangs wanted to push through.
ebb day is tomorrow. officially.
you still have a few hours to prepare.
your phone unexpectedly buzzed against your skin, a frantic, continuous tremor that has you fumbling for it. rafayel’s name light up the screen, a silly picture of him trembling together with the vibrations.
you swiped to answer, a teasing remark already on your lips.
“if you’re calling to back out–”
“please.” his voice cut you off, and it sounded wrong. it was not the smooth, sultry baritone he usually wielded like a weapon, articulating witty remarks at your expense. it was breathless, strained, cracking at the edges. “please, come over.”
you froze between aisles, your hand tightening on the phone. “rafayel?”
“i need you.” a low, fractured whine escaped him, and the needy sound went straight to your core, igniting the latent heat into a sudden, roaring blaze. “it’s… it’s early. it’s so early. i thought i had more time but it’s… i need you now.”
you could picture him too clearly.
at his seaside manor, in the vast, luxurious bedroom, with the curtains wide open, welcoming the full moon. rafayel, welcoming you, sprawled on his massive bed, his pale skin flushed and beaded with sweat, his hair a disheveled mess of purple.
you imagined him grasping his phone with a trembling hand, spotted with scales, his pupils blown wide, his lips parted in gasps.
fangs peeking through oh so beautifully.
“i’m at the store.” you said, your voice coming out rougher than you intended, your own state suddenly worsening due to rafayel’s intervention. “i’m getting the things. i’ll be there after checkout–”
“no.” he gasped immediately, and the desperation in his voice was loud, a hook that sunk into your chest and pulled you like a fish out of waters. “too long. ugh– i can’t– please. i can’t wait anymore. i feel like i’m burning up. we have everything here, so...”
“i need you. please, please, just ahhhh– come here.”
the plea was a whisper, broken and sweet, and that did it for you. you’ve always been weak for him. in this human form, in your true one, it didn’t matter; he had you wrapped around his pinky finger since you were children, even if he didn’t always know it.
“raf…”
you wanted to say something stubborn, to remind him that you were buying the very supplies he’ll be grateful for later, but another whimper came through the line, and your resolve crumbled to the ground.
“fine.” you heard yourself say, already turning and abandoning your basket on a shelf, condoms and all. “i’m coming right now. stay on the line.”
he let out a soft, relieved sound, and you could’ve sworn a sloshing noise accompanied his tune. “okay. f–fuck– okay.”
you left the store at a near-jog, the warm night air hitting your flushed cheeks.
the moon was almost up, a perfect, luminous circle in the sky, yet too bright, too full. it made your blood sing, your skin prickling with more and more clusters of scales.
you could still hear rafayel’s breathing on the other end of the line, quick and uneven, punctuated by tiny, swallowed sounds that he’s probably trying to hide.
that, and low, wet sounds — most likely his hand moving lazily up and down his stiff cock.
“tell me how you’re feeling.” you said as you slid into your car, your hand steady on the wheel even as everything inside you was starting to shake.
you have to keep your composure for just a little longer.
you also have to keep rafayel in check and make sure he doesn’t tip over.
“hot.” he breathed into the phone. “everything’s s–shit– too hot. my clothes… i took them off already. i’m just in the sheets. i nghnn– keep thinking about your hands.” his voice dropped, becoming that familiar, teasing cadence even through the haze of the heat.
“you have such nice hands. so soft– ngh– i keep thinking about them on ahh– me. groping me, pinning me down. do you think you can do that?”
your fingers tightened on the steering wheel, your knuckles whitening at his request. “rafayel.”
“i want you to.” he continued, his voice a low, needy murmur. the sticky sounds raised in intensity, no longer just background noise. “i need you so bad. i need you on top of me, baby.”
you pushed the accelerator harder, running a stop sign you didn’t even register. the streets blurred under your hazy vision, the city lights smearing into streaks of color. the heat inside you was building up with every word of his, with every little gasp and hitch of his breath.
rafayel was doing a phenomenal job at riling you up.
“what are you thinking about?” he asked all of a sudden, his voice a silken thread that woke you up. “are you thinking about me?”
“yes.” you admitted bluntly, the word torn from you without much effort.
“nhgh… t–tell me, baby.”
“the way you look when you’re between my thighs.” your voice was steady, booming from the speakers of his phone, but your hands were shuddering now. fingernails threatening to elongate into monstrously sharp claws. “the way you eat me out so good.”
he groaned, a breathless, shattered sound, and his hand sped up. the wetness staining his cock was palpable, the sound harsh yet delicate. “f–fuck yeah, i wanna taste your cunt so bad.”
a pause, then his voice murmured a confession once more. “i need to bury my face in you. i need to smell you. ahhhh– bet you’re drenched already, can almost s–sniff it from here.”
he was right. since the beginning of your conversation, the flimsy material of your panties was nothing but sticky. each and every request of his, delving into his nastiest wishes, generated more gooey arousal, effectively coating your panties in a generous amount of slick.
it also did not help that you were a lemurian, normally producing more slick than a mere human.
thankfully, you were pulling through the gates of his estate, the tires of your car crunching on the gravel driveway. you didn’t even bother parking properly — just killed the engine and eft the car where it stopped.
“i’m here.” you said into the phone, your legs carrying you up the front steps without waiting for another invite.
you swung the door open without a second thought.
rafayel was standing at the end of the hallway, and the sight of him made your clit throb.
he was fully naked, his skin gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat, his hair plastered to his temples. his chest was heaving, his pupils so dilated that his irises were reduced to thin rings of purple. but it was the scales that caught your attention — a scattering of iridescent, pearl-white scales along his cheekbones, down his neck, across his shoulders.
painting his skin, lower and lower.
going beyond the base of his aching cock.
the scales shimmered in the moonlight, catching the light like tiny mirrors.
“baby!” his eyes found yours, and he smiled — a beautiful, unhinged grin, all sharp teeth and raw need. “you came.” he breathed, relieved, taking wobbly steps towards you.
he was deeply affected by the rising full moon, hands jumping away from his sides and searching for support onto the walls.
you were soon to be deeply affected as well as your nostrils inhaled the pheromones dominating the entire mansion: the smell was terrifically strong, a pungent odor that lulled you towards primal desires. you almost stumbled backward from the powerful aroma, palm shooting up and covering the bottom half of your face in an attempt to protect your senses.
“f–fuck, the smell…”
you needed to remain levelheaded.
you needed to remain the rational one, since rafayel was clearly indulging fully in the effects of the moon.
but it was hard. you could already feel your fans poking through your gums, could already sense the tremble in your body as rafayel caught up to you.
your entire being was calling for him, just like his own called for you.
his quivering hands clawed at your dress, pulling you fully inside, the door slamming shut behind you two and effectively trapping you in his den. taking advantage of the defensive stance you took, he manhandled you against the closest wall, caging you perfectly, his body a line of burning heat against yours.
“ah, ah, ah, you…” his face instantly found your neck, burying itself in the seductive dip between your throat and shoulder. and, with a loud whiff, rafayel inhaled your own tumbling pheromones. “ahhh– smell so fucking good.”
he did not stop at that, nuzzling further into your skin, dragging the tip of his nose up towards your pulse point, punctuating the spot right behind your ear. with that, he managed to caress a patch of sensitive scales, eliciting a moan out of your hidden lips, forcing your palm to abandon its post to tangle in his messy locks.
“baby, please, pull ugh– my hair, please.” he started to beg as he felt your fingers latch onto the roots of his hair, body curving into yours more and more.
his legs snuck their way between your own, parting your thighs and allowing his knee to dip into the material of your dress and make contact with your clothed pussy. his arms flew away too, finally taking hold of your torso and putting you into a needy embrace.
“raf, i–”
your voice echoed in his ears, blessing him with the delicious shudder of your tone. but something was wrong, he slowly realized between his hazy thoughts — you have yet to make your move, you have yet to show the same neediness he has been carrying for hours.
“i–is something wrong? no, please, baby…”
he removed his face from your neck, abandoning his mission to devour your scent gland in favor of discovering what was holding you back. a strong feeling of anxiety shook his entire body, and memories of abandonment flashed between his obscene fantasies.
changing the atmosphere entirely.
“go on, raf, it’s okay–”
“n–no.”
you couldn’t resist him, especially not now.
he decided to perch his head on your chest, entire body slouched over your own, and look up at you with his lust-filled orbits. the pout on his lips was dangerous, accessorized by his long and sharp fangs. his legs were now practically glued to yours… and you could feel his heavy cock pressing against your thigh.
“do you not want me, baby?”
oh, he was gonna be the death of you.
“raf, someone h–ngh–as to be rational, i can’t give into pleas–”
“we will be careful, like always…” he cut you off enthusiastically, tightening his hold on your midriff to block any kind of escape. worse, he dipped his face lower into your chest, pressing right against your exposed sternum… and sticking his tongue out to taste your sweaty skin.
“rafayel.” you warned through gritted teeth, gripping the base of his scalp and pulling his head back. but he was ready for such an action, simply letting out more length of his monstrous tongue and continuing his perverse ministration across the peaks of your breasts.
“i k–know what will help!” he chirped between licks, and the sensation of his rough, elongated tongue tracing the delicate flesh of your chest made your resolve shake.
you tried to hold firm, to remember the reasons why someone needed to stay level-headed, but he was a master of persuasion: his hands, which had been so needy and clammy, slid down your hips with a slow, teasing pace. and he stopped when he reached the fabric of your short skirt, fingers twitching at the hem.
“just a taste.” he whispered, long tongue retracting from your skin to wet his lips. “i ugh– to taste your pussy, baby. please.”
his voice was a raspy, desperate plea, and the sight of his body — the way he pressed himself against you, precum wetting the ends of your dress — broke something in you. you were supposed to be the rational one, but the pheromones were a thick haze in your lungs, intoxicating your very being.
your own body betrayed you, the ache between your thighs becoming a pulsing, insistent throb. your firm grip on his hair lessened, hand guiding his head unconsciously down your body, moving him in line with your center.
“ah– j–just a bit...” you breathed, your voice shaking now. “but then we m–”
move to the bedroom — he didn’t let you finish.
a submissive, relieved groan escaped him, and he was already sliding down your body. his bare knees hit the floor with a sharp thud, but he didn’t flinch. you tried to steady yourself, but rafayel had other plans — hiking your right leg up his shoulder, spreading you wide open for him. and you were taken by surprise, fingers curling and pushing his head around from the sudden movement.
“f–fuck yeah.”
he let out a sharp, encouraging moan against your exposed thigh, and you felt his lips press a wet kiss on the newly exposed patch of skin of your knee.
his hands shoot up, scattering the hem of your dress. he pushed the material up around your waist, silently prompting you to hold it down and away from him. the cool air of the hallway licked at your exposed thighs, prickling at your scale-scattered skin.
his gaze dropped, and he stared at the sight before him, cock twitching between his bent legs. the wet spot on your panties was dark and obscene, the cotton perfectly clinging to the shape of your pussy. you were absolutely soaked through, arousal escaping the comfort of your underwear in order to stain your inner thighs.
the rims around his blown-out pupils turned a bright blue, and a devouring hunger flashed across his features.
“oh, my baby.” he breathed, the words almost a whimper. “you’re s–so wet for me. i bet it h–hurts so much.”
he didn’t wait for an actual answer as he leaned forward to thoroughly inspect you. his nose pressed into the damp fabric, and he inhaled deeply, a tremble running through his body as he feasted on your scent. he nuzzled against the soaked cotton, his sharp fangs grazing your sensitive flesh through the thin barrier, and your knees nearly buckled.
your hand forced his head deeper instead of pulling it away, a silent surrender to the powers of the moon.
he took the signal with a groan of satisfaction. his tongue snaked out, long and monstrous, and he dragged the wide, flat of it across the dark spot. he licked slowly, savoring you through the fabric, his eyes rolling back from the aroma.
“you ahh– s’ good.” he mumbled against the fabric, his voice muffled by the fabric and his groans.
but he needed more than just soaked panties. so, with a swipe of his tongue, he wrapped the length twice around the gusset of your panties, tugging the material downwards. you felt the wet cotton drag along your sensitive flesh as it was removed, exposing your cunt entirely to his burning gaze.
“r–raf, please.”
he saw everything: your wet, swollen flesh glistened in the dim light, your clit engorged and peeking out from its hood. a fresh glob of your arousal slid down your inner thigh, and his adam’s apple bobbed at the bodily reaction.
“babyyy…” his breathing hitched, and he slowed down, his entire being focused on the sight and scent of you. “look at you.” he muttered, his voice heavy by lust. “so beautiful, so mesmerizing.”
and before you could form a response, he dived in. his lips glued onto you, and his tongue — still a long, monstruous muscle — latched onto your entire cunt. he licked a wide, flat stroke from your oozing entrance to your pulsing clit, and the feeling of his wet mouth against your slick flesh made you whine.
he did it again, and again, building a rhythm that was ruining you from the inside out. he was starved, licking and sucking and slurping you like an intoxicated man who knew no other flavour.
“rafayel, r–fa–yel!”
you threw your head back, the wall cold against your skull, as you fought for composure. but it was a losing battle: his mouth was too skilled, too curious to discover your pussy. he found every sensitive nerve with the tip of his tongue, swirling around your clit until you were seeing stars, then dropping down to probe at your entrance.
licking up the streams of your juices like they were the only source of water in the world.
you made the mistake of looking down at him. he was on his knees before you, his body trembling with the effort of restraint and desire. his eyes were heavy-lidded, focused solely on his task, and his gills —delicate, slit-like openings on his neck — fluttered slightly as he breathed through them, allowing him to remain glued to you without a pause for air.
he was relentless, dedicated.
he needed you to tip over into your animalistic side.
“i– oh, fuck–”
your voice cracked and morphed into a high, unhinged moan as he circled his tongue around your clit, wrapping it tightly with its length while he sucked the bundle of nerves with his lips. the tip of his tongue dipped lower treacherously, pushing against your greedy hole and effectively overflowing your mushy brain with pleasure.
your hips jerked forward of their own accord, and you felt your fingers drag through his hair, pulling him even tighter against you, demanding more even as you were overwhelmed.
“hmhmm– ngh–” he moaned into you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your pelvis.
his hands slid up your thighs, thumbs spreading your lips wider, giving him unrestricted access to every inch of your center. he worked on you with a desperate, submissive fervor, eating you out as if his existence depended on your pleasure.
and it was working. the feeling built and built in your tummy, a coil of heat tightened and tightened with every flick of his tongue.
“al’st.” he gasped, pulling away just enough to see the defeat in your eyes. his lips and chin were shining with your wetness, his sharp teeth shimmering as he smiled at you. “cum in my mouth, please.”
your resolve had shattered the moment his mouth had made contact. so you just nodded frantically, a sobbing whine escaping your lips, and he leaped at the signal. his mouth descended again with renewed vigor, long tongue focusing on your engorged bud. he sucked hard, creating a devastating pressure, while he simultaneously probed the back of his tongue against your entrance, massaging the contracting muscles.
“ah, i’m–”
you came with a cry that echoed down the empty hallway, your body arching off the wall as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through you. your hand forced his face deeper into you, and he drank everything, his moans of ecstasy vibrating against your sensitive flesh as he swallowed your release.
and he didn’t stop. he kept licking, easing you through the shaking aftermath, his eyes locked on your trembling form with a satisfied, devouring gleam.
“ah, a–ah, ah.”
when you finally opened your eyes, you had a good look at his needy, disheveled face, still resting between your thighs. his lips and chin were slick with you, his long tongue still lazily licking at your flesh as if he couldn’t bear to lose the taste. his gills fluttered rapidly, and he smiled up at you — temporary satiated by your pussy.
… or so you thought.
“g–go again?” he pleaded, his voice high-pitched and weak. “please, please, please, ple–”
and you knew why he was begging so arduously: gazing downwards at the floor, you soon realized that he also spilled his release, most likely pushed over the edge by your own orgasm. the floorboards were covered in a thick layer of cum, white and sticky substance staining his thigh and your own resting foot.
“please, baby, one more time– i love your pussy, i–”
you were still trembling from your own climax, chest heaving, gills fluttering on the sides of your neck. but something in his desperate, submissive tone made you sit up straighter, an ounce of rationality still guiding you. yeah, you felt the wetness between your thighs, the echo of his tongue still a pulsing memory, but you knew that you were far from satiated.
the moon’s pull was still in your bones, and his pheromones were a thick haze in the air.
you reached down, took a handful of his wet hair, and pulled his face away from your cunt. the slick was thick, mixed with his saliva, and it created a strong, sticky bridge between his lips and your nether ones.
“m–move…” you commanded, your voice coming out fragmented, tainted by your orgasm and the heat. “bedroom, now.”
his eyes flashed with relief, and he nodded so quickly that his locks flipped against his temples. “yes– yes, baby, anything.” with obedient, trembling hands, he pushed himself up from his knees, his muscular thighs quivering as he rose. he was still weeping, his cock stiff and red, the tip glistening with his own release.
but he made no move to wipe it away, fixated on obtaining you.
before you could step forward, he enveloped you in his arms, both hands sliding under your knees and lifting you as if you were made of feathers. your legs latched around his hips on instinct, your dress riding up to your waist, your naked slick pussy pressing against his abs. he took off with long, hurried steps, his legs no longer staggering.
“c’mere.”
his mouth was on yours before you could process his words.
“so ngh– good t’ me.” he mumbled against your lips, his tongue sharing your aroma. “so beautiful, so perfect– i’m ugh– not deserving.” he kissed you with a wide, open mouth, his sharp fangs grazing your lower lip as he pushed your dress higher with each push.
his words were a stream of subservient praises — celebrating your benevolence in assisting him with his heat — as he carried you through the living room and into the wide, disheveled bedroom. and his mouth never stopped; he fully slurped at your lips, devouring your mouth with the same fervor he ate your pussy.
he loved to caress your fangs with his tongue, grunting between lick as you were finally showing signs of turning.
“ah, ah…”
when he reached the giant bed, he turned and sat down on it, his back leaning against the headboard with a soft thud. he kept you on his lap, your knees straddling his hips, your soaked cunt hovering just above his twitching, dripping cock. his hands were instantly on your body tugging away at the dress, removing it from your body and letting your scale-splotched skin to bask in the full moon.
his sharp digits took a hold of your full hips, nails digging into the soft flesh as he tried to lower your body onto his.
“please, baby.” he breathed, his hips rolling upwards on instinct, his bare cock sliding against your wet slit. “i need to feel you around me– please, i fuck–”
you reached around, your hand finding the nightstand and its drawer, your fingers closing around a square packet. as you were retrieving it, his hands worked all over you, groping your waist, your tits, your thighs with a restless, ravenous need. his cock was jumping against your thigh with each squish of your body, impatient to ease into you.
“let m–me help.” he whispered as he saw you struggle. but you shook your head, at last ripping the packet open with your fangs.
the image made him groan — he loved when you used those fangs.
he wished you’d use them on him.
as you rolled the condom down his length with steady hand, your palm gliding over the latex as you smoothed it down the veiny cock, he gasped, his head throwing back against the headboard, his hips pushing up into your fist.
“fuck– baby, your hand, it’s ngh– so good, i’m gonna–” his words devolved into a strangled moan as you gave him a last, twisting stroke at the base, and he had to clench his jaw to keep from cumming right then.
his gills fluttered rapidly, and his hands clawed at the sheets, his white-knuckled grip the only thing keeping him grounded.
you left him hanging on the edge for a sweet moment, your eyes locked on his trembling stomach and the way his scales shimmered harder. then, with a slow movement, you raised yourself up on your knees, aligned the tip of his cock with your soaked entrance, and slowly began to sink down.
the sensation was electric. his length slid inside you in a smooth, velvety thrust, the latex making it easy but no less intense. you felt him stretch you, push past your greedy muscles that spasmed around him, and you gasped at the fullness. he moaned your name, vibrating against your chest as he pressed his forehead into your shoulder.
“so fucking tight– so wet–.”
“ah, raf, that’s mhm–”
you took a moment to adjust, to feel him settle deep inside you, to take in the way his tip was kissing your cervix. then you began to move — slow rolls of your hips, lifting and sinking, pulling him out until only the tip remained, then sliding back down to the hilt. your clit slapped deliciously against his muscles, and so did his heavy balls against your behind.
his hands flew to your hips again, guiding you, but he never tried to take control; he merely held you, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin of your hips with reverence.
“yes, that’s ngh– it, use me.” he implored, his voice breaking into high whinse as you picked up the pace. you rolled your hips in a figure eight, harshly grinding against him at the bottom, and his lips parted on a silent scream. “oh, oh fuck, right there, please, baby–”
you leaned forward, lips bitten, your palms braced against his chest, and you rode him with a ferocious need. every stroke was accompanied by his gasps, the sharp, slutty breaths strung together with your own traitorous ones into a rhythmic chant.
“so good, so good, i’m– please, please, let me cum inside, i beg you–”
his words were slurred, mind so thick with lust he forgot he had a condom on. but he was attentive to you, never taking his eyes off your bouncing body. when you sped up, your thighs burning with the effort, your clit brushing against his pubic bone with every downward thrust, his head lolled to the side in pleasure.
the sensation was heaven for you too: the way his cock hit that sweet spot inside you, vein pulsing just the right way against your walls, the way his hands trembled as they held you, the way his moans sounded like prayers…
“cum for me.” you allowed, your voice raspy and commanding, and that was all he needed.
with a broken whine, he threw his head back, his spine arching off the headboard as he spilled into the condom, his hips jerking up into you with ragged, uncontrollable spasms. his mouth opened in a silent shout and his hands clawed so hard into your hips you knew they would leave bruises.
the sight of him cumming, his face stretched in ecstasy, pushed you over the edge. you rode him through it all, your second climax building and building until it broke. your inner muscles clenching around him as you shuddered through your release.
he whimpered into the air like a mantra: “thank you, thank you, thank you–”.
after a few more seconds, you finally slowed down. with your gills working overtime, your body washed in sparkling sweat, you remained motionless, straddled over him. his aching cock was still inside you, spent once more that night.
but ebb day had just commenced, and a mere fuck was not the solution.
you were still trembling, his overstimulated cock still twitching inside you, when he shifted his hips upwards — a lazy, circular rock which sent a sharp spark through your oversensitive flesh. you whimpered, a needy tune that you hadn’t intended to let out; the sudden trust took you by surprise, hitting your walls in a way that made your whole being shiver.
he did it again, this time with a sharper thrust, his strong hands pushing you down into his cock, and your palms flattened against his chest in a vain attempt to put some distance between the two of you.
“raf– wait, slow d–ah–own a bit.” you gasped, your voice cracking, the overstimulation short circuiting your brain. “i need a second–”
his laugh was low and mean, a strong contrast to the high-pitched moans he freely let out a few minutes ago.
“slow down? why? you’re still aching for more.” his hands slid down your sides, gripping your thighs with a brutal firmness. his expression was no longer kind and pliant, the barely-there purple of his orbs changing into a blinding sapphire color.
he tutted at your scrunching face, digging his fingers harder into your skin and dragging you forth against his chest. “no, no, baby. i don’t like that.”
“raf?”
“you’re not gonna fight what you are. you’re a lemurian in heat, just like me… giving in is not a choice.”
before you could respond, he twisted out of you with a squelching, wet pop and shoved you forward onto the sheets. you tumbled onto the mattress, hands and knees catching you as he positioned you around like a puppet. his palm pressed the small of your back, forcing your spine into a beautiful arch, your face pressed into the pillows.
it happened in a blink of an eye, your body going pliant and obeying the desires of the man behind you. you could no longer see him, with your head buried in his cushions, but you could hear the shift of his weight as he knelt behind you, the heat of his body washing over your exposed skin.
shit, he was taking a dominant stance now — the predator inside him most likely no longer pleased by your ‘controlled’ approach to ebb day.
but you had to stay strong. you had to stop him from fulfilling the mating ritual since you were not his beloved. you had to–
“look at you.” he purred, his voice dripping with condescension, blue eyes taking in the sight before him: you, face down, ass up, supple flesh drenched and quivering with arousal. “so fucking wet… and you still have the nerve to tell me to slow down. pathetic.”
his fingers traced down your curved spine, pausing at the swell of your ass. then down to your used hole. with delicate fingers, he touched the gaping rim of the condom still lodged inside you, dragging it slightly out of you. you flinched, back arching even more, hips pushing into his touch unconsciously.
“a condom too… ruining all the fun.” he clicked his tongue, low and mean, but chose to abandon the rubber for now. he decided to reach around to find your clit, his skilled thumb pressing against it with just enough pressure to make you tremble into the sheets.
“you think you’re in charge, hm? you’re nothing but a slutty little whore who needs to be reminded of her place.”
he circled his thumb over your swollen bud, slow and torturous, while his other hand kept you pinned down. you whined, your hips pushing back instinctively, seeking more friction, but he was having none of it: he smacked your ass hard, the sharp slap echoing in the room as it landed on your flesh.
“don’t you dare act on your urges now. you’ll get what i give you, when i give it.” he warned as he increased the pressure on your clit, his movements forming teasing figure eights. you writhed against the sheets, tried to push back and speed him up, but his hand on your spine kept you arched and immobile.
“p–please.” you whined, your voice pitching high, now mirroring the state he was previously in— flushed face, dilated pupils, consumed by the urge to be used. “raf, i need–”
“you need to shut up and take what’s given.” he cut you off, his tone cold and superior. he removed his thumb without warning, and you whimpered in loss, eyes bubbling with tears from his cruelness. “see? that’s what you get for being impatient. now be a good girl and wait.”
wait?
for what?
he reached down, fingers curling around the rim of the condom still inside you. with a slow, torturous pull, he removed it. the sensation of the latex sliding out making you shiver, hole gaping in dissatisfaction. your cunt was practically begging for the rubber to return, for something to be inside it once more.
“greedy pussy.”
he pinched the tip of the condom, dangling it above your stinging flesh, and, with his thumb and index finger, he pressed and dragged out... letting the thick, white semen spill all across your ass. throwing the empty rubber away, he then smeared his cum over your cheeks with a rough, possessive stroke, making sure to dip his fingers over your asshole and the perineum.
the warm, sticky sensation made you cry out, and he laughed again.
“you like that, don’t you? being marked with my cum?” he rubbed the cum lower, into your slit, working it into your wet folds until you were dripping with a mixture of your arousal and his seed. “you were so dumb for putting on the condom.”
and with that vitriolic remark, he positioned himself behind you once more, the mushroom head of his engorged cock prodding at your slutty entrance. he rubbed it up and down, teasing the flesh without pushing in, controlling his urge to breed you for the sake of hearing you beg.
and you began to sob, pleas leaving your bitten lips with ease.
“p–please, raf, just fuck me, i need it so bad, please–”
“aww, look at you now — beg harder.” he purred, his tip still tracing slow circles over your hungry hole.
“please! please, rafayel, i beg you, just put it in, i’ll be good, just fuck me–”
“there it is.” he smirked, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “but oh, i’m sorry, baby– i think we’re out of condoms. what a shame.” his tone was condescending, and he rolled his hips just enough to press the head inside.
before pulling back. “i can’t–”
“i don’t care.” you babbled, your mind now a blur of heat and hunger. your previous carefulness was entirely wiped by your animalistic desire to be mounted and taken by rafayel. “j–just do it, fuck me raw! i need your ugh– cock inside me, please, raf–”
“finally.”
without other comments, he thrusted in one sharp, brutal motion. you screamed, but not in pain — the overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled without any barrier felt heavenly. his hard cock, littered with scales, plowed into your soaked cunt until his hips smacked against your ass, his balls swaying against your swollen clit.
“yes.” he groaned, his voice now raspy with his own need. “this is where you belong: spread open for me, taking my cock like the cockslut that you are.” he pulled out slowly, then slammed back in, the squelch of your juices and his cum making a loud, obscene sound.
“fuck, you’re so warm, so wet, so fucking good.”
he set a ferocious pace, his hips jutting into you with the starved intensity of an animal in rut. each thrust hit that spot inside you, making your spine curve into him more and more. and you were kept in that deep arch by his strong arms, your voice reduced to a stream of moans and whines as it got drowned out by the pillows.
“ngh– baby, your pussy is squeezing me so tight.” he grunted, his hand snaking forward to grab a fistful of your hair and yank your head back. “greedy girl, sucking me ah– so hard.”
“tell me you’re mine. tell me this is what you wanted.”
“‘m y’rs.” you gasped, the words tumbling out in stutters as you squeezed around his rugged scales. “gods, yes, fuck me harder, please–”
he released your hair with a satisfied moan and doubled his efforts, his strokes becoming messy and unhinged. he was so deep inside you that you could feel his cock throbbing against your walls, the tip kissing your cervix with every slam. his length seemed to grow inside you, expanding and stretching your sensitive walls in all dimensions.
you were completely affected by ebb day now, your pleasure so strong you could no longer separate where your being ended and his began.
but the night has just begun, and so did rafayel.
you felt it before you saw it: a second pressure, a new sensation against the flesh of your ass. another cock, thicker and more brutal in its proportions, had emerged from the base of his first and sprung upwards, settling directly between the sweaty valley of your cheeks.
it was a monstrous thing, wet with its own pre-cum, rocking against your asshole in tune with his other cock.
“is that– ugh–”
with every slam of his hips into your soaked cunt, this second cock rubbed relentlessly against your tight, untouched asshole. the friction was addicting, a blunt force that glided over the twitching rim of your second hole with every forward push.
you could feel the ridges of it, the scales that dragged across your delicate skin, and it made your eyes roll back from the pleasure.
“you feel that, baby?” he grunted into your ear, his voice a condescending purr. “my other cock, itching to breed that pussy too. you’re so fucking soaked, i am sure it will ngh– slip right in.”
you couldn’t respond. you were beyond speech, your face buried in the sheets, your voice reduced to a high, siren-like whine that filled the room.
the way his second cock humped against your asshole, the way his first cock was still plunging into your cunt — it was a sensory overload that threatened to spill all over. you clenched around him, trying to drag him deeper, and he groaned, leaning over your arched body.
“can’t even fuckin’ answer me.” he snarled, his pace slowing for a moment as he leaned down, lowering his sweaty chest against your back.
his sharp mouth found the juncture of your neck and shoulder, your pulse point, and he opened his jaw wide. his fangs grazed your flesh, a heated, demanding pressure falling over your skin.
he was…
“you want this so badly, don’t you? you want me to claim every hole.”
going to bite. he was going to mark you as his mate.
panic lashed through the fog of your lust. you were not lovers: you had agreed to this arrangement solely to protect his future beloved from the primality of the lemurian heat. so your arm shot up before you could think it over, your forearm wedging itself between his lips and your neck just as his jaws clamped down.
“ah.”
his fangs sink into your flesh with a wet, ripping sound. the pain was sharp and immediate, a burning sensation that made you scream into the pillows. you felt the hot trickle of blood cascade down your arm, and he let out a surprised, muffled groan around your limb.
his cock slid out of you during the chaos, leaving you suddenly empty and weak.
“n–no!” you cried, your voice a shaky mess of pleasure and desperation. “not that! rafayel, we aren’t– we’re not lovers! you can’t mark me like this. you have to save yourself for your chosen one, you know that.”
he froze — he stayed still, his fangs still embedded in your forearm, his breath hot against the wound. then, slowly, he released you. his jaw unclamped, and he licked the blood from his lips with a slow, seductive swipe of his tongue. but his eyes had changed. the lust was still there, but now it was underlaid with something far more dangerous: a cold, rageful possessiveness.
“you dare...” he said, his voice dropping to a level of condescending fury that made you shiver. “you dare tell me who to save myself for? you dare speak of a ‘chosen one’ when you’re the only one who has ever made me feel this?”
before you could respond, he moved with unnatural speed. his hands gripped your hips and with a brutal twist, he flipped you over like you were no more than a rag doll. you landed on your back, the sheets cold and damp against your sweaty skin. he was on top of you in an instant, his legs knocking yours apart as he settled his weight between your thighs.
his first cock pressed against your soaked entrance, and his second one rested heavily against your clit, both of them drenched in bodily fluids.
“you foolish woman.” he snarled, leaning down so his face was inches from yours. his eyes were gleaming blue, his scales catching the light like the facets of a gem. “there is no other chosen one. there is only you. you’re the one i want. you’re the one my body and my soul demands.”
“r–raf?”
“and i will not be denied.”
he thrusted forward, sheathing his bottom cock inside you in one single, devastating move. you were so wet, so inviting; there was no resistance, only a lewd, obscene squelch as your fluids started to froth at the juncture between your bodies.
you whined out a broken approval, and he groaned in triumph above you.
“that’s right.” he confirmed, rolling his hips harder and harder to pick up his previous pace. “your body knows the truth, even if your mouth lies. you’re mine.” he began to pump into you, his strokes sharp and possessive as he, once more, descended closer to your face.
“you can beg all you want for a different fate, but you will never escape this. you will never escape me.”
and with that, he sealed his lips over yours.
your hands clawed at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he pounded you into the mattress. your legs wrapped around his waist, pushing him deeper, traitorously consenting to his declaration even as your mind spun with lust. he leaned forward more and more, trapping you under his massive frame, and he kissed you brutally, tangling his long tongue with your and forcing you to taste your own blood.
“say it out loud.” he demanded against your mouth, his pace never faltering, his mouth carefully traversing lower to your pulse point again. “say you’re mine. say it and i will fully take you, my mate.”
“i’m yours!” you wailed, the words torn from your very soul as his fangs scratched your skin in warning. “i’m yours, rafayel! please, just don’t stop, don’t you dare stop–”
a prideful, predatory grin spread across his features. he slowed his pace as his jaw opened once more, trying to time his movements to offer you the most intense pleasure. pulling out almost all the way, his tip snagging onto your hole, he stuck out his tongue to wet your skin as his hand lowered to his cocks… pressing his second length snug to his other and preparing it for penetration.
“ngh– raf– ah–”
as he plunged his fangs into your neck, finally marking you as his mate by drawing blood, he also rutted both cocks into your hungry cunt. the immense quantities of arousal lubed everything, allowing his two dicks to press deep into your without much difficulty.
and his timing was perfect, getting you to orgasm with a perfect o on your lips as he rocked your whole world.
“that’s right.” he purred, moving his head to nuzzle at the bloody bite on your skin, licking the wound with soft strokes of his tongue. “you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.”
and as he spoke, he picked up his pace once more, the slap of his balls against your skin filling the room, his resolve renewed. you were cushioned beneath him, a trembling mess, a willing partner to desire, and as he watched you fall apart beneath him — your eyes rolling back, your moans a constant chant — he too was pushed over the edge once more.
unlike last time, his thrusts stumbled into a rhythm that was clumsy but deep, as if he refusing to let go of you. unlike last time, you felt a swelling at your entrance, the way his top cock, the one that had been pressing against your clit moments ago, now grew in thickness.
the sensation was overwhelming. your walls were stretched further, and you could feel his cocks throbbing deep inside, ready to spill.
“breed.” he groaned against your neck, lips bloody, voice raspy. “let me fill you. let me breed your sweet cunt.”
and he did.
his top cock began to inflate at the base, the tissue swelling into a something that locked him deep within you. you whimpered in pleasure as the first shiny, pearl-white ovoid passed through his urethra and into your hole —a smooth, rounded glob that stretched you to the fullest before it settled inside you.
then another, and another, and another. each one leaving a trail of warmth as it popped through his cock and deposited itself in deep inside you. his hands stopped flat against your stomach, to keep you from moving away, and he felt the bulge begin to rise.
the eggs were gathering together with his thick cum.
“yes, yes.” he murmured, his tone a mix of wonder and satisfaction, eyes glassy with lust. “so many eggs already. and there’s more for you.”
he kept pumping, each thrust squeezing another round egg into you, and with it came wave upon wave of thick, pearlescent cum that filled every remaining crevice. your tummy bulged more and more, the skin stretching tight until you could feel the weight of his eggs sinking low inside you. you were so full that you couldn’t tell what was cum and what was ovoid; you only knew that he was still pumping, still depositing, still claiming.
“r–rafayel, i w–will ugh– i can’t hold– nngh!”
your protests were swallowed by another orgasm as he rutted his final drops into you, the bottom cock twitching inside you as it added its own thick semen to the swelling pool. your tummy was now a pronounced curve, the skin taut and shiny, and you could feel each individual egg pressing against the walls of your tummy.
“yes.”
finally, he stilled, his body shaking with the last spasms of release. he remained inside you for a long moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged and hot against your sweaty skin. then, with a small whine, he pulled out: first the bottom cock, then the top one, releasing the lock on your pussy. you felt a gush of warm cream follow him, and when you looked down, you saw the mess he had made of you.
your pussy was ruined, swollen, hole gaping as thick, white cum started to drool out in hefty treads, pooling on the sheets beneath you.
he moved down your body, his hands sliding over your blooming skin until they rested on your swollen belly. he pressed gently, and you felt the first egg pop out with an obscene sound. the smooth, pearly ovoid rolled out onto the sheet, shining with your combined juices. then another, and another, each one escaping as he pressed firmer, each one making you whine from overstimulation.
your tummy slowly deflated, but not all the eggs were out yet — you could still feel a few resting high inside, near your cervix.
“shh, i’ve got you.” he said, his voice suddenly soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the brutality from moments ago. he shifted his hand from your belly to your swollen clit, his fingers gliding through the wetness with good intent.
“you’re doing so well, baby. let me help the rest out.”
he began to rub circles around your hyper-sensitive bud, while his other hand pressed firmly on the top part of your pelvis. the overstimulation made you sob out, but his sweet expression (his soft, purple orbs, the blush on his face, the cute smile on his lips) kept you grounded.
“that’s it, sweet girl, let them out. you’re so brave for taking all of that. now just one more– yes, there it is.”
with a particularly deep press of his palm and a swirl of his thumb, the last egg got out with a sultry plop, rolling to join its siblings on the sheet. your body shuddered violently, another spasm of climax racing through you, but he never stopped the gentle ministrations of his hand.
he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your belly, his lips tracing your skin as you orgasm again into his palm.
“such a good girl.” he whispered against your skin, his tone full of adoration and gratitude. “you took everything so perfectly, my partner.” he lifted his head to look into your hazy eyes, and there was nothing but contentment in his gaze. “let’s rest for a bit.”
at last, he removed himself from between your legs, allowing you a moment of respite as he lounged next to you on the bed. cradling your spent form into a delicate side embrace, he guided your head onto his chest, petting your wet hair away from your face.
tags: @yuunileb, @txtworlddom, @xyzsbaobei, @loreleis-world, @demonicangelll, @dreamydaredevil, @glitterykingdomangel, @gardenialily, @weirdothatwrites, @cherrytokkiz, @brailsthesmolgurl, @happyshark2222, @velomira, @darkchococwoissant, @thealunari, @starswillseeus, @ninalove323, @lumichella, @amanehyuga, @txtworlddom, @milumier, @someonestopsoren, @lettushi, @jadeloverxd, @hellothisisnanaaa, @ops-esion, @thealunari, @maplewood-valley, @massivebanananut, @livanavier, @rafayearning4eternity. if you see this and want to be added to the main taglist, please let me know!
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NERD! ZAYNE TEACHING THE GUYS HOW TO MAKE A GIRL CUM USING YOU AS VISUAL AID😝
🔞MDNI🔞
*Yes, this is a fuck you to that bitter anon.
Part 2 here Part 3 here
"They are full of shit" Caleb wiped a stray drop of alcohol from his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at nobody in particular. "The girls on the third floor make up half that stuff for fun."
You were wedged in the middle, squeezed between Caleb and Rafayel on the edge of a mattress that groaned under the collective weight. Every time someone moved, the springs let out a pathetic little squeak. The alcohol was starting to feel like a warm, heavy blanket behind your eyes, blurring the room into soft edges, but it was definitely making you feel a little more brave. Or reckless. Probably both.
You’d know these idiots since freshman orientation. Two years of shared greasy takeout, late night study sessions, and brutal hungover Sundays. That messy stretch of friendship was the only reason you felt comfortable enough to let your filter slip.
"It's not just the third floor," you said, tracing a finger around the rim of your cup. "It's everybody. The nursing majors. The track team. Pretty much every girl I've talked to. They all said the same thing, that you guys look like you belong on a billboard, but fuck like clumsy horny dogs."
"A horny dog? Seriously?" Rafayel looked genuinely wounded. "I am an artist and a very attentive one."
"You think lighting candles counts as attentiveness."
"It contributes."
From across the room, Sylus remained focused on his phone.
"Let them talk," his thumb paused over the screen "The loudest complaints usually come from people who never say what they really want."
You laughed "That's what you're going with?"
Sylus shrugged.
"Fine. Caleb?" he immediately looked suspicious.
"What?"
"That girl from the lacrosse team you fucked last weekend..."
Caleb groaned. "Oh, come on."
"How do you know she actually finished?"
"Because she told me she did."
"And?"
"And she was loooooud."
You stared at him and saw his confidence falter slightly.
"Girls do that so you'll speed up and get it over with"
Caleb opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked toward the window, his jaw shifting. "She... she wrapped her legs around my waist the entire time. That means it was good, right?"
"That means she was trying to get more friction because you weren't hitting the right spots," you said turning your head towards Rafayel "What about you?"
Rafayel straightened. "What about me?"
"When was the last time you actually looked down to see what was happening instead of just listening to the noises she was making?"
Rafayel's face turned a bright pink that extended to the tips of his ears. "I can tell by the rhythm. The atmosphere shifts."
"The atmosphere doesn't make a girl cum, Raf," you laughed, the whiskey bubbling up in your chest.
Across the room Xavier finally lifted his head from the rug, his hair stuck out in every direction.
"I just do it until they tell me to stop."
The room went quiet.
"Xavi, that is not the reassuring answer you think it is."
"Oh." he considered that.
"See?" you said, pointing around the room. "None of you actually know how to make a girl cum, you just assume you did a great job because you're hot, and then leave them to finish the job themselves after you fall asleep."
"That's correct"
The words cut through the conversation.
Zayne didn't look up from his anatomy textbook, he just adjusted his glasses and continued reading for a few more second before lifting his eyes.
Caleb barked out a laugh. "Oh, here we go."
Zayne ignored him.
"Most guys operate on assumptions rather than observation."
"Listen to the expert," Caleb said. "A man whose dating life exists entirely in textbooks."
Zayne's expression didn't change. "I understand the theory better than you"
"Theory?" Caleb repeated.
"Anatomy, Caleb."
"That's a lot of confidence for someone talking in hypotheticals." Sylus teased.
Zayne hesitated "It isn't as complicated as people make it out to be. I can show you."
"Do it." the words left your mouth before you could calculate the weight of them. "Show them."
Caleb sat up straighter. Rafayel looked interested. Xavier was really awake now.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Sylus finally dropped his phone into his lap, his gaze locking onto your face, heavy and unblinking.
Zayne didn't blink either. A dark red flush crept from beneath the collar of his black sweater, staining his throat. He looked at your cup, then at the space between his own knees, his jaw working as he swallowed.
Shit Shit Shit
"We're... we've known each other a long time, this feels like we're crossing a line."
"She asked," Sylus stood, the leather chair groaning beneath him. He crossed the room to slide the deadbolt into place before he leaned against the door and folded his arms. "And the doctor says he has the answers. Let's see a demonstration."
------
The floorboards felt cold under your bare feet. Taking your clothes off wasn't nearly as smooth as moments like this looked in movies. It was awkward, rushed, and far too real. Your jeans caught on your ankles as you kicked them off, your bra strap twisting before you cleared it from your arms.
"Sit here," Zayne whispered. He was now sitting on the edge of the mattress, knees spread wide apart.
You moved into the gap between his thighs. His chest felt warm against your shoulder blades.
Caleb and Rafayel pulled two chairs forward and Xavier stayed on the floor, dragging himself closer until his knees almost touched your ankle.
Before moving anywhere else, Zayne clamped his hands around your waist. His palms felt warm against your skin, holding you steady between his thighs.
"The skin requires warming first, If you touch her when she's cold, the muscles contract. It closes the blood vessels."
His hands slid higher, the friction of his palms catching against your ribcage. He paused when he reached your breasts, using his fingers to lift and shape them without any sudden squeezing. He kept his touch frustratingly light, his thumbs sweeping in slow arcs across the base before flicking directly over the tight tips.
A gasp caught in your throat, slipping out as a sharp breath. You dug your fingers into his knees, squeezing just to keep from writhing away from his hands.
"Are those goosebumps?" Xavier asked from below before reaching out, his hand hovering an inch from your left knee before he dropped it back to the floor.
"Yes, but it's an involuntary reaction," Zayne leaned his head forward, his hair brushing against your earlobe. "It doesn't mean she's cold."
Caleb cleared his throat, looking down at his hands, then back at you.
The sudden loss of Zayne's touch on your breasts made you shiver, his hands already traveling down your abdomen to grip your inner thighs. He parted your legs wide, exposing you to the heavy stares of the room. Under the direct glow of the desk lamp, the skin of your inner thighs visibly trembled.
His knuckles dragged over your outer lips and he stalled there, his jaw tightening as he drew his hand back and stared down at the slight sheen—not nearly enough.
"She’s nervous and that's completely normal. Any friction here would just cause irritation."
"So you're stuck," Rafayel said. He was leaning so far forward his chest rested against his knees, his eyes wide and tracking every movement of Zayne’s hand.
"No."
Zayne brought his hand up to your face and pressed his middle and index finger against your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open. The scent of paper vanished under the wet heat of your mouth. "Wet them."
You took his fingers in, tongue curling around them. Zayne watched your lips close around his knuckles, his chest expanding against your back, before he pulled them out with a wet pop, a thin thread of saliva breaking between his hand and your mouth.
"You only need to do this once to get things moving," Zayne explained guiding his wet fingers back down between your thighs. "If a man needs to re wet his fingers or use lube over and over, it means he’s doing something wrong."
He pressed his slick fingers directly against your clit, rubbing an agonizingly perfect circle.
A sharp cry broke from your lips and he rested the heel of his hand firmly against your pelvic bone, using that grounding weight to steady his touch while his index and middle fingers began a slow, testing exploration of the skin surrounding the swollen bud. He moved in light crescent shapes, mapping the outer edges first without touching the center directly.
Your hips moved, trying to force his hand to hit your favorite spots, but Zayne held your waist with his other hand, keeping you still.
"Not yet," his voice was losing its stiffness "Look at how she reacts when I go near it. She's so sensitive right here. Such a good girl for letting you all see." The bastard knew about your praise kink. Of course he knew.
He changed the strokes to a firm downward motion along the sides before gathering the slick that was beginning to coat his knuckles and smoothing it back up. He watched your skin change color under his fingers, his thumb finally making direct contact with your clit, pressing down and tracing a tight, clockwise circle.
Your thighs twitched, knees trying to clamp shut around his arm.
"Don't hide," his thumb switched direction, drawing slow figure eight that dragged across the very top of the bud before dipping into the soft groove underneath. "Let them watch how wet you get when someone actually takes their time with you. You look so pretty when you're dripping like this."
Across from you, Caleb's hands were gripping his own knees so hard the fabric of his sweatpants strained. His eyes were wide and fixed entirely on the gloss of your skin where Zayne’s thumb was slicking the fluid back and forth, finding the exact weight that made your head fall back against his shoulder "She’s... she’s shaking..." his voice sounded rough and uneven.
Rafayel moved to the edge of his seat, his fingers tangling in the hem of his shirt, his face had gone from pink to tomato red "And the color is different..."
"Because the blood is pooling exactly where it’s supposed to," Zayne told them increasing the pressure just a fraction until you let out a broken whimper. "If you change the rhythm too fast, you lose the progress, so find the pattern she responds to, and you stay there."
From the floor, Xavier stared at the small twitches of your hole "She’s pulling in, like she wants to wrap around something."
Sylus stepped away from the door, his hands were out of his pockets now, his knuckles white as he watched Zayne’s fingers spread your folds apart, exposing the wet, pink interior completely "She's begging for it."
Zayne looked up at the four men watching.
"The manual rhythm is only the baseline, the tissue is highly receptive to temperature and texture. Anything you can execute with your hands, you can replicate, and enhance, with your mouth.
He brought his index finger directly to the very tip of your swollen clit, pressing with small, localized prods.
"If you use the tip of your tongue like this," Zayne explained, his finger mimicking the flicking motion against the sensitive bud, making your hips jump, "you target the isolated nerve clusters. It's high intensity and it forces the blood to the surface faster."
He then slid his index and middle fingers tightly together, flattening them against each other to create a wider, smoother surface. He pressed the flat length of both fingers firmly against your entire center, dragging them in a long upward stroke from your entrance all the way up to your clit.
"But when she gets overwhelmed, you switch," Zayne said as he repeated the stroke "You have to use the whole flat of your tongue like this. It dampens the sharp sting of the sensitivity while keeping the heat building. You alternate based on how much she's twitching."
He used his other hand to gently pull your lips apart "Look at the opening," Zayne's breath felt soooo hot against your neck. "When the nerves are active, the tissue swells. It opens on its own."
Behind you, something thick pressed firmly into the cleft of your ass. Zayne was completely hard. His glasses had slid down his nose, but he didn't take his hands away to fix them.
"Zaynie..." you moaned, your head falling back against his shoulder again. The sight of the guys watching you was winding the coil in your belly tighter and tighter.
"Tell them," Zayne ordered, his fingers digging harder into the top of your clit. "Tell them what it feels like."
"It's... it's so good," you sobbed out "I... Zayne, I need...fuck...."
Sylus moved closer.
"The internal contractions," Zayne told them, his words breaking as his thumb worked in a fast circle. "They will milk whatever is inside. Just one finger in. Now. Feel it."
"Now?" Rafayel stammered, his hand shaking as he reached out.
"Now!" you ripped the word straight from your chest,
They moved together, a crowded rush of limbs. Four fingers,all pushed into your wet pussy at once.
Your muscles clamped down in spasms. Caleb let out a low curse, his head dropping against your thigh as you squeezed his finger. "Fucking hell... tight little pussy."
"Keep your fingers still," Zayne's thumb was still holding pressure against your twitching clit while he kept your hips steady against his own shaking thighs. "Feel the rhythm. That's her release."
Rafayel didn't speak, his eyes were fixed on his finger buried inside you.
The silence returned slowly, punctuated only by the sound of you trying to catch your breath. One by one, the fingers withdrew, leaving your cunt open and drooling. You collapsed back into Zayne, your muscles humming with the aftershocks.
Four men stood around the bed, looking down at their wet hands. Zayne was breathing hard against your neck, one hand shaking visibly as he pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.
He cleared his throat, his voice cracking slightly "Are there... any other questions?"
Xavier raised his hand slowly to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste the wetness on his knuckle, his eyes completely dark as he stared at your open thighs.
"Yeah," he said "Can you teach us how to make her squirt?"
rating: explicit/nsfw
category: f/m, caleb/reader, reader-insert
tags: childhood friends to lovers, pseudocest, mutual pining, domesticity, playfight, sexual tension, homecoming, suppressed!caleb, yearning!caleb, submissive top!caleb, insecure!caleb, forced proximity, forbidden/risky, “be quiet, granny will hear us”, making out, dryhumping, p in v, mirror sex, backshots, leg hooking, aftercare, i think that's it?
wordcount: 15.9k
PREVIEW : “wait, what the hell?!” you gasped, your hands flying up in a knee-jerk reaction to push him back, but caleb's hands immediately shot forward to pin you back down against the couch. “see?” caleb murmured, leaning down closer, his hot breath fanning across your cheeks, smelling faintly of the mint gum he'd been chewing. “you couldn't even move before i did this. you can't even defend yourself, you silly girl. that means you still need me to protect you.”
SYNOPSIS : what was supposed to be a casual homecoming quickly devolves into a suffocating game of unspoken jealousy and long-awaited confessions where every shared glance and tight space threatens to collapse the boundaries of your childhood friendship. trapped between the ticking clock of his limited sixty-day leave and the terrifyingly possessive reality of how much he’s missed you, will the tension eventually snap?
caleb is coming back this summer.
the heat of early june in the province always carried a specific kind of weight, heavy with the scent of sun-baked asphalt, dry grass, and the faint rot of fallen mangoes in the backyard. it was summer, finally! the kind of summer that felt less like a break and more like a threshold. you had just wrapped up your sophomore year at the state university down the road, a year spent navigating crowded lecture halls, cheap iced coffees, and a revolving door of new faces that you tried very hard to care about.
for the first time in your life ever since, you and caleb hadn't shared a daily routine.
after eighteen years of being so aggressively attached at the hip that your shadows practically bled together, the last four years had seen you both drifted into your own separate worlds. it was a strange, quiet realization: you both had lives of your own now.
caleb had packed his bags for that prestigious aerospace academy up north, his childhood fascination with the sky hardening into a fierce passion for flying. you, on the other hand, had stayed behind anchored to the familiar soil of your hometown just to float between random orgs, shifting friend groups, and the vague pursuit of figuring out who you were when you weren't “caleb and his girl.”
and today, he was coming home....
the question had been humming under your skin all morning, rhythmic and annoying like a cicada’s buzz. did caleb change? would he look different? act different?
the last time you saw him in the flesh, right before his departure, he had already begun to outgrow the lanky, boyish frame you could map with your eyes closed. his shoulders had broadened, his jawline cutting a sharper silhouette against the terminal lights. he had looked less like the boy who used to help you steal guavas from the neighbor's tree and more like a stranger you'd cross the street to look twice at.
”make sure you tell him to eat properly while he's here,” granny had mumbled earlier this morning, her voice thick with sleep as she shuffled around the kitchen, adjusting the mesh food cover over a plate of fried rice. “that boy always forgets to look after himself when he's excited.”
you had laughed, buzzing with a restless, frantic energy, nodding quickly as you practically flew out the screen door. you didn't even bother putting on real shoes—just slipped your feet into a pair of worn-out rubber slippers, the soles thin enough that you could feel the morning grit of the driveway beneath your arches.
gideon’s car was already idling by the gate, the exhaust coughing a pale plume of smoke into the crisp morning air. gideon, caleb's friend and the closest thing you both had to another brother, had come back from the city a few days earlier because of some vague corporate endeavor he refused to elaborate on. his early return was a stroke of luck; it meant you didn't have to brave the crowded public transportation to get to the drop-off terminal.
“look who finally crawled out of bed,” gideon teased as you yanked the backdoor open and threw yourself into the backseat. the leather was cool against the backs of your thighs, a sharp contrast to the mounting humidity outside.
“i've been up since five, actually,” you shot back, leaning forward so your chin was practically resting on the gap between the two front seats. “go, go, go. we're going to be late, gideon!”
“we have forty minutes, calm down,” gideon chuckled, throwing the car into reverse with practiced ease. his hand spun the steering wheel effortlessly as he backed out onto the main road.
the moment the car straightened out, you immediately started. you couldn't help it. the questions poured out of you in a breathless stream, all of them centered around the one person who hadn't been here. because gideon and caleb were in the same university for college, gideon was your only real window into caleb’s new life.
“is he still doing those crazy flight simulator hours? did he actually pass his survival training or did he cry? does he still sleep with three pillows? is he... does he look different, gideon? like, really different?”
gideon navigated the familiar potholes of the provincial highway, answering each query with a patient nod of his head. he was used to this. he had been the buffer between you and caleb ever since.
“he's fine. still a nerd about planes,” gideon said, glancing at you through the rearview mirror with a knowing smirk. “he passed the survival drills with top marks, obviously. you know how he is. he doesn't cry over dirt. and yeah, he's bigger. the academy makes them do a lot of physical training. he looks like a proper pilot now.”
you listened to every word, your head tilting slightly, your eyes fixed on the back of gideon's head. you were listening so attentively it almost hurt, your ears straining for something specific. a name, maybe. a habit. a detail that sounded wrong, or a hint of a girl, or a sign that he had completely outgrown the small-town girl who used to share his umbrella. you were waiting for a phrase that would confirm your deepest, unvoiced fear: that he had left you behind in the dust of the province.
but that piece of information didn't arrive. gideon just kept talking about credit hours, physical exams, and flight logistics.
“anyway,” gideon clears his throat, switching gears as he turned onto the long stretch of road leading to the junction. “enough about the golden boy. how's state uni treating you? your granny said you joined some theater production crew last month. you making friends?”
the spark in your chest caught a sudden, damp chill. your posture slumped just a fraction, the manic energy leaving your shoulders as quickly as it had arrived. the topic was no longer caleb.
“oh. yeah. it's fine,” you murmured, your voice dropping an octave. “the theater stuff was just for a midterm project. it's over now. and friends... yeah, they're okay. we go to the diner near the campus sometimes.” it sounded dull. it sounded incredibly small compared to aerospace academies and survival training and flying through clouds.
sensing your sudden shift in mood but choosing not to press it, gideon just hummed, turning up the radio slightly.
you leaned back against the seat, suddenly feeling the distance between your body and the front of the car. with a slow movement, you pressed the button on the door panel, letting the window roll down all the way.
you were going to see him in less than fifteen minutes. and for the first time in your life, you were terrified of what his smile might look like now.
with a restless groan, you shifted your weight, sliding down the leather until you were lying flat across the length of the backseat. you lifted your legs, balancing your heels against the rim of the lowered window frame, letting the rushing wind blow right over your bare toes. the bright summer sunlight hit your face in a sudden wash, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut as the shadows of roadside acacia trees flickered across your eyelids like a film strip.
gideon glanced back through the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. “what exactly is the strategy here? are we airing out your feet, or are you trying to slide out of the car entirely?”
“shh,” you muttered, not opening your eyes, just waving a hand dismissively in his general direction. “don't ruin the vibe, gideon. i'm getting into character. when we get there, i'm going to pretend to be asleep.”
“and why, pray tell, are we faking a coma?”
“because,” you mumbled, your voice dropping into a stubborn drone. “he's been gone for four years acting all professional and pilot-like. i'm not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me standing at the curb like an eager puppy. if i'm asleep, he has to wait for me to wake up.”
gideon let out an amused snort but didn't argue further, slowing the vehicle down as he navigated the chaotic entrance of the terminal. the air became a noisy symphony of sputtering engines, the loud barking of barkers calling out destinations, and the heavy hiss of bus brakes.
then, the car came to a full stop. the engine remained idling, its low vibration humming right through your spine as you lay flat on the seat.
you heard the tinny ring of gideon’s phone bridging the gap over the dashboard, followed by the click of the answer button. gideon didn't even put it to his ear; he just left it on speaker, the sound cutting through the air-conditioned cabin.
“yeah? where are you? i'm near the main exit, by the yellow bakery,”
”oop, i see the car,” a voice replied.
that was caleb!
your breath hitched, catching sharply in your throat. it was him. it was caleb. even through the cheap, compressed audio of a phone speaker, there was no mistaking that specific cadence—that easy, slightly raspy, slow-rolling tone that always sounded like he was hiding a joke behind his teeth. it was exactly the same.
“alright, hurry up. the traffic enforcer is already looking at me sideways,” gideon said, hanging up.
panic, sudden and entirely irrational, flared up under your ribs. you scrambled to pull your legs down from the window, tucking your knees slightly toward your chest, and threw your right arm over your eyes, effectively blocking out the blinding glare of the sun and the view of the front seats. you squeezed your eyelids shut until you saw spots, forcing your breathing to slow down.
just act natural. you're asleep. you've been sleeping the whole ride.
the crunch of boots on gravel outside the car door was your only warning. and then, the front passenger door clicked and swung open. “hey!”
your heart nearly leaped right out of your chest. the sheer force of it hammered against your ribs so violently you were terrified he would actually hear it over the sound of everything else. you closed your eyes even tighter, your arm pressing down hard against your brow line.
“man, you look like you survived a war,” gideon’s voice boomed, followed by the rustle of clothing as the two of them exchanged a brief half-hug across the console.
“more like two years of institutionalized sleep deprivation,” caleb replied, his voice much louder now, much closer, vibrating from the seat right in front of your head. the car door slammed shut with a heavy thud, sealing the three of you inside the quiet space.
there was a brief rustle of a duffel bag being shoved into the footwell, and then a sudden pause. you could feel the exact moment his attention shifted.
”is... she dead?” caleb asked, his tone dropping into that familiar, amused lilt.
“passed out about ten minutes ago,” gideon lied without a single hitch in his voice. god, you owed him a premium coffee for this. “she was buzzing around the house since five in the morning, then collapsed the second we hit the highway.”
a loaded silence descended upon the car as gideon shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb. you lay frozen, every muscle in your body stiff with the effort of remaining limp. you could feel caleb’s weight shifting in the front seat, the leather creaking slightly as he turned his upper body around to look back at you.
even with your arm covering your face, you could feel the weight of his stare burning through the fabric of your sleeve.
then, a low huff of a laugh escaped him.
“silly girl,” caleb murmured, the word dripping with an irritatingly affectionate playfulness. “still a sleepyhead. some things really don't change, do they?”
gideon steered the car back onto the main road, the smooth roll of the tires replacing the chaotic noise of the terminal. “i don't know about that. she’s grown up quite a bit while you were gone, caleb. she’s not the little girl who used to cry when you stole her slippers anymore. she's at state uni now. got her own thing going on.”
there was another pause, a tiny stretch of time where the only sound was the hum of the engine.
“yeah,” caleb said, his voice shifting into a tone that was harder to read, more contemplative. “i can see that. she looks different.”
“don't let the height fool you, though,” gideon chuckled, glancing at the rearview mirror. “she’s still a menace. but yeah, you probably can't carry her around with one arm like you used to.”
“please, i can absolutely still carry her with one arm.” a fleshy slap echoed through the front seat—the sound of caleb smacking his own bicep or forearm or whatever to prove a point. “these muscles aren't just for show, gid. i could lift her and her bags without breaking a sweat.”
god, the urge to open your eyes was so overwhelming it was almost a physical ache in your chest. you wanted to throw your arm off your face, look at him, and tell him to shut his stupid mouth just like old times. you wanted to see exactly how broad his shoulders had gotten, wanted to see if his hair was still cut short and neat, wanted to see if that annoying, arrogant little smirk was plastered across his face. but the weight of your own realization—the sudden consciousness of him not just as caleb, but as a man who could effortlessly lift you—kept you completely pinned to the leather.
“whatever you say, pilot boy.” gideon laughed, shaking his head as he accelerated down the open road.
the comfortable rhythm of their conversation was broken by the sharp click of gideon’s turn signal. the car slowed down, veering off the main highway and pulling up.
“alright, cay, this is me,” gideon unbuckles his seatbelt with a crisp click. “i need to drop by this studio for that project archive i told you about. you take the wheel from here. just park the car back at granny's house when you guys get back.”
“yeah, sure. no problem,”
wait, what?
gideon was leaving?
panic flared up again as you stayed perfectly still, listening intently to the rustle of clothes, the sound of gideon opening the passenger door, and the heavy thud of his boots hitting the gravel outside. there was a brief exchange of instructions—gideon reminding caleb about a loose wire near the stereo dashboard—and then the driver’s side door opened. the car dipped slightly under a new weight as caleb slid effortlessly into the driver's seat.
the door slammed shut. the heavy, reassuring presence of gideon was gone, replaced entirely by caleb’s proximity.
he adjusted the seat, sliding it back a few inches to accommodate his longer legs. then, the car smoothly pulled back onto the road. and god, the silence that followed was deafening. without gideon’s easygoing banter filling the cabin, the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the rush of the wind through your open window.
should you open your eyes now? if you wake up now, it'll look natural. just a casual yawn, and—
a subtle tug pulled at the crown of your head.
it wasn't painful. it was incredibly light. you felt a hand reaching over the center console, two fingers winding carefully around a single stray strand of your hair, giving it a teasing little pull.
your eyes flew open.
through the gap between the front seats, you finally saw him—caleb driving effortlessly with his right hand on the steering wheel, his left hand extended backward over the armrest with his thumb and index finger still lightly holding the end of your hair. he didn't even look back at you; his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.
but his eyes flicked upward, locking onto yours through the rearview mirror.
the corners of his eyes crinkled instantly, breaking into that utterly familiar expression. that lazy, arrogant, beautiful smile spread across his lips.
“got a good sleep, pips? your gege's back now.”
the nickname—the one he used to demand you call him when you were kids just to annoy you—should have earned him an immediate eye-roll or a sharp kick to the back of his seat. but you couldn't even bring yourself to reply. your tongue felt thick, glued to the roof of your mouth.
you just stared, agape, taking him in for the first time in four whole years.
he looked like a man.
caleb's eyes flicked up to the mirror again, catching the exact moment your gaze drifted from his face down to his shoulders, and then back up. your wide-eyed, breathless silence was loud. too loud.
for a split second, the easy smirk on caleb’s face faltered. his prominent adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, a sudden patch of color rising along his neck. he cleared his throat, a slightly tense sound, and quickly looked back at the road, his fingers letting go of your hair as he pulled his hand back to the steering wheel.
“what's with the face?” he asked, trying hard to force that casual lilt back into his tone. “you look like you've seen a ghost.”
you quickly sat up, pulling your legs inward and smoothing down your shirt, desperately trying to find your footing. “you look different, that's all. the academy must be starving you if you've gone all that just to survive.”
“starving? please. they feed us like racehorses,” caleb scoffed, though the response felt a little rehearsed, a little too quick as he kept his eyes glued strictly on the asphalt ahead. “but thanks for noticing. glad to know my hard work isn't lost on a provincial girl like you.”
you leaned your cheek against your hand, looking out the side window to hide the heat rushing into your own face.
somehow, the conversation didn't go the way you had scripted it in your head over the last four years. you hadn't greeted each other like two people who had spent their entire lives attached at the hip, starved for each other's presence. there were no desperate questions, no breathy laughter, no clumsy, overwhelming hugs that left you smelling like his cologne.
instead, you were simply staring out the side window, watching the green expanse of the provincial rice fields blur into a smear of dusty emerald, and then he was simply driving.
“so, state u,” caleb started, “gran says you're keeping busy. how's the actual college life treating you?”
“it's fine,” you replied, your voice matching his even tone. you kept your eyes fixed on a passing billboard outside. “it's a lot of reading, but my blockmates are nice. i usually hang out with maya and javi after our afternoon lectures. we found this cheap diner near the campus that serves really good sizzling meat.”
“maya and javi,” caleb repeated, testing the names on his tongue as if trying to fit them into the map of your life. he nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the road. “that's good. it's good that you found your crowd.”
“mm. javi's in the theater crew too, so we usually walk home together when rehearsals run late.” you added, offering the detail up like a shield.
why did it end up like this? why did the air between you feel so thick, so cautious, as if a single wrong word would shatter a boundary neither of you had openly acknowledged yet?
“what about you?” you asked, trying to sound completely nonchalant, keeping your gaze trained on the side mirror. “must be nice up at the academy. you probably have a whole new circle of pilot friends.”
“yeah. the guys in my barracks are solid. we complain about the flight instructors together. it keeps us sane.”
and then, that's where it happened.
“any... girls?” the word slipped out of your mouth a little too smoothly, a little too practiced. “i mean, the uniform probably does half the work for you up there.”
the car went starkly silent.
caleb didn't answer right away. he shifted his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening just a fraction before he relaxed them. it took a long drawn-out pause for him to reply.
finally, a gentle smile spread across his face—but it wasn't his usual mischievous smirk.
“yeah,” caleb said quietly, his eyes softening as he looked out at the highway ahead. “actually, there is. i've got a pretty massive crush on someone from the nursing college nearby. i'm planning on courting her this coming semester.”
oh. okay.
you didn't say anything for a moment, letting the sound of his confession hang in the air between you like heavy smoke.
”that's nice. good luck with that.”
wanting nothing more than to disappear into the upholstery, you leaned further back against the leather of the seat. and you lifted your legs again, resting your ankles on the open window frame just like you had earlier. you stared straight into the blinding, white-hot summer sunlight, letting the glare sting your eyes until they watered, using the heat as an excuse for the burning sensation behind your eyelids.
college really is horrible. it really does change everything and everyone, doesn't it? it takes the boy who used to swear he'd never care about anyone more than you, sends him away for four years, and brings back a stranger who belongs to someone else.
you watched the provincial scenery go into a blurring motion as caleb pressed down on the accelerator, speed being his only response to the quiet.
suddenly, caleb cleared his throat, a nervous cough breaking the quiet. “what about you, pips? you mentioned that javi guy. do you... have a boyfriend now?”
you blinked, your eyes still stinging from the sunlight. you didn't even have to think about it. “no.”
within minutes, caleb steered the car smoothly up the gravel driveway of granny's home, pulling up right under the shade of the large mango tree. the engine died with a final, shuddering purr, leaving only the loud clicking of the cicadas in the backyard to fill the space.
you kept your ankles resting on the window frame, your eyes closed against the light.
then, you heard the rustle of caleb's heavy duffel bag being pulled from the footwell, and the solid thud of his boots hitting the gravel. but instead of walking straight to the house, the sound of his footsteps looped around to your side of the car.
a shadow suddenly fell over your face, blocking out the harsh heat of the sun.
you opened your eyes a fraction, only to see that caleb was leaning his arms against the window frame, his broad shoulders completely framing the opening. he looked down at you, a golden-boy smile playing on his lips.
“we're here, sleepyhead,” his voice still carried that warmth that used to make you feel so safe, but now it just felt like salt on an open wound. “aren't you coming out? granny’s probably already waiting at the door.”
you quickly averted your gaze, looking past his shoulder at the porch of the house, avoiding his eyes entirely.
“you go ahead.”
—
the heavy heat of mid-afternoon had dissolved by the time your eyes fluttered open, replaced by the long-shadowed stillness of late gold.
you groaned, a sharp ache radiating through your lower back and neck from the impossibly cramped angle you’d been knotted into across the backseat. four hours. you had actually managed to pass out for four hours in the belly of a dead car.
you pushed the heavy car door open, your thin slippers slapping against the gravel as you stepped out into the humid yard. stretching your arms over your head until your joints popped, you shook out your numb legs, half-hopping, half-limping your way up the porch steps and pulling the screen door open with a lazy rattle.
the house was strangely quiet.
“granny?” you called out, your voice still thick and raspy from sleep. no answer. you tilted your head, wandering past the dark living room where the old wooden rocking chair sat still, and followed a faint metallic clinking toward the kitchen.
when you stepped over the threshold, the words caught squarely in your throat.
caleb, completely shirtless, bent over the kitchen sink with his back turned to you. a chaotic battlefield of rusty wrenches, tattered rags, and rolls of teflon tape were scattered all over the tiled countertop beside him. he was clearly deep-cleaning the drain and trying to muscle a stubborn leaking pipe back into place, his skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat that caught the amber sunset filtering through the small window.
from this angle, the reality of how much he had changed hit you like a physical blow. but it was when he leaned further down into the cabinet under the sink that your eyes inevitably landed on the silver chain hanging from his neck, the metal dogtag swinging loosely against his collarbone.
you swallowed hard, forcing your gaze upward, and cleared your throat loudly to break the spell. “where's granny?”
the sudden interruption made caleb flinch violently, his entire torso jerking upward in surprise as the back of his head collided with the edge of the upper cabinet.
“ouch!”
”clumsy idiot.” you muttered.
caleb slowly turned around, still wincing, and looked up at you from his crouched position. you caught the distinct, deliberate way his gaze traveled down your frame—taking in your post-nap hair, your dumb shirt, and your bare legs—before flicking back up to settle on your face. the intensity of it lasted only a fraction of a second before his easy golden-boy mask slid right back into place.
“granny went down the road,” he casually leaned his hip against the counter, completely unbothered by his lack of a shirt. “visited mrs. alvarez or someone. said she’d be back before dinner.”
trying to appear completely casual, you walked past him, keeping a careful radius of distance between your shoulder and his bare chest, and opened the refrigerator door. the cool air hit your face as you grabbed the heavy glass pitcher of water.
“look who finally decided to join the land of the living,” caleb watched you pull a glass from the cupboard. “four hours, pipsqueak? i was about to check if you still had a pulse. you sleep like a log.”
you poured the water, keeping your back to him as you scoffed. “i had to make up for the four years of peace and quiet i'm about to lose now that you're back to annoy me.”
behind you, caleb let out a bright, boyish laugh—the kind of chesty sound that filled the entire room and made him look exactly like the sixteen-year-old boy you grew up with.
“yeah, yeah, keep talking...” chuckling, he wipes his sweaty brow with the back of his forearm. he leaned closer to the table, his eyes shining with a sudden eager spark. “hey, are you free tomorrow? they opened that new amusement park by the bypass road while i was gone. i was thinking we could go. just the two of us, like old times.”
you raised the glass to your lips, using the movement to buy yourself time as his words settled heavily in your stomach. like old times. but it wouldn't be like old times. not with him looking like this, and certainly not with a nursing student waiting for him up north.
you set the glass down on the counter with a soft click, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before looking at him. “can't tomorrow. i already have somewhere to go with a friend.”
“a friend?” his brow furrowed, a deep line cutting between his eyes as he stared at you. “since when did you choose a friend over me?”
the confusion on his face was almost comical, because it was a look you knew intimately—the look caleb gave whenever the universe didn't bend to his precise specifications. it was intensely ironic, a hypocritical double standard that made you want to scream. he could go off to the city, rebuild his entire life, and find a nursing student to court, but the second you had a life outside of this gravel driveway, the rules suddenly changed?
“just a friend from state u.” you said airily, turning on your heel and walking out of the kitchen. “you're not the only one who got a change of scenery, caleb. i’m all grown up now. i actually have a life and people outside of this house.”
you hear the heavy, silent thud of his bare feet following you, the sheer mass of him trailing you into the small living room like a shadow you couldn't shake. you threw yourself onto the worn-out fabric of the sofa, grabbing the dusty remote control to click the television on.
instead of sitting down on the opposite armchair, caleb came to a halt right at the edge of the sofa, looming over you. he crossed his arms over his bare chest, his shadow completely blocking out the remaining amber light of the sunlight.
“i'm serious,” he muttered, carrying that infuriatingly paternal tone he used whenever he wanted to control a situation. “don't go hanging out with people alone just that easily. you're too trusting. the city might be a mess, but the town isn't exactly a sanctuary either. shit is unpredictable, and people have motives.”
you let out an incredulous laugh, snapping your head up to look at him.
“you should know that if you’re a grown up as you claim to be.“ caleb added.
you raised a single eyebrow, your lips curling into a mocking smile. “what are you implying, then? that you still need to protect me? that i can't handle a simple afternoon coffee without my big, strong gege holding my hand?”
caleb’s eyes narrowed, a dark glint flickering in his irises. “should i not? just because we were apart for a couple of years doesn't mean you get to be careless. you've always been too stubborn for your own good.”
“yeah, well, you should not.” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you turned your attention back to the television screen, where a loud game show was playing to an empty audience. “i'm [age] years old, caleb. i am quite literally not a kid anymore. so stop acting like a hypocrite when you're the one who—”
“let’s test that theory.”
before the breath could even leave your lungs, the cushion beside you sank violently. caleb lunged forward with a terrifying fluidity that you had never seen from him before. your brain didn't even have time to process the movement before the heavy, solid weight of his knees dug brutally into the foam of the sofa, effectively pinning the fabric down on either side of your hips.
in a fraction of a second, you were completely trapped. he had closed the distance so aggressively that you were locked between his thighs, his massive shirtless chest looming inches from your face.
“wait—what the hell!” you gasped, your hands flying up in a knee-jerk reaction to push him back, but caleb's hands shot forward, his fingers wrapping around your wrists with an unyielding grip. he didn't squeeze enough to hurt, but the absolute finality of his hold made it clear you weren't going anywhere. a slow incredibly wicked smirk spread across his lips then.
“see?” caleb murmured, leaning down just an inch closer, his hot breath fanning across your cheeks, smelling faintly of the mint gum he'd been chewing. “you couldn't even move before i did this. you can't even defend yourself, you silly girl. that means you still need me to protect you.”
up close, the heat radiating off his bare skin was intoxicating, a musky warmth that seemed to fill your entire throat. you could see the tiny pulse point fluttering at the base of his neck, right above where his silver dogtags hung, dangling loosely and brushing against your collarbone.
“you're a cheater,” you hissed. “this is a cheap shot!”
“it's a reality check,” his grip on your wrists tightened just a fraction, a wordless challenge. “tell you what. if you manage to dislodge me—if you can actually get out from under me right now—then i'll let myself believe that you aren't a kid anymore. i'll let you go on your little date tomorrow without a single word.”
“it's not a date!” you yelled, the denial tearing out of you with a sudden heat. alright, if a game of strength was what he wanted to play to prove his stupid, masculine dominance, you were going to give it to him. you knew caleb. you knew how he moved, or at least, you thought you did.
”and fine. if that's what you want, you're going to get it.”
with a swift movement, you bucked your hips upward, twisting your wrists sharply against the grain of his thumbs—a self-defense trick he had ironically taught you himself when you were fifteen. the sudden, biting leverage worked; caleb's grip slipped, his hands sliding off your skin with a faint gasp of surprise.
“ha!” you celebrated, a triumphant grin breaking across your face as you immediately reached up, your palms slamming against his broad bare shoulders to shove him off the couch.
but you had vastly underestimated your gege.
before your arms could fully extend to deliver the push, caleb utilized your own momentum against you. leaning his entire weight forward, his chest slammed into yours, knocking the wind right out of your lungs as he drove your back deep into the cushions. in the same breath, his hands caught your forearms mid-air, pinning them flat against the back of the sofa.
a loud, frustrated groan escaped your throat as your knuckles hit the fabric.
“you're cheating!” you wheezed, your legs twisting beneath his thighs, trying to find some purchase, some leverage to kick him off, but his lower body was like an anchor. “caleb, let go! in a game like this, you obviously have the advantage, you giant idiot!”
“i told you,” caleb chuckled, his chest vibrating directly against yours. the sensation of his hard pectoral muscles pressing into your softness was a sudden jolt that made your entire body go completely rigid. “those flight drills aren't just for show. you're slow, pips. you're losing your touch.”
“i am not slow!” you argued as you thrashed beneath him. you tried to wrench your left arm free, but caleb simply slid his fingers down to lace tightly through yours, pinning your hand flat against the sofa pillow.
every time you writhed to escape him, your bodies rubbed together in a way that made your skin feel like it was on fire. the friction of his denim jeans against your bare legs, the heavy slide of his chest against yours, the tight, hot grip of his fingers tangled in yours—it was completely overwhelming. caleb had stopped laughing. his breath was coming in shorter, heavier gasps now, his chest rising and falling in a ragged rhythm that mirrored your own frantic respiration.
“let... me... go,” you panted, but he stayed hovering over you, his broad shoulders completely blocking out the rest of the living room, effectively reducing your entire universe to just him. his gaze dragged slowly down from your eyes, lingering on your parted lips, before rising back up to look into your pupils with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with a childhood bond.
“make me.”
his hips shifted just a fraction, a subtle pressure against yours that made your heart completely halt in your chest. “tell me you don't need me anymore. say it like you mean it, and maybe i'll think about letting you up.”
if you couldn't get him off of you with pure physical force, then you might as well use your words. you needed a distraction, something so inherently mundane and unsexy.
you swallowed hard.
“caleb,” you muttered, your voice hesitant. “i... i need to pee.”
caleb blinked.
for a second, he just stared at you, his chest still rising and falling raggedly against yours. then, slowly, he began to relax the iron grip on your wrists, gently pushing his torso back to give you some breathing room.
is it working? a tiny sigh of relief bubbled in your chest. that worked, didn't it?
“hold it in.”
your eyes widened instantly. the sigh of relief died in your throat. what the fuck?!
you gasped inaudibly, your body going completely rigid all over again. instead of getting off the couch like a normal person, caleb simply shifted his weight above you. he let go of your hands entirely, but he just slid his knees slightly to the side, repositioning himself so he was hovering over you at a slight angle.
”do you remember when we were younger? whenever you felt like peeing, what did i make you do?”
your face burned a furious, hot crimson. you knew exactly what he was talking about. back when you were a pre-teen, you had a lot of difficulty with that—a stubborn, painful urinary retention issue that made you miserable during long car rides or summer afternoons. caleb, being the overprotective problem-solving idiot he was, had researched it in some random medical forum and forced a habit on you: he made you press firmly on your lower abdomen, right above the bladder, hold it tightly for ten seconds to stimulate the muscles, and then rush to the bathroom to let it out. it always worked.
but that was when you were kids.
doing that right now, with a shirtless muscular caleb hovering right between your thighs, felt entirely indecent. the innocent childhood routine had suddenly been warped into something thick with a strange intimacy...
“what the fuck?” you cussed under your breath, your voice shaking as you glared at him. “let me up, caleb. i'm serious.”
caleb didn't react to the swearing. his expression remained entirely unbothered, his jaw ticking slightly as he stared down at your flushed face. he was completely serious.
“hold it in,” he repeated. “then press on it with your hand for ten seconds.” he paused, his eyes narrowing as he scanned your face. “unless... you don't have difficulty with it anymore? you can just do it without the routine now?”
to be honest, you still had that exact same problem. the childhood difficulty hadn't magically disappeared, and the trick caleb had drilled into you was a literal physical habit you had been doing ever since. it was a secret piece of your daily life that still belonged to him, even after four years apart.
but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. you remained completely speechless, your lips parted.
caleb studied your silence for a beat longer, the corner of his mouth twitching with a shadow of that knowing smirk.
“nevermind.”
he suddenly slid his legs off the sofa and stood back up to his full height. the sudden rush of cool air where his body had just been made you feel instantly cold, exposed. caleb reached down, casually ruffling your messy hair with a quick hand, before turning on his heel.
“i should go back to fixing the sink back there before granny gets home,” he walked beyond the living room threshold, his bare feet padding softly against the wood. “go pee, pips,” he called out over his shoulder before his voice faded into the kitchen.
now you were left lying there on the cushions, entirely silent.
—
the next morning brought no relief from the heat; if anything, the humidity had thickened overnight, settling over the house like a damp woolen blanket by eight o’clock. you woke up with your skin already tacky, your hair plastered to the nape of your neck, and your mind instantly pivoting to the afternoon ahead. today was the day you were supposed to meet your friend from state u at the town plaza, and the mere thought of sitting in a crowded bus while looking unwashed was enough to make you drag your feet out of bed with a sense of urgency.
grabbing your clean clothes and a towel, you padded barefoot into the indoor bathroom, ready to submerge yourself in the shock of cold water. you twisted the plastic knob of the shower faucet.
nothing.
not even a rusty trickle.
you frowned, turning it all the way until the plastic creaked, but the pipes only answered with a mocking hiss.
ugh, caleb.
he had been elbow-deep in the plumbing just yesterday evening, claiming he was deep-cleaning and repairing the lines, and now the entire bathroom was bone-dry. he had probably shut off the main valve or misaligned the pressure tubes with his supposed logistical training.
with a frustrated huff, you realized your choices were entirely limited. you couldn't wait for granny to get back from the market to fix it, and you certainly weren't going to knock on caleb’s bedroom door to ask him for a favor after the suffocating display on the living room sofa.
there was only one alternative.
you shed your clothes and reached for a thin cotton sarong with a batik pattern that had grown incredibly soft from years of granny running it through the wash. you wrapped the fabric tight around your chest, tucking the edge securely over your breasts, and gathered your shampoo, soap, and a plastic basin.
if the modern plumbing was compromised, you’d have to do it the old-fashioned way.
the backyard was a secluded narrow strip of land shielded from the neighbors by a dense, unruly wall of trees and overgrown leaves. tucked into the furthest corner, sitting on a moss-slick concrete slab, was the old manual pump-well. the heavy iron looked ancient, its dark blue paint peeling away to reveal patches of orange rust, a relic from your childhood that hadn't been fully utilized since granny got the indoor electric pump installed years ago.
you set your basin down on the concrete and approached the pump, wrapping your fingers around the long iron handle.
you pushed down, and the lever didn't even budge.
“hnggggh!” you tried again, putting your entire weight into it, your slippers sliding slightly on the mossy concrete as you forced the iron arm upward to prime the cylinder. a screeching groan echoed from the metal throat of the pump, a sound so loud it felt like it was tearing through the quiet morning. your breath caught, your chest heaving against the tight tuck of the sarong as you pumped frantically, trying to coax the groundwater up through the dry valves. a bead of sweat rolled down from your temple, tracing a hot line down your neck as you struggled, your face flushing with a mix of physical exertion and mounting frustration.
“you're going to break your back doing it like that.”
your hands froze on the lever as you whipped your head around, your heart doing a sudden flip against your ribs that had absolutely nothing to do with the heavy lifting.
woah.
caleb looked like he had just walked straight out of a sports commercial—wearing a gray athletic tank top that clung to the damp contours of his chest and black gym shorts that showed off the lean, powerful definition of his thighs. his skin was flushed a warm pink, covered in a fine glistening sheen of sweat with a white towel slung carelessly around his neck.
he took a slow step into your space, his eyes tracking the frantic rise and fall of your chest beneath the thin cotton fabric of the sarong. his gaze flicked from your flushed cheeks, down to your strained shoulders, and finally settled on the rusted handle of the pump-well.
“just got back from a five-kilometer loop around the bypass road,” he tilted his head, a small smirk beginning to tug at the corner of his lips as he took in your disheveled state. “and i come back to find my pipsqueak fighting a piece of old iron. let me guess—the bathroom pipes aren't cooperating?”
“yeah, because of you.”
you pointed an accusing finger at his chest. “you were the one messing with the plumbing yesterday, caleb. i don't know what kind of aerospace engineering logic you applied to granny’s bathroom, but it's completely dry. so yes, the pipes aren't cooperating because you broke them.”
caleb didn't even have the decency to look guilty.
he just stood there, the corner of his mouth twitching upward into an intensely sarcastic smile that made you want to kick his shins. he listened to your scolding with an amused quiet indulgence, like he was watching a small kitten hiss at him through a window.
how annoying.
he didn't even offer an excuse. instead, he took a sudden step forward into your space. “calm down, let me help you.”
instinctively, your heels slid back against the mossy concrete, your arms crossing tightly over the knot of your sarong to keep it secure against your chest. but caleb wasn't looking at you—not yet. his eyes were on the rusted blue lever. he brushed past you, his sun-warmed shoulder cutting through your personal bubble, and wrapped his large hand around the iron handle right where yours had been just seconds ago.
and within two pumps, a thick gushing stream of crystal-clear groundwater burst from the spout, splashing loudly into the plastic basin below.
it was going alright now, thankfully.
you stood a step back, your tongue tucked behind your teeth as you tried to look anywhere but at him. but you couldn't help it. your eyes inevitably traced the flexion of his bicep every time he pulled the lever.
and then—splat!
caleb pushed the lever down too fast, and a full burst of water caught the edge of the basin, ricocheting straight up and hitting you square in the face.
“hey!” the freezing groundwater immediately drenched your forehead, eyelashes, and cheeks, running down the front of your neck and soaking the top line of your cotton sarong.
caleb froze instantly. the sarcastic smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden wide-eyed look of genuine panic. “oh—oops, i'm sorry,” he frantically dropped the iron handle and reached out with both hands, his white gym towel already bunching in his fingers. “i didn't mean to torque it that hard. are you okay? did it get in your nose?”
as a payback, you didn't even give him the chance to wipe your face. before he could step closer with the towel, you lunged downward, scooping a palmful of the freezing water straight out of the filled basin and throwing it upward with a vindictive flick of your wrist.
splat!
the water slapped caleb right across the jaw and eyes, head snapping back in surprise before he shook it aggressively from side to side—exactly like a wet golden retriever trying to shake off a bath—sending a spray of droplets flying from the wet strands of his hair.
he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, a boyish grin breaking through his wet features.
“serves you right.”
“alright, fair enough,” he chuckled, his voice dropping back into that rumbling cadence as he looked down at you.
then, his eyes flicked past your shoulder, landing on the small plastic tray sitting on the concrete slab—the bottle of shampoo, the bar of soap, and the clean towel you had neatly laid out.
“so,” caleb leaned one hand against the cool iron body of the pump, his gaze tracking a slow line from the soap back up to your wet face. “are you getting all washed up and pretty for that day out with your friend?”
you lifted your chin, “yup, i am.”
caleb’s grin hardened, freezing into a rigid imitation of a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
the silence of the backyard rushed back in, thick and suffocating, punctuated only by the rhythmic drip... drip... drip of the water from the spout into the overflowing basin.
“right,” his eyes tracked a slow path down to the wet fabric of your sarong. the thin cotton had absorbed the splash, turning translucent where it clung tightly to the curve of your chest and the dip of your waist. “the friend from state u. the one you walk home with?”
“javi,” you reached up, squeezing the excess water out of your hair strands, letting the drops splash onto the concrete between your feet. “we're going to the plaza. he wants to check out this old second-hand bookstore, and then we're getting dinner.”
“dinner?” caleb repeated, the word sounding flat, heavy, like a stone dropped into mud. “sounds like a lot of effort for a casual classmate.”
“he's not just a classmate, caleb. he's my best friend at university,” you stepped forward, intending to pick up your shampoo bottle, but caleb didn't move an inch. his broad shoulder remained firmly in your line of sight. “now, if you're done breaking things and splashing me, can you continue pumping the water so i can actually wash my hair? i'm going to be late.”
caleb looked at you for a long unreadable beat. then, a familiar smirk began to pull at the corner of his lips—but it was different this time. it was the calculating version of his smile, the one he wore right before he flipped a chessboard.
“sure, anything for my pipsqueak.”
he reached down, wrapping his fingers around the iron handle again, and began to pump. but he didn't do it quickly. he did it with a slow, agonizingly steady rhythm.
“you know, it's just a bit funny. four years away, and the first thing you do when i get back is run off to the city with some guy i’ve never met. makes a guy feel a little replaced.”
“you weren't replaced,” you muttered, leaning over the basin to scoop up some water to wet your hair, the movement causing your sarong to stretch tight across your back. “you left. there's a difference. you went to the academy, you got your own life, your own barracks... your own nursing student.”
the words slipped out before you could stop them, bitter and sharp.
“what did you say?”
“i said you have your own life,” you repeated stubbornly, forcing yourself to straighten up and look him in the eye. “so don't act like i'm the one breaking rules here. go save your overprotective routine for the girl from the nursing college. she's... the one you're planning to court, right?”
the iron handle came to a sudden dead stop.
the water ceased its gushing, reducing to a trickling stream that dripped lazily into the basin.
instead of shooting back with a witty remark, caleb simply averted his gaze. his long eyelashes fluttered as he blinked rapidly, his eyes tracking a random crack on the wet concrete slab. for the first time since he stepped out of that terminal, he looked... guilty.
almost... shameful?
“what, lost your tongue?” you straightened up from the basin, squeezing the wet fabric of your sarong tighter over your chest.
“you stand here lecturing me about hanging out with a friend, acting like you’re still my overprotective—ugh, i don't even know, when you’re literally planning to bring a new girl home next semester.” you purse your lips together, but it's too late to stop now. “you're such a hypocrite, caleb. go save your little 'hold it in' routines and your grand muscle displays for your precious nursing student. see if she actually tolerates your stupid, suffocating mind games, because frankly, i am so sick of hearing about how much you're moving on while i'm just supposed to sit here and—”
you cut yourself off, the words freezing in your throat. your heart did a violent terrifying drop into your stomach.
fuck.
you had just said entirely too much. the stinging venom in your voice hadn't sounded like a childhood best friend being annoyed; it had sounded like a deeply bitter jealous girl who was bleeding all over the concrete.
caleb's head snapped back up. the guilt in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sudden wide-eyed look of absolute shock. he swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing sharply as he stared at your face.
“there... is no nursing student,”
you paused. “huh?”
“i-i made her up,” caleb admitted.
”i invented her the exact second i got into the car yesterday. because you were looking at me like i was just a distant cousin.” he takes a deep breath, eyes wandering away while he furrowed his eyebrows. “you were so casual, so polite, talking about your university and your blockmates like my four years away didn't even matter to you. i got... i got terrified. i thought you completely outgrew me.”
and then, his eyes went back to yours. ”i've never even had the thought to get a girlfriend. i haven't looked at another girl that way since the day i left this hometown.”
you stood frozen in utter surprise, your mind completely blanking out. what the hell? your hands numbed against the cotton of your sarong, your mouth opening slightly but no sound coming out. how were you even supposed to react to that? the chess piece you thought he was playing to move on from you was nothing but a sick desperate lie to get a reaction out of you...
caleb let out a ragged sigh, a bitter self-deprecating chuckle rumbled deep in his bare chest. he looked down at his own wet gym shoes, shaking his head. “i'm such an idiot. i spent four actual years up at that academy staring at flight panels, thinking about nothing else other than coming back home to this house, to you... and just holding you in my arms all over again. but gideon's right. college really did a number on us. you have your own world now.”
he looked you straight in the eye then, his irises dark, intense, and swimming with a vulnerability that completely stripped him bare. “and i just... i missed—”
he stopped himself mid-sentence.
his jaw tensed, eyelids blinking rapidly as a sudden crimson blush bloomed furiously across his cheeks and spread down to his neck. he bit his lower lip, tearing his gaze away from your face and looking out toward the dense wall of trees.
your heart was now hammering so violently against your ribs you were certain he could see it lifting the thin fabric of your sarong.
“i was scared too,” you whispered, breaking the quiet before you could lose your nerve.
caleb’s head snapped back toward you, his eyes wide.
and you clenched your own fists against your thighs, keeping your eyes trained firmly on the concrete between your feet, too shy to meet his gaze. “the only reason i was acting like that in the car... was because i thought you came back as a stranger. you got so big, and you looked so different, and then you started talking about that girl... and i just thought you didn't need me anymore.” you swallowed the lump in your throat.
”all this time, caleb... i missed you. so much.”
there it was, laid out in the open.
caleb’s eyes widened in absolute awe, his breath catching so loudly in his throat it sounded like a gasp. he could do nothing else but to stare down at you, his chest heaving silently beneath his gray tank top.
but then—shreek!
the metal screech of the front gates swinging open suddenly cut through the heavy quiet, the sharp sound making the both of you flinch and snap your heads toward the driveway at the exact same time.
that must be granny.
just like that, your confession was left hanging in the damp morning air, completely cut off as you both went inside the house with granny's slow footsteps shuffling into view. she was carrying two heavy plastic bags filled with mangoes and avocadoes from the early market, her small frame leaning slightly to the side from the weight.
“oh, you're both awake,” granny mumbled, her voice carrying its usual sleepy cadence.
without a word, caleb fell back into his dutiful grandson role, though his face was still flushed a light pink.
he stepped away from you, his large frame moving quickly to take the heavy bags from her hands. you swallowed the lump in your throat and followed him into the kitchen, desperately trying to smooth down the edges of your cotton sarong so you didn't look as completely disheveled as you felt.
the two of you stood by the kitchen counter, casually helping her arrange the fruits into the wicker basket. every time your fingers accidentally brushed against his while reaching for a mango, an awkward jolt went straight up your arm.
granny paused, placing a hand on her hip as she looked at you funnily. “why do you have a sarong on this early? and your hair is wet.”
“the bathroom pipes aren't working, granny,” you explained quickly, your voice a little too high. “i was trying to use the pump-well outside.”
“ah, that old thing,” granny sighed, shaking her head and failing to notice the suffocating tension between you and caleb. “caleb, i told you to fix that last night. look what you did to your sister.”
caleb didn't say anything, just let out a small hum, his throat bobbing as he placed the last avocado in the basket.
“well, i'm quite tired from the walk,” granny rubs her lower back as she turned toward the stairs. “i'm going to take a short nap. caleb, come upstairs for a bit and help me find my maintenance meds in the cabinet. my eyes are too blurry today.”
“yes, gran. i'll be right up,” caleb replied without a single second of hesitation.
he finally turned his head to look at you as granny started her slow climb up the wooden steps. his eyes were still heavy with everything you both had just admitted out by the well, but he couldn't stay. he gave you one unreadable look before turning on his heel, his broad back disappearing up the staircase behind her.
and then, you were just standing there alone in the quiet kitchen.
in a wet sarong. without a proper bath.
fuck's sake.
you let out a long breath, your shoulders slumping as the reality of the situation hit you. your skin felt sticky from the groundwater, your hair was damp and tangled, and you were supposed to meet javi at the plaza later. with the bathroom completely dry and caleb occupied upstairs, a real shower was out of the question now.
muttering a curse under your breath, you walked back to your room, peeling the damp translucent cotton off your skin. you were forced to just wipe yourself down with a dry towel and change back into your casual home clothes.
knock. knock.
“you in there?“
caleb’s voice bled through the thin wood of the door, the sudden wrap of knuckles against your bedroom making you jump half a foot in the air. you quickly smoothed down the front of your fresh t-shirt, took a shaky breath to steady the frantic drumming in your chest, and pulled the door open.
caleb had finally put on a new shirt—a slightly faded black tee that somehow made his broad shoulders look even more intimidating in the cramped hallway—but he was standing there completely awkwardly. his hands were shoved deep into his gym shorts pockets, his elbows jutting out slightly, and he was deliberately looking at a framed vintage cross-stitch on the wall instead of looking at you. a faint, lingering trace of that dark crimson blush was still dusting the tips of his ears.
“uh, yeah?“
caleb cleared his throat, his adam's apple bobbing before he finally shifted his gaze down to meet your eyes.
“granny... uh, gran told me to get the bathroom pipes sorted before she wakes up from her nap,” caleb muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “she said since i was the one who messed them up, i have to fix them right now. but i... i need an extra pair of hands to hold the wrench from the other side of the basin valve.”
he paused, his eyes searching yours with a quiet hesitant look.
“come help me, please?”
—
the bathroom felt smaller than it ever had before.
you stood right over him, bare feet pressed against the cool porcelain of the floorboards, holding a heavy roll of teflon tape and a pair of rusted pliers in your hands. caleb was sitting flat on the floor, his long legs bent awkwardly in the tight space between the toilet bowl and the lower basin cabinetry.
neither of you spoke.
every rustle of his clothing, every heavy breath he exhaled, and every metallic click of his wrench against the pipe joint sounded like a damn gunshot in the cramped room.
your thumb kept sliding over the screen of your phone, lighting up the lock screen to check the digital clock. it was getting closer to the afternoon.
caleb noticed. even though his head was tucked beneath the porcelain basin, his shoulders went completely rigid the third time your phone screen illuminated the dim corner of the room.
then, the scraping sound of the wrench died out. caleb remained perfectly still for a long beat, his forehead resting lightly against the cold underside of the sink as if he were gathering a desperate amount of courage. slowly, he pulled himself back, his broad shoulders clearing the cabinet door as he looked up at you.
“are you...” caleb's voice cracked slightly before he cleared his throat, forcing the gravelly pitch down. “are you still going to the city with your friend?” he reached for the valve handle, his long fingers wrapping around the plastic knob with a hesitation that was entirely uncharacteristic of him.
the question was asked way too softly, way too hesitantly. he sounded small.
you froze, the roll of teflon tape slipping a fraction of an inch between your fingers. the truth was, the second those words had left your mouth by the backyard well—the second you had admitted that you spent four years missing him in the quiet of your bedroom—you had already resolved to cancel the day out. you didn't want to go to the plaza. you didn't want to browse second-hand books or eat dinner across from javi while your skin was still burning from caleb's touch.
but as you looked down at caleb’s upturned face, at the raw vulnerable waiting in his eyes...
“yes, i'm still going.”
why did you say it? you didn't even know. maybe it was a reflex, a desperate attempt to rebuild the walls he had so easily torn down out by the well. maybe you were terrified of what would happen if you stayed here alone with him while granny slept outside.
caleb didn't flare up. he didn't snap or offer a sarcastic remark. he just let out a low quiet hum, nodding his head twice as his eyes dropped back down to the plastic valve.
his reaction wasn't what you expected, and it made the hollow ache in your chest widen into something unbearable. what was supposed to happen now? were you both really going to sit here in the bathroom and pretend like you hadn't just shattered the childhood boundary? were you going to act like you hadn't confessed to missing him until it hurt?
“pips,” caleb said, his tone entirely too polite while he reached his hand upward without looking. “hand me the pliers. and... crawl down here for a second. i need you to hold the main pipe line steady while i tighten this last bolt, or the pressure's going to crack the plastic again.”
“okay,” you murmured instantly, doing exactly as you were told. you dropped the teflon tape onto the lid of the toilet and crouched down beside him.
the space was incredibly cramped.
caleb's position lied flat on his back on the bathroom floor. his head and shoulders are pushed completely inside the dark open cabinet space beneath the sink basin so he can reach the pipes. and because his legs are so long, the lower half of his body is sticking out.
“alright, look,” caleb muttered, his voice echoing hollowly against the underside of the sink. he pointed a long finger at the heavy gray intake pipe. “when i start turning the wrench on this coupling bolt, the whole pipe is gonna want to twist with it. if it twists too much, it’ll snap the plastic threads inside the wall. i need you to take the pliers, clamp them onto the upper collar, and hold it perfectly still. think you can do that?”
and because you have to help him by holding a pipe that is also inside that dark cabinet, you'd have to lean your entire upper body over his chest while you crouched beside his hips and thighs.
“i'm not completely useless, caleb.” you whispered back.
“never said you were,” he murmured, his eyes flickering up to meet yours beneath the sink. for a second, his gaze lingered on your lips, before he blinked and forced his attention back to the metal wrench in his hand. “alright. on three. one... two... three.”
you clamped the pliers onto the collar and squeezed with all your might. you could hear caleb grunting below you, biceps bunching as he threw his strength into turning the stubborn rusted bolt. but the second the wrench caught, your hand slipped on the grease-slicked metal. the pliers clattered loudly against the tiles, and the gray pipe twisted with a nasty screech.
“wait, wait! stop!” you gasped, your fingers scrambling to grab the tool again.
“you're letting it turn!” caleb yelled, though it was more of a breathless panicked laugh than an actual scold. he had to throw his arm over your shoulder, his large hand coming down over yours to help you steady the pliers. “there, hold it tight like that and squeeze!”
“i am squeezing! your hands are too big, you're blocking my grip!”
“okay, okay, teamwork, remember?” caleb chuckled, his breath fanning across your neck. “let me reposition. you hold the handle with both hands, and i’ll just use raw force on the wrench. ready? go."
this time, you locked your fingers around the pliers, planting your heels firmly against the tiled floor and leaning your entire body weight into the tool to keep the line steady. caleb grunted again, a low sound deep in his throat, and with one shove of his arm, the rusted coupling bolt finally gave way, sliding smoothly into place with a satisfying click!
“is that it?” you panted, your knuckles white from gripping the pliers.
“uh, turn the valve. let's see.”
still hovering over him, you reached out and twisted the small plastic knob all the way to the left. for a second, there was a breathless silence—and then, the hollow hiss in the walls was replaced by the rushing water. you both waited, eyes wide, staring at the joint.
not a single drop leaked out. it was perfectly, completely dry.
a breathless laugh then tore out of your chest before you could stop it. “we actually did it!”
“good job, pips.” caleb smiled, his hands coming up to clap against his thighs as he slid himself out from under the sink. ”this is exactly like that summer when we tried to build that stupid treehouse behind the old chapel. remember? you dropped the entire box of nails into the mud and blamed it on a stray dog.“ a nostalgic smile broke across his face as he sat back on his heels.
you wiped the stray pools of water from the floor with an old rag, while caleb casually tossed the teflon tape and pliers back into his plastic toolbox. “because it was a stray dog! it barked at me and i got scared, and need i remind you who tried to use a literal rock because he forgot to bring a hammer?”
“hey, the rock worked for at least three planks,” caleb defended himself, catching the rag you threw at him with a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that specific, beautiful way they always did when he was genuinely happy. “besides, i was twelve. cut me some slack. at least i didn't cry when the roof fell through.”
“i did not cry because the roof fell, caleb, i cried because a caterpillar fell on my shoulder!”
“same thing, baby. you were a total baby.”
“says the guy who still can't sleep without a fan on because he thinks the darkness makes the room smaller,” you shot back, leaning your shoulder against the bathroom wall.
caleb paused, his grin softening into something incredibly tender, leaving behind the golden-boy warmth you had starved for over the last four years.
“i missed this.” he casually reached out, his long fingers gently tugging at a loose strand of your hair that had dried in a messy curl against your cheek. “i missed you making fun of me. the guys at the academy are too polite. it’s boring.“
“yeah?” your heart did that erratic skip against your ribs again as his thumb lightly brushed against the edge of your jawline. “well... someone has to keep your ego in check.”
“exactly, can't have me flying planes with an oversized head, right?”
you finally stood up, your knees cracking slightly as you broke the spell of the small space.
“i'm gonna... i should probably check the kitchen. granny bought some fish earlier, so i'll start cooking lunch before she wakes up.” you murmured, keeping your voice light as you took a step toward the exit, your hand already reaching for the brass doorknob.
you didn't even get to wrap your fingers around the metal when—
thud.
a large palm slammed flat against the wood of the door right in front of your face, the sudden vibration rattling through the frame. you jumped in surprise, your breath catching sharply in your throat as you instinctively whirled around.
“don't.”
caleb was looming directly over you, but it was the look on his face that made your heart stop. the boyish smile from seconds ago was entirely gone. instead, his features were twisted into a deeply troubled, desperate grimace.
“don't go.”
you frowned. “what do you mean? i'm just going to the kitchen—”
“don't go to the city today,” he interrupted, his tone shifting into something bolder as he stepped even closer, effectively trapping your smaller frame beneath his. “i only have two months here. that's it. sixty days before they drag me back to the barracks and put me back in a cockpit. so...”
caleb hesitates, but he takes a deep breath.
“can you just stay here? can you... spend every single day with me before i have to leave again?"
you stared up at him, your mouth parting slightly. fuck, you were blushing now. it must be so visible.
caleb’s hand—the one planted firmly beside your head—slowly curled into a tight fist against the wood of the door. “it feels like i missed you a hell of a lot more than you missed me.” his voice dropped an octave, turning into a vulnerable murmur. “you have no idea how many nights i spent staring at the ceiling of that concrete bunk, just waiting to see your face this close again.”
speechless, you could only look up at him, your mind completely short-circuiting under his honesty.
desperate to find some sort of anchor, desperate to make sense of the dizzying reality that caleb—your childhood friend that you should see as a brother—was practically begging for your attention, you swallowed hard and blurted out the first defensive defense your brain could manufacture.
“why didn't you get a girlfriend there?” you try, blinking rapidly as you struggled to maintain his gaze. “i mean it, caleb. you're... you're handsome, and you're well-built. it’s completely impossible that you didn't at least have girls trying to talk to you or court you up there.“
“why didn't i get one?” a slow smile broke through his troubled expression, his eyes glittering with a sudden amusement. he tilted his head down, his gaze dropping briefly to your small hands, before snapping back up to lock directly into your eyes.
“because... i prayed every single day. i closed my eyes at night and prayed that you wouldn't have a boyfriend by the time i got back.” you press your head further against the wood of the door, just when caleb nears his face close enough. “the thought of another man touching what belongs to this house... what belongs to me... would really, deeply upset me."
he leaned down a fraction of an inch further, but then he suddenly breaks the proximity by pulling back.
“and... did you just say i'm handsome?” caleb smiled wider, his thumb trailing down the doorframe to lightly graze the very edge of your wet shoulder. “so... is that an admission? am i attractive to you?”
am i attractive to you?
your lips parted, but no sound came out.
the sheer audacity of him—shifting from a desperate aching boy to this dangerously confident creature in the span of a single breath—was enough to make your throat go dry. you wanted to push him away, wanted to snap at him for using that rumbling tone on you, but you couldn't.
“you're an idiot, caleb.”
“that's not an answer, pips.”
he moved his hand from the doorframe, his fingers sliding slowly down the side of your neck. his palm was warm, a stark contrast to the chilled skin of your collarbone where the groundwater had soaked you earlier. his thumb found the frantic pulse point fluttering at the base of your throat, pressing just firmly enough to let you know he could feel exactly how much power he held over you in this room.
just outside, through the wooden slats of these walls, granny was sleeping. the knowledge that she was just at the other side of the room—that a single loud noise, a dropped tool, or a sharp gasp would shatter the quiet of the house...
“caleb, stop,“ you breathed, the protest losing all its teeth as your fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him slightly closer instead of pushing him back. “granny will...”
“i'm being quiet,” he whispered back, tilting his head until his lips were brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “but you're driving me crazy.”
a soft whimper caught in your throat, and caleb immediately swallowed it.
“hmgh—!”
you felt his hand sliding from your neck up to your jaw, tilting your face up as his lips came down to meet yours.
it wasn't the sweet, tentative kiss of childhood friends.
it was rather heavy, desperate, and laced with an aching hunger that had been rotting inside his chest for several months.
his lips pressed firm and unyielding against yours, demanding a response you had been starving to give. you let out a muffled gasp against his mouth, and caleb took total advantage of it—his tongue slid past your teeth with a stroke that made your knees buckle.
you would have almost slid straight down the door if caleb’s other arm hadn't instantly locked around your waist.
he hoisted you up, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips through your thin shorts, dragging your lower body flush against his. the solid weight of him was overwhelming; you could feel the hard contours of his thighs and the frantic rising and falling of his chest.
you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, your fingers tangling into the short, damp strands of his hair, pulling him down further. you kissed him back with the same bitterness you’d been hoarding since he left—punishing him for the distance, for the nursing student lie, for the suffocating way he made you feel like you belonged to him even when he was hundreds of miles away.
your hands, tangled in the soft fabric of his black t-shirt, moved themselves to his shoulders, pushing against the stubborn muscle until he was forced to take a blind step backward. his heel caught against the base of the toilet, and with a muffled grunt, caleb sank down.
the plastic lid was securely closed, providing a seat that placed him directly beneath you, his knees spread wide to accommodate the sudden change in height.
you froze for a second, your breath hitching as you stood between his thighs. the sudden drop in his posture left you looking down at him, your hands still resting on his broad shoulders while he looked up at you through his eyelashes. you hesitated, your lower lip stinging from the friction of his mouth, and despite of it all, your mind kept on screaming that you were crossing a line you could never uncross.
but caleb didn't give you the chance to overthink it.
his hands reached up, palms slick with a light sheen of sweat as they wrapped firmly around the sides of your waist. with one heavy pull, he guided your hips forward. and then, your knees slid effortlessly over his thick, denim-clad thighs until you were completely straddling his lap.
“ah—”
shit, this is such an intimate position!
the impact of your lower body hitting his thighs made a gasp slip from your throat, but caleb caught it instantly again. he surged upward, his mouth slamming back over yours to smother the sound before it could echo past the wooden door.
the kiss turned frantic, fueled by the weight of your body resting completely on his. it wasn't gentle anymore. caleb’s tongue pushed deep, demanding and possessive, while his teeth lightly caught the flesh of your bottom lip, biting down just enough to make you whine into his mouth. you bit him back in retaliation, an instinctive nip that made a guttural vibration rumble deep in his chest. his hands moved from your waist, one sliding up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling roughly into your damp hair to hold your face exactly where he wanted it, while the other pressed flat against your lower back.
and then, without warning, your mind went entirely, terrifyingly blank.
a sudden rolling pressure moved beneath the thin fabric of your shorts. caleb arched his back just to grind his hips upward in a slow tilt that pressed the hard length of his arousal directly against your center.
then, a sharp jolt of pure heat shot straight up your spine, making your eyes flutter shut as your fingers clawed into the fabric of his shirt.
“caleb—” you gasped against his lips, trying to pull back just an inch to breathe.
“shh,” he breathed, his mouth instantly chasing yours, his lips brushing against your cheek, your jawline, before burying his face in the crook of your neck. his breathing was completely ragged, a suffocating thing against your collarbone. he didn't stop. his hand on your lower back moved down, a heavy palm pressing firmly against the base of your spine, and he ground his hips upward again, harder this time, forcing you to feel every single inch of how aroused he's just getting.
“please,” caleb whispered into your skin, his voice cracking. ”don't move away. please... just let me feel you like this. i’m so tired of imagining it.”
“granny will...” you whimpered, your head tilting back as his teeth lightly grazed the sensitive skin right beneath your ear. your hands were shaking against his shoulders, your lower body instinctively tilting into his next roll, a shameless surrender that made him let out a broken sigh. “caleb, if she... if she hears us...”
“she won't,” he muttered against your skin, his thumb digging firmly into your hip bone, locking you flush against him so there wasn't a single millimeter of space left between your bodies. he took a deep breath, his chest expanding hard against yours as he forced his movements to become agonizingly slow. “i’ll be quiet. just stay. please... you’re right here, you’re finally right here...”
“i'm here,” you whispered breathlessly into his ear. “i'm right here.”
your skin was beginning to sting where it pressed against his. the agonizingly slow tilts of his hips couldn't stay slow for long.
without either of you consciously deciding it, the grinding turned into a drag of weight against weight—a quiet breathless dryhumping that sent waves of heat pooling directly between your thighs.
the fabric of your loose shorts and his heavy denim rubbed together with a soft, repetitive whisper—it was the only continuous sound in the small space besides the ragged, broken cadence of your breaths. caleb’s hands were no longer just holding you; they were practically anchoring you to him. his long fingers buried into the flesh of your bum, pulling your pelvis down hard against his with every upward surge of his thighs.
“caleb—”
the name was clipped neatly from your tongue as he hitched his hips higher, a muffled whimper escaping your throat. you slapped a hand over your own mouth, your eyes widening in sheer panic as you stared at the bathroom door. the reminder of granny sleeping just down the hall felt like a wire wrapped tight around your throat.
caleb caught your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from your lips only to replace it with his own shoulder. “bite me,” he choked out a whisper. “bite the shirt. don't... don't make a sound.”
you didn't hesitate. you buried your face into the soft black cotton of his shoulder, your teeth sinking into the fabric as caleb let out a shuddering gasp.
he was a complete mess.
nothing more than a boy who looked thoroughly undone by your weight in his lap. a dark crimson blush had crawled all the way up his neck, blooming across his sharp cheekbones and turning the tips of his ears a burning pink. his long eyelashes were damp, fluttering rapidly as he kept his eyes squeezed shut.
every time your weight humped against his hard bulge, a whine would catch in his throat, a sound he desperately swallowed by burying his face into your hair.
you began to move with him, your hips rolling in a frantic rhythm that matched his pace, chasing the tight, coil of pleasure that was tightening in your stomach. this makes his fingers dig brutally into your hip bones.
“wait—hey, wait,” he wheezed, his hips stuttering against yours as he tried to find his bearings. he was trembling beneath you, the muscles in his thighs and arms locked so tight they were vibrating. he opened his eyes, irises completely blown out, to look up at you. “you're... if you move like that... i won't be able to stay quiet.”
“then don't move,” you breathed against his neck, unable to stop humping him like a starving bunny.
“i can't,” he whispered back, a tear of sheer overstimulation tracing down his flushed temple. a soft, helpless whimper broke from his chest as his hips instinctively arched upward again, completely disregarding his own warning. he ground his lower body against yours in three quick, desperate, and torturously deep strokes, his head falling back against the porcelain tank as he fought a losing battle to keep his ragged groans silent inside.
“how about...” you panted, “how about we do this standing up? would that... would that make less noise?“
caleb's movements immediately stopped, his breath hitching sharply in his throat at the suggestion. he didn't answer with words; his large hands just tightened around your waist, and with a low grunt of exertion, he stood up, lifting you effortlessly off his lap before setting your feet firmly back onto the cool tile floor.
before your knees could buckle from the sudden rush of cold air, caleb's heavy palms guided you forward. you found yourself bending over the bathroom sink, your upper body lowering until your forearms were pressed flat against the cool, smooth porcelain basin...
right in front of the wide mirror.
seconds later, the towering weight of caleb’s chest loomed against your back. he adjusted his stance, his long legs spreading slightly to frame yours, and then he crowded back into you. the thick ridge of his arousal aligned perfectly with your ass from behind, pressing hard against your thin cotton shorts.
he started moving again, but this angle... this angle was entirely different.
it was so much more exposing, so much more intense, because when you look up, your blurred vision collided directly with your reflection in the mirror.
you could see everything. you could see your own flushed breathless face, your lips swollen and wet from his kisses. and right behind you, caleb was a mess. his dark hair was thoroughly mussed, cheeks and neck burning with a furious blush.
with every thrust from him, the force of his hips sent a jolt of heat straight to your throbbing thing, making your hands slick against the porcelain as you gripped the edges of the sink for dear life.
“hngh...! caleb—”
“shh—you have to keep quiet,” caleb scrambled to scold you, but he sounded completely panicked, his breathing so loud and ragged it was a miracle granny couldn't hear it from outside. “gran's room is... it's literally right beside this. if you make a sound, i'm gonna—we're gonna get caught.”
even while trying to play the protective guide, his eyes shifted downward in the reflection. staring at your bent-down position, watching the way your body curved beneath his and how perfectly you took every push of his thighs, was enough to send caleb entirely over the edge. he went visibly harder against you, his long fingers trembling violently where they were clamped over your hip bones.
“god, shit—” caleb choked out, his forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder blade, his chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. his rhythm turned a little clumsy, a little too eager, his hips grinding up against you with an uncoordinated, desperate hunger that made your mind spin. “i... i don't even know what i'm doing. i almost... i can't believe this is real. you're actually here. you're really letting me do this.”
“caleb, you're moving too fast,” you whimpered, your fingers slipping on the wet porcelain as he gave another firm, deep roll of his pelvis that made your thighs shake.
“i'm sorry, i'm sorry,” pressing a line of apologetic kisses along your shoulder blade, he consciously tried to slow himself down, his large hands squeezing your hips to steady the rhythm, though the intense blush on his face only deepened until his ears were practically purple. “is this better? like this?”
“yeah... yeah..”
suddenly, caleb’s hands moved from your hips, his long fingers sliding beneath the hem of your shorts.
“hey,” he choked out. “i can't... i'm not staying behind these clothes anymore. i need to feel you.”
with a frantic uncoordinated rush of movement that was entirely fueled by a lack of control, he pulled your shorts and underwear down to your knees, managing to free himself from his gym shorts at the exact same time.
the sudden sensation of his bare, burning skin pressing against your uncovered backside made you gasp. “w-wait, caleb, what are y—”
he didn't wait. caleb guided the tip of his manhood to your entrance and pushed forward. with a slow, agonizingly thick surge, he slid completely inside of you.
the size of him filled you so entirely it took your breath away. your fingers clawed at the slick porcelain of the sink, your head dropping as a high broken whimper left your lips. caleb let out a long trembling groan against your shoulder, his chest heaving violently as he buried himself to the hilt.
“fuck, fuck!”
”be quiet, caleb...”
“s-sorry, fuck.” a lazy smirk tugged at his lips in the reflection, his hands tightening on your waist. “see? i told you nobody else could fit you like this. you're shaking.”
he buries his head into your hole much, much deeper. “did you miss me this much?”
the teasing sting of his words, even now, made a surge of stubborn retaliation flare up in your chest. you didn't want him to see how completely undone you were. pulling your hands off the sink, you tried to straighten your spine and pull yourself forward, attempting to slide off his dick to break his rhythm.
it was the wrong move.
the sudden threat of losing you made caleb snap completely. his large hands locked around your hips like iron cuffs, yanked you violently backward, and thrusted into you with a force that was so deep and heavy it made your vision go entirely white.
“don't run from me,” caleb gave another hard, bruising thrust that almost hit your womb, pinning you ruthlessly against the porcelain. his upper body slammed against your back, his face completely flushed a dark, furious crimson as he forced your head up. “look at yourself in the mirror. look at what you're doing to me. look at how much of me is inside you right now.”
you couldn't even form words to respond. you were completely paralyzed by how big, how thick, and how utterly unrelenting he felt stretching you open from the inside. all you could do was grip the edges of the sink for dear life, your knuckles turning white as your body struggled to take his bare thighs slapping against yours.
yet, for all his dominant holding, caleb was a complete, crying mess.
every single time he shoved his hips forward, a pathetic little moan escaped his throat—sounds he tried so desperately to bite back, burying his face in your wet hair or chewing on his own bottom lip until it bled, utterly terrified of waking granny up outside.
“fuck, please,” caleb whimpered against your neck, penetrating you over and over again with each stroke making you cry out into your hand. he was trembling so hard the vibration traveled straight into your body. “can we... can we do this every day? just until i leave again? please. tell me you'll let me do this to you every single day?”
you couldn't even answer him. you were too occupied, and quite literally occupied, by the way he's pounding against your ass.
he was driving into you, his pelvis slamming against your backside with a wet and heavy sound. it was too much. the fullness of him stretching you open was overwhelming, and as he bottomed out completely inside you for the third time in a row, the careful restraint in your throat shattered.
“aaangh~!”
before the sound could even fade, caleb's palm snapped upward to clamp firmly over your mouth. his long fingers wrapped tightly around your jaw, crushing your lips against your teeth and effectively smothering your next desperate gasp into a muffled whimper against his skin.
“i told you to stay quiet,” but even as he scolded you, his lower body didn't slow down for a single second. if anything, your loud reaction only drove him deeper into the edge, his hips pumping into you even faster. “you're gonna wake her up. do you want gran to walk in here and see you like this? see what a bad girl you're being f'me?”
you were completely pathetic beneath him now. you couldn't breathe properly, you couldn't scream, and you couldn't pull away. all you could do was let out small broken whines against his palms, your tears wetting his fingers as your hips shook uncontrollably under the force of his penetration. you were nothing but a trembling, weeping toy for him to use.
“shit... oh god, shit, look at you,”
followed by a groan, his entire body went rigid as he reached his breaking point. needing to get even deeper, to consume every remaining inch of you before he spilled, he reached down with his other hand and hooked it beneath your thigh. with one effortless pull, he lifted your leg up to force you to balance precariously on one foot while your knee was pinned up against his waist. “fuck, i'm so close,”
the new, devastatingly wide angle opened you up completely. it only allowed him to bury his entire length into you with a series of shoving that made your head snap back.
“don't make a sound,” caleb choked out, his voice cracking into a crying whisper while he began to hammer into you with his hand pressing harder against your mouth. “keep it in. take all of me right now. just take it.”
the final push of his hips sent your mind spiraling into absolute oblivion, your body tightening around his thickness in a series of violent, helpless spasms that milked him completely. caleb let out a sharp gasp against the crown of your head, his entire muscular frame going stiff as iron against your back. he knew he was at the absolute point of no return. even through the blinding fog of his climax, that ingrained discipline and the terrifying reality of the consequences cut through his thoughts.
with a sudden, desperate grunt of exertion, caleb grabbed your hip bone with bruising force and violently pulled himself out of you.
the abrupt sensation of emptiness made a choked sob rise in your throat, but before you could even register the loss, caleb’s release hit you. he came in heavy thick spurts across your backside and the small of your lower back.
“oh, god—oh fuck, i'm coming, i'm coming,” caleb cried out, his voice completely fracturing into a loud mess. he couldn't even keep himself quiet anymore. “fuck, i love you, i love you so much. look at what you did to your caleb.”
a crying whimper escaped his lips as the final waves of his orgasm racked his large body. his hand finally slid off your face, fingers trembling as he let go of your jaw, leaving your lips swollen and burning. instead, he dropped both of his heavy palms onto the curves of your hips. “look at this fucking mess...”
meanwhile, your upper body remained slumped over the cool porcelain of the sink. your fingers were weakly splayed against the slick basin, completely devoid of any remaining strength. your knees were wobbling so much beneath your weight that the only thing keeping you from collapsing onto the tiled floor was the unyielding grip of caleb's hands on your waist.
slowly, caleb’s heavy breathing began to level out, turning into shallow, ragged pants against the nape of your neck. he opened his eyes, staring down at the reflection in the wide glass mirror.
he could only stare at the mess in absolute awe. the sight of you bent over the sink, your shorts pushed down to your knees, your pale skin flushed a deep beautiful crimson and glistening with his thick, white fluids, looked like something straight out of the sinful dreams he had hoarded in his concrete barracks. it didn't feel real. the fact that he had actually touched you, filled you, and marked you like this inside his grandmother’s house made his heart thump.
with a sigh, caleb leaned his entire weight forward, completely hugging you from behind. his broad chest pressed firmly against your back while his large arms wrapped securely around your waist to support your sagging frame. he buried his face into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as if he were trying to memorize it all over again.
“pipsqueak,” he whispered, his voice incredibly rough, gravelly. ”hey... look at me. are you okay? did i hurt you?”
you let out a small whimper, your head shifting weakly against his shoulder as you managed to nod. “yes... i'm okay.”
caleb let out a breathy chuckle, and he tilted his head to press a soft kiss against your burning cheek. “do you think we woke gran up?”
you swallowed the dryness in your throat as you stared blankly at the porcelain basin. “i... i don't know, caleb. you were really loud at the end.”
caleb hummed, a lazy, satisfied sound as his thumbs lightly stroked the sensitive skin of your hip bones, soothing the small red marks his fingers had left behind.
“well... if she's awake, she's probably just gonna think i'm clumsy and dropped the wrench again,” he murmured into your hair, his grip tightening just a fraction, pulling you closer into his warmth. “come on. let's get you cleaned up. i'll wash you down, and then... i'll cook you that braised pork you love right now. the one with the sweet soy sauce and the star anise. how would that sound, pips?”
“that sounds great, gege.”
caleb gulped at the nickname. “it's been a while since you used that on me,” his face breaks into a smile, and then he leans down to look at you in the eye instead of through the mirror. “what if you use that while we do it again tonight?”
Leon had never realized just how small babies were until he finally held his own. As he rocks her back and forth, attempting to get her to fall asleep, he realizes that she’s almost as tiny as his hand. The tiny human that is half of him, yet not even one fourth his size.
She’s small, but she’s a little bundle of energy, he’ll give her that. As Leon’s eyes shut on their own, she looks up at him with wide eyes.
“C’mon, let’s go to sleep,” Leon says, hoping that she’ll magically understand. Yet she looks at him with wide eyes, absolutely full of energy. Leon swore he was a ball of energy until he had a baby– Now he knows what being sleep deprived truly is.
He closes his eyes, tilting his head to the side and letting out a fake snore to encourage her to sleep. It doesn't work in his favor, on the contrary, she giggles. Leon can’t help but chuckle at her reaction, kissing the top of her head and saying, “Guess that was funny, wasn’t it? I’m a pretty funny guy.”
“It’s late, honey. Won’t you let your daddy sleep?” he tries to argue, knowing that no amount of logic will get to her. “You seriously don’t want another baba? It’s three in the morning, honey.”
He looks down at her, hoping to see her eyes get heavy and a yawn escape her face. But no, she’s looking up at him curiously. He throws his head back, letting out a laugh in disbelief. He knows he won’t get any sleep tonight.
He just wants to get back to you and succumb to slumber, but it seems that his daughter has other plans for him. It’s fine though, she’ll never be this tiny ever again and he’ll make sure to enjoy every moment. He can’t think of a better way to lose sleep.
Leon has had to coax your voice during intimacy in your relationship, had to let you know that it’s okay to be sexual and openly communicate with him, no matter your preferences. He also made it clear that he’d never persuade you into doing things you weren’t comfortable with, and if you wanted to remain more vanilla, he’d be fine with it. So when his good girl, his princess, requested that he be a little rougher tonight, he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity, not when you’ve always been so reserved when it comes to sex.
❥Labels & Warnings: 18+
Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Resident Evil 9 Leon, Reader insert, Reader is on the shy/reserved side, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Age gap relationship, References to the age gap, Use of daddy, Use of princess, Use of baby/good/dirty girl, Small mention of Leon putting a baby in you.
The sounds coming from your mouth are as vile as the gentle smacks and squelches that fill your shared bedroom with Leon. Clinging to his pillar-like body, you press your face to his, feeling the prickly scratch of his stubble against your cheek, lips, and chin. Large and rugged, his hands cup your ass with your legs hooked over the crook of his elbows. The unfamiliar position maddens Leon, driving him to handle you with a roughness he isn’t used to using on you. You’re forced to take the girth that splits you wide, the stretch more intense in this position. Your body jostles with his muscular frame, breasts pressing into his hard pecs. He’s hot against you, barely breaking a sweat while he’s carrying you and sinking into you with soft grunts. Every thrust pulls on your heart; the pleasure he delivers encompasses your mind, body, and soul. You’re like a melted candle in his big, firm arms, shaking while he’s sturdy as can be. He’s so strong; he can handle the powerful recoil from Requiem after all.
“Too much, princess?” Leon checks in with you, the grip on your ass creating handprints.
“N-no,” you shakily respond, toes curling from their position at his lower back. “Can you do it h-harder,” you stutter, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. “Please,” you whimper out, your voice sweeter than candy as his glossy cock glides through your taut walls.
Leon’s hips stutter, only for a second before they begin smacking against you at a faster, harder pace. The request, paired with your hips trying to meet his pelvis, is downright explicit coming from you.
“Thought you were my good girl,” he grunts, swiftly smacking your ass.
“I am,” you pathetically and eagerly moan, the sting on your cheek ringing through your skin.
Leon scoffs playfully, his bangs tickling your ear. “Good girls don’t moan like you’re moaning, and they definitely don’t try to ride their old boyfriend’s cock like this.”
Your hips pause their movements, tightening your arms around his neck and burying your face into his neck. “You’re not old.”
The way you said it in a hushed tone makes him chuckle.
“Too old for you.”
“Just right for me,” you correct, walls clamping down on him.
“Fuck, you’re perfect for me,” Leon growls, delivering a single, harder slap over the same spot he smacked you earlier.
You squeal and dig your nails into his skin, drawing vibrant red marks over old scratches on his trapezius muscle.
“Let me look at you, baby,” he rasps.
You straighten your back so he can see your face, his thrusts slowing but still deep. Sharp and dark, his eyes lay their wonderment over your pretty features, taking in how divine you look. Your hair’s a mess, your eyes are watery, your mouth is agape; you’re in awe.
“Mmm,” he hums, inspecting the obscene expression you wear, voice deeper than the vast ocean. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”
Leon often gets lost in how pretty you are, and right now is no exception, seeing you so fucked out is ruining any self-control he has left.
“My baby girl wants it rough, hm?” Leon’s question is punctuated with a brutal slam, resuming the speed he was at.
You can tell he’s far gone as his tongue drips with lewd words like honey.
“Y-yeess,” your stutter grows into a drawn-out moan, feeling the fat end of his cock push into a sweet spot that makes your heart flip, and your eyes roll back.
Leon’s pale blues observe your lips, traversing upward to your eyes, lost in thought, as if he’s thinking whether or not he should ask what he’s about to ask.
“Want me to ruin you?”
The million-dollar question sets the atmosphere ablaze.
You nod, tears threatening to spill past your lash line. “Ruin me, Leon.”
Hissing through gritting teeth, Leon’s last threads of restraint snap. If you want him to break you, he will, just for his princess.
The sharp jut of his pelvis catches you off guard, and you choke on your breath. Leon’s thick tip reaches deeper than ever before, a bulge threatening to show itself in your lower belly as he grows ruthless. You never felt him be this rough before, and it’s something else compared to his usual gentle yet dominant demeanor. There have been many times he wanted to be rough with you, but you were his fragile princess who couldn’t take too much. To finally feel his force, the one he uses during training and missions, is making your entire body vibrate.
Your hands slip down to his firm pectorals from the impact, making Leon pause to make sure you have a good grip on him.
“Make sure you hold on tight, princess,” he rumbles, kissing your cheek sweetly.
Leon lets go of your ass to wrap a hand around your wrist, pulling it over his neck, his touch soft and gentle. You secure your hands together around his neck, your arms bending around his wide shoulders as you become flush to his body, your heart pounding against the hard planes of his chest. His steely fingers slowly skim down your arm, following it down to your ribs, waist, and hips until he’s cradling your ass with both hands.
“Gonna need it,” he grumbles, squeezing your cheeks.
Leon’s hips pull back before pushing back in, renewing the tempo. He uses your ass as leverage to hoist you onto his cock while his pelvis meets you halfway for a hard smack. The whimpers that hit his ear as he fucks you nasty drive him crazy. You’re so incredibly wet, dripping down his balls as they smack against you with appalling squelches.
“So fuckin’ wet,” he grunts, the force of his savage drives breaking up his words.
Leon’s mouth falls open with pants, savoring your heat that’s stretched over him like a glove.
“Makin’ a mess on the floor,” he says, grunting at the end of each strike of his ravenous hips.
Sliding through your constricting walls, his cock pulses with a need to smear your insides with his semen.
“Let me see that pretty face of yours,” he asks you again, unable to help himself as he needs to see your face unravel.
You shift back, but only enough to be a couple of centimeters away from his face. Seeing his handsome face causes you to moan aloud. With his bangs messy against his cheeks, his eyes are intense, mimicking the expression he has when a zombie is in his gunsight. The peppery stubble across his handsome face accentuates his features, and his charming wrinkles make you want to kiss every inch of them. He’s all yours, this beast of a man that’s capable of unimaginable feats, and he’s fucking you like his life depends on it.
“Leon,” you whine, your heart skipping several beats as your fingers dig into his muscular back.
You almost want to tell him it’s too much, because it is, too much in terms of how good he’s fucking you. By now, he’s sure you’ve made him bleed from the scratches that sting his back, shoulders, and trapezius.
“Feels good, baby?”
Leon’s eyes falter to your lips, watching you chew on your bottom lip as you try not to scream from the overwhelming amount of pleasure shooting through you when he bottoms out.
“None of that.”
Leon’s authoritative tone makes you snap out of it, and you leave your poor lip alone. Breathless gasps start escaping you every time his taut balls press up into you after he bottoms out.
“Wanna hear you, baby,” Leon hums.
As if he wasn’t already ruining you enough, Leon’s thrusts quickly evolve into rapid successions. He knocks the air out of you, your voice reducing to short, broken cries as you try to breathe normally. Clapping skin rings through the room like dynamite, inciting a frenzy within Leon.
“Pretty little pussy swallowing daddy’s cock like a good girl,” he snarls, a scowl painting his face.
The sudden drop of ‘daddy’ makes you cum instantly. Leon lets out a fierce growl that complements your scream as he bludgeons you with blinding pleasure. Your hips jitter uncontrollably against his pelvis, your pussy trying to close in around him. Small droplets leak out of you and around his gliding cock as his girth fights your walls from closing in on him. Clutching his muscled back, your hips' involuntary roll makes Leon’s rhythm stutter.
“God damn, baby,” he laments, watching you cum harder than ever before.
Shaking like a leaf in the ample muscle of his arms, you whimper from the aftershocks of a mind-numbing orgasm.
“Leon,” you blubber out, tears rolling down your cheeks as you hide your face from him.
“Sweetheart,” he coos, rushing to cradle your cheek with a hand he frees from clutching your ass. “Are you okay?”
With tears glittering across your eyelashes, you look at him helplessly, nestling into his large hand.
“Mhm.”
Leon scans your face for any pain or regret you might have after he treated you roughly for the first time. “Why the tears, hm?”
His tender tone of voice makes your pussy quiver all over again, and he feels it. You catch one of his eyebrows perking up, and his mouth growing into a lop-sided grin.
“You fuck me so good,” you utter, eyes glossy and far gone.
Leon whistles to himself, chuckling darkly as he shakes his head. You usually don’t say things like that, but you’re completely dazed and drunk off him that you don’t care.
Though his reaction wakes you from your trance, and you soon realize the weight of your words, making you recoil in his arms.
“Uh-uh,” he scolds you for trying to hide from him after all that, returning his hand to your ass and spanking you.
You gasp, clutching to his shoulders as he steps over the little mess of droplets on the floor. Leon lays you in a sea of sheets on the bed, and he doesn’t wait until your back hits the bed before he’s driving into you again. Such explicit whines fall from your lips, and his groans turn guttural and frequent as your sensitive pussy sucks him in. While embedding his cock into you, he maneuvers you into a position he wants you in. Sliding his palms up the bed, he pulls your legs up with his arms and plants his hands beside your ribs. Your legs are stretched out like your pussy is, allowing him absolute dominion over your body.
You go silent for a few seconds, turning your head away as his cock burrows itself inside of you at a different, more pleasurable angle. Encircling the expanse of his vast shoulders, your nails rake his skin into new scratches, and it only pushes him further into you. Tears fall past your temples as he planks his body above you, putting his delicious weight on you. Leaning into your neck, his grunts vividly hit your ear with each slam of his hips.
“My dirty girl,” he whispers in your ear, the plump of his lips pressing against the shell of it. “Wanting this old man to fuck you like he hates your guts.”
You squeal in delight from his words, the tension in your core already building as it had no time to dissipate from your last orgasm. The mattress shifts off the bed frame with every merciless blow to your body, Leon fucking you like a complete animal. He’s never done you like this before, and it’s destroyed your state of mind. Your hips begin to shrink into the mattress, wanting to get away from the stunning pleasure as it amounts to something so intense that it’s scary. Your face contorts, and your eyebrows furrow severely, your permanently open mouth gasping for air as another orgasm starts to blur your vision. You shift your gaze to his face, and the two of you maintain explicit eye contact. His fine, but aged features harden into a smoldering expression that makes your heart swoon.
“C’mon, baby, cum on daddy’s cock,” he thunders, voice cracking through the air, feeling your pussy constrict him in repeated pulses.
Your eyelashes flutter, and the world around you pauses, and you wail out. Sobbing as Leon fucks bliss into you, your pussy chokes his cock in unyielding convulsions. The ebb and flow washes over you like nirvana, splitting you into two and putting you back together again, leaving you changed. Leon lets out a groan that is damn near a moan, his cock spasming within your blistering walls.
“Fuck, I love you,” he roars, kissing you madly and sending a series of groans into your disjointed mouth.
Goosebumps prick his agitated body while torrents of semen spurt from his tip and through your cervix. You moan with delight, your womb accepting his seed with utter joy. Possessively, Leon pumps in and out of you, his swollen cock throbbing in tandem with his erratic pulse. His breath stutters across your lips, stubble grazing your mouth and chin as you milk every lost drop of him like you were made for him.
As your respective heart rates calm, the two of you are lost in each other’s eyes, swimming in the shared afterglow. He’s looking down at you with reverence, his messy hair curtaining around his face, tickling you. Leaking out of you in thick globs, his cum drops down his balls and onto the bed as he stays buried in your delightful pussy.
“Maybe I can get you to call me daddy next time,” he huffs, looking down at your body like it’s a work of art.
You sigh, panting with your breasts heaving under his gaze. “Whatever you say, daddy.”
Leon’s sharp eyes roll across your body and up to your face, and you feel him stiffen inside you.
“You keep that up, n’ I’ll put a baby in you.”
Your glossy eyes widen, and your heart rises to your throat, your pussy squeezing him.
“Leon,” you chide, your cheeks growing hot.
Chuckling, he leans down and presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Guess you’ll be my only baby for now.”
caleb being obsessed with how her pussy stretches over the thick, relentless shape of his cock.
he pushes it in midway, only to pull it out again to feel that tight ring pop around his fat tip. it makes his balls tighten and his shaft pump with blood, soft groans croaking from him each time he feels her swallow him in. he’s terribly fond of seeing her legs spread impossibly wide for him, calves folded onto the back of her thighs. he’ll smirk, muttering “you’d stay like this forever for me, wouldn’t you? just a pretty little hole for your brother to stick his dick into whenever he needs to get off…” and she’s just sobbing as he begins to pound into her ruthlessly, ashamed but still screaming out his name, chanting for him to keep going, ‘please don’t stop!’ and trust, he won’t. he doesn’t have to say it. she’s always been his to take, to consume. he’ll make sure of it, dumping his fat load over and over inside of her until he no longer can.
bonus: each time he creampies her, he pulls out to hear that pretty pussy release his cock, inspecting his work and demanding her to push so he can watch it dribble out. he’ll give it a sloppy kiss so he can taste himself, then smack her on the ass before shoving himself back in without warning and continuing his slaughter…
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The sterile quiet of Zayne's office is broken by the soft vibration of his phone in his pocket.
He glances at the screen, the tension in his shoulders fading just a fraction when he sees your name. His lunch break had just started, nearly an hour before his next surgery. He'd planned to spend it reviewing paperwork and preparing for the next operation, but you were always a welcome distraction. He taps the screen before bringing his phone to his ear.
"I didn't expect a call this early." He says, his voice dropping into something softer and deeper. Something he reserved only for you. "Is everything alright?"
"I just wanted to say I love you... and ask about your day." You murmur, though you can't help the way your voice cracks. You were at home, tangled with your sheets, absolutely soaked for no reason. It wasn't fair. You needed him and he just wasn't there.
Zayne freezes, his pen hovering over a patient's chart. He's spent years training his ears to catch the slightest irregularity in a heartbeat or a breath, and right now, yours is a chaotic rhythm. You sound fragile, your lungs working too hard for someone sitting at home.
"My day is manageable." He replies slowly, narrowing his eyes as he leans back in his chair. "But you sound breathy. Have you been busy?"
"No. I've just... been around the house." You whisper.
"You sound like you've run a marathon." He counters, his tone shifting from casual to clinical, though a sliver of concern cuts through. "Your heart rate sounds elevated just from the way you're speaking. Do you have a fever?"
"I'm fine, Zayne. Really." But you aren't. Your tone is desperate, needy, pitched higher than usual. Through the phone, he can hear the rustle of sheets as you squirm around restlessly, the ache between your thighs far too much for you to handle.
Zayne hums in response, completely unconvinced. He glances at the little calendar on his desk, noting the little red star he'd written in. He knows your cycle better than you do. He always tracks the data, the symptoms, the biological shifts. He's so in tune with your body that he can tell where you are in your cycle purely off of how you smell.
"Your period is ten days away. You're ovulating."
That's the breaking point. A frustrated, jagged sob escapes your throat, sounding so raw it makes his hand tighten around his phone. You're so stupidly horny that all you can focus on is him. You need him. You need his fingers, his mouth... his cock stretching you open.
"I tried everything. I took a cold shower, I tried to do chores. I used... I used my own damn fingers, Zayne. Nothing is working. It's not enough. It's not you." You cry out, squeezing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to try and alleviate that deep, needy ache.
Zayne's breath hitches, which only earns a quiet whimper from you. The thought of you at home, flushed and desperate, driven to tears by a biological ache only he is allowed to soothe, drives every professional thought from his mind. He imagines how wet you must be, how your cunt is likely clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.
His cock throbs in his trousers. He stands abruptly, crossing his office to the heavy wooden door. The click of the lock is loud in the silence, loud enough for you to hear on your end.
"Zayne?" You whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. You hear the rustle of his white doctor's coat, the way he lets out a slow, controlled breath.
"If it's me you want, then you're going to listen very closely to what I tell you to do next."
That immediately grabs your attention. You pull your phone away from your ear with a confused whimper, as if double checking that you did indeed call Zayne. It's unlike him to indulge in your needs while he's at work, but you are in no place to argue.
"Are you sure?" You ask him softly, your breath hitching quietly.
"I am entirely sure." Zayne mumurs, the sheer weight of his devotion heavy in his voice. There's no judgement. No annoyance. Only a deep, vibrating promise to give you exactly what you've been crying for. He sits back in his chair, his free hand coming up to remove his glasses. You hear the soft clatter as they hit the edge of his desk, then the soft rustle of fabric as he undoes the buttons of his jacket.
"Put me on speaker, sweetheart. I want your hands free."
You obey instantly, your hands trembling as you set your phone down on your pillow right next to your head. The distance between his Asko Hospital office and your bedroom feels like it's shrinking, and for a split second, you're so delirious with need that you can almost feel his gaze on you.
"Good girl." He praises, the words a warm caress that has you squirming against your sheets. "Now, lie back. Spread your legs for me, just as if I were there kneeling before you." Through the phone, he can hear you shifting around. The mental image of you spread and wanting has a low groan leaving him.
"Close your eyes. Visualize my hands." He continues, his own breath hitching quietly as his free hand moves to his trousers. You can hear the metal click of his belt as he undoes it, the quiet hiss of his zipper. "Two fingers. Touch yourself for me. Slowly. Your clit is aching so much, isn't it?"
You slide a hand down your body, dipping right between your thighs, a ragged gasp tearing from your throat as your fingers find your swollen clit. rubbing slow, light circles into that sensitive peak. Your hips buck against your hand, quiet, needy moans leaving you. It's so good, so much better than when you had been touching yourself without the sound of his voice.
Zayne's focus is fully directed towards you, long fingers of his free hand wrapping around his fat cock. Outside his office, he can hear the rustle of carts, nurses speaking to each other, but he doesn't care. You're his biggest distraction, one that he wouldn't change for the world. He strokes himself in time with your heavy breathing, his eyes momentarily closing as he imagines you obeying his commands.
"S'not enough, Zayne... More... Need more." You beg him, your voice a desperate, breathy whine that has his own breath leaving him in a rush.
"Push your fingers inside. Tell me how wet you are. Tell me how easily you stretch yourself open for me." He commands, his knuckles white as he grips his phone. His thumb brushes along the tip of his cock, smearing precum down the length of him as he strokes himself.
You're quick to do as he commands, sliding your fingers through your slick folds until they're soaked before slowly, you push into your cunt. It's not nearly the same as when he fingers you, not the same initial stretch, but it works just fine for you now that you can hear him on the other end of the phone.
"Fuck, Zayne... M'soaked." You tell him. Your velvety walls clench around your own fingers as you push deeper, grinding against the heel of your hand. It's almost too much for you to handle. Your free hand grasps the sheets, your head tilted towards your phone to ensure he can hear just how good you feel.
In his office, Zayne tilts his head back against his chair, his breath coming in short, heavy pants. He can hear the wet slide of your fingers as you pump them into your needy little cunt, the pathetic, desperate edge your moans have taken on. He knows the signs. You're close.
He wonders if you got yourself close before you decided to dial his number. A shudder runs through his body at the thought.
"When I get home, I'm going to stay so deep inside you that you won't even remember your own name." He says, his voice low, ruined, his own release sneaking up quickly. "I'll fuck you all night if that's what you need, sweetheart. Until you're so full of me that I drip out of you for days. Is that what you want?"
"Zayneee... M'gonnacumsohard, fuck-" His filthy tone has your body tensing, a loud, shattered cry leaving your mouth as you fall apart around your fingers. You squirm, your head thrashing against your pillows. Through your phone, you can hear Zayne let out a muffled groan, his breathing frantic before a ragged gasp leaves him.
You're both quiet for a long moment, breathing heavy, slowly trying to come down from the high your body had demanded. You slowly withdraw your fingers with a quiet, shaky sigh, your entire body limp against the sheets. You can picture him in your mind, the calm Doctor Zayne so undone and messy simply because you'd called.
The thought has a satisfied hum coming from you.
Zayne is the first to move. You hear the rustle of paper towels as he cleans himself up, the soft hitch of his breath as he tucks his cock back into his trousers, then the jingle of his belt being fixed.
"I expect you to be waiting for me just like that when I walk through the door. Don't move too much." He says, his voice impossibly soft and affectionate.
"I will." You whisper in response, rolling over onto your side as if being closer to the phone might help you to feel closer to him.
"I have a consult in ten minutes." He murmurs. "I love you. See you soon, sweetheart."
Then the line clicks dead, leaving you flushed and counting down the seconds until his shift ends.
"I've never done it even though I've attempted to multiple times." You sigh, slumping next to him on the couch. "In the end, all I could achieve was a cramped wrist and pruny fingers."
Zayne takes off his glasses and really looks at you. "I see."
"quite the dilemma you have there." He raises a brow, but more so at your lit up expression.
"This is only to satisfy my intellectual curiosity." You see zayne's lips quirk up.
"thanks to your last experiment, I'm well acquainted with that, my love." He looks oddly proud as he says that.
"I'm treating myself as a test subject to see whether countless articles, testimonials and... Ahem visuals were accurate."
"will you be publishing your study?" He plays along.
"focus, zayne. Besides I'll pay you handsomely." You attempt a corny wink. He laughs softly.
"seeing you gush on my fingers would be sufficient compensation."
--
"squirting and female ejaculation are two different phenomenon." his voice is buttery soft as his fingers glide over your slit, gathering your slick to spread it over your glistening lips.
"ngh—released from the skene's glands and urethr—ah! respectively." you manage, lifting your head to see the way his slender fingers disappear into your syrupy hole.
"Its commendable how well informed you are. however, I'd rather you lost your mind on my fingers right now, darling." with that, his digits hook up, rubbing the swollen spot inside you.
his thumb finds your clit, making your walls quiver and melt around him. Your brain is melting into a mush. He hasn't moved his fingers. He's just caressing your sweet spot intently.
a strange weight accumulates in your stomach each time he does it, making you squirm under him.
"zayne—i feel something here..." your palm comes to your lower tummy.
"good. we're making progress." he mumbles, leaning down to replace his thumb with his lips. he nips and sucks your clit, mouth opening to lick broad stripe over your pebbled nub.
his fingers stop moving. His wrist does instead. Fingers he keeps hooked tight, massaging your sweet spot with pin-point precision.
"focus on the anterior wall is key." he tells you, taking your clit back in his mouth for a deep suckle, making your thighs tremble with need. his fingers trickle up your skin, to your navel, planting kisses alongside his touches.
"a little pressure here..." The heel of his palm presses down on your lower stomach. gently at first, slowly growing. You nearly choke on a moan. "Do you feel it?"
Feel what? The way you want to pee? cum? Or both?
"oh-oh god!" your fingers find purchase in his hair as he scissors you open. you're sucking him in, spasming around him wildly.
His fingers jab your g spot. He can feel them against his palm. that alone has him pathetically leaking pre in his pants as he ruts himself against the mattress.
"this makes your g spot more accessible. Paired with the pressure on your anterior wall..." He emphasizes it with his arm moving up and down, prodding that spongy spot, making your pussy gurgle and squelch lewdly. the intensity grows. his entire arm works now, making you quake violently with every movement.
"oh shitshit-zaynee—" the heat in your stomach is growing, coiling—a little more and you'll snap so hard. the thought alone has you letting out a perverted laugh.
"zayne... I think I'm about to—" you're so perfectly fucked out right now.
"I can feel it." He murmurs, leaning down to kiss your thigh. "Relax your pelvic muscles."
"y-youre gonna get sprayed in your face—"
"perhaps I want that." he admits, mesmerized. "after all, the female ejaculate contains high amounts of glucose." whaat a fuckin perv
but that's all it takes to maul your restraint. you gush around him with a silent cry, spraying so hard that your back arches off the mattress. his fingers keep going. rightly so because something else approaches. that familiar coil in your stomach.
mother of all things good. are you cumming? you see white before you can ruminate on it further. he groans in delight, mouth latching on to your creaming pussy. it makes you squeal in overstimulation.
when he finally lifts his face, licking your cream off his fingers—you see it—face dripping wet and dazed.
zayne never refuses to assist your research after that.
“the cut isn’t at risk for tetanus. However,” he releases your thumb with a quiet exhale. “it does suggest I should dull the knives at home.”
zayne opens a drawer to retrieve a fresh bandage, and wraps it neatly over your wounded finger. The cut is small but gnarly. you’d mishandled the knife.
“sit here while I prepare it. One can never be too cautious.” He turns around. “refrain from touching anything sharp without my supervision.” You see his cheek lift. You’d roll your eyes had you not been nervous.
okay. it's not like you were going to bolt. You just… need to face it properly.
“i’ll take the shot,” you say quickly. “but it’s not the needle. it’s the anticipation. I tense up and it hurts more than it needs to.” you grimace at the reminiscence.
“what if,” you continue, warming to the idea, “we pavlov my brain to associate injections with something… good. an amazing, earthshattering-ly good feeling."
he follows through the first half of your proposal. the next half just earns an exasperated sigh and a pinch to the bridge of his nose as he mumbles an "...alright."
--
you're straddling zayne, softly grinding against him as his tongue sweeps over you bottom lip before you suck it back into your mouth. "where would you like to take the shot?" he asks, pulling away.
"i have options?" you grip his chin to pull him back against your lips. his hand comes up to your arm, kneading the flesh of your upper arm.
"here..." his other hand glides down, tracing the curve of your waist to settle on the side of your hip. "or here?"
"not the arm," you decide. "i can see it."
"alright then. turn around." a small smile forms on zayne's lips.
--
his hard cock slips between your folds. you rub your slick clit against it, making a mess all over his pretty pink tip, both your juices mingling together.
his lips are on the back of your neck and hands kneading your tits. you twist to grant him access, hooking an arm around his neck to bring your nipple to his mouth.
"zayneee..." he eagerly sucks it in. deep, slow suckles make your toes curl. "i'm putting it in." you tell him. your cunt flutters at the mere thought of him filling you up.
"as you please,"
you finally plug yourself full of his dick, making him groan. he releases your nipple and leans back.
his hands find your waist, grinding up into your gooey walls that so eagerly pulsate to suck him in deeper, making him reach the puffy rim of your womb. "you keep-mmhh-pulling me in you." he sighs.
his palm flattens on your back, pushing you to lean forward, arching on his cock. your fingers come to your clit, tickling it gently, coaxing your cunt to spasm happily around his thick length.
behind you, plastic tears. a thrill shoots down your spine. your clit jumps under your fingers.
"nghh-my love," he groans. "are you certain you're afraid and not aroused by this?"
zayne grips your hips, stilling your movements. "stay still, now." his voice is lowered to a gentle whisper.
the sultry words distract you from the sharp smell of antiseptic and the cold rub of cotton. you almost cum there and then. god. are you really enjoying this?
"you're tightening. am i to assume these are merely your nerves acting up?" he murmurs, caressing your back gently while your finger works your sensitive clit. you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from grinding on his cock that twitches inside you. the stretch is maddening. you can feel him so dee-
a sharp biting pain blooms in your side, making you bite back a whimper.
"there… keep rubbing your clit. you're close, aren't you?" zayne pulls your thoughts away from the needle. yes, goodness, yes you're so wonderfully close. your finger rubs tighter, insistent circles on that nub. just a little more and you-
the pain dissolves into static as you reach your high, clamping down on him as you ride the wave of your orgasm with a silent scream.
part 1 of the FOR SCIENCE series
once he disposes of the syringe, you tug him back to bed. "did you think i'd let you go without finishing?"
synopsis :☆: you take "experimenting in bed" a little too literally. surely, zayne will indulge you, no?
cw :☆: NSFW content. minors, scram. overstimulation, squirting, multiple rounds, creampie, questionable medical logic, injections, potentially inaccurate medical facts. (these drabbles started as crack. so please take em w a grain of salt :p)
nya's note :☆: 3k special. first time doing something like this (fuckin finally tho).
ok, i digress. i'm so incredibly grateful to all of you for helping me get here. thank you for all the love you've shown my writing. i appreciate every single one of you<3
psst btw this special isnt limited to my ideas. feel free to send reqs! The series will be running throughout June.
ENTRY 01 : taking a shot while zayne fucks you
“i’ll take the shot,” you say quickly. “but it’s not the needle. it’s the anticipation. I tense up and it hurts more than it needs to.” you grimace at the reminiscence.
“what if,” you continue, warming to the idea, “we pavlov my brain to associate injections with something… good. an amazing, earthshattering-ly good feeling."
he follows through the first half of your proposal. the next half just earns an exasperated sigh and a pinch to the bridge of his nose as he mumbles an "...alright."
ENTRY 02 : asking zayne to make you squirt
"I'm sorry?" The book in his hand is long forgotten and his ears are tinted pink. What were you thinking asking that to your medical prodigy husband? nothing, really. this is what you wanted.
"I've never done it even though I've attempted to multiple times." You sigh, slumping next to him on the couch. He shifts in his place, immediately stiffening at your presence. "In the end, all I could achieve was a cramped wrist and pruny fingers."
ENTRY 03 : how many times can zayne cum?
"women don't have a refractory period after orgasm. which would imply that there isn't an established maximum number of orgasms a woman can have in one session."
“is this a new line of inquiry?” he asks calmly. “an attempt to determine how many times you can finish in a single session?” his arms curl around you.
"why pursue established data?" you quip. “we’ll keep count,” you say simply. “until you reach your limit.”
“i see.” he swallows once. “in that case—your test subject can only surrender.”
ENTRY 04 : zayne refuses to touch your clit
"approximately 25% women can climax solely from penetration. would you like to find out if you fall in the category?"
the shy rub of his neck at the suggestion was deceptive and his idea was in the very least--spontaneous. because now that hes got you splayed out beneath him, soft body completely under his command, you know he's rarely ever impulsive.
summary: you come back from a mission with leon, furious at how reckless he was, and you spend the next hour following him around headquarters yelling at him. but leon isn’t really listening to the anger—he’s watching how you won’t let him out of your sight, and slowly realizes it was never just anger.
pairings: leon kennedy x reader
RIN'S NOTE: I first came across this idea on tiktok. Her account is @/oglexistar, and I love her sm. She is hilarious. She has a lot going on with her content, so you guys should follow her. While watching this video, all I can think about is Leon, even though her idea is supposed to be Gojo from JJK which is also making me giggle about it too hehe. I hope it was fun for all of you!
【 WC 1.66k 】
The mission had been over for almost an hour.
Unfortunately, your anger had not.
"You are unbelievable."
Leon didn't even look up.
The man had the audacity to be sitting at a workbench in the armory, calmly disassembling his handgun while you followed him around headquarters like an extremely angry shadow.
"You drove a motorcycle through a second-story window."
A click. A magazine dropped into his hand.
"It worked."
"It was insane."
"It was effective."
You stared at the side of his head. Leon Kennedy, apparently, had chosen today to be the most irritating man alive.
"You know what?" you continued. "I don't even know why I bother arguing with you."
"That's a good question."
Your eye twitched. Across the room, another agent wisely decided to leave. Coward.
Leon continued cleaning his weapon as if you weren't standing there mentally preparing several crimes.
The worst part?
He wasn't even trying to defend himself. That somehow made it worse.
"You almost got yourself killed."
"Didn't."
"That's not the point."
"Hm."
That stupid sound. That stupid, knowing sound. You pointed at him immediately.
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"That."
"Very specific."
"Oh my God."
Leon chuckled under his breath. You wanted to throw something at him. Instead, you followed him when he stood. Of course you did.
He moved from the armory to the hallway.
You followed.
“What you did on the mission is unbelievable!”
Then the break room.
You followed.
“How can you be so chill about this?!”
Then his office.
You followed.
“How can you be such a stupid bastard?!”
At this point, it had become less of an argument and more of a lifestyle.
"You know," Leon said as he walked, "most people celebrate after successful missions."
"We almost died."
"We didn't."
"That's not helping."
"It should."
"It doesn't."
Leon opened his office door and let's you in first as he step aside while you keep throwing curses at him.
You marched right past him. Still talking. Still irritated.
Still completely unaware that he was watching you more than he was listening.
You didn't even notice that he open the door for you first before he follows you inside. A gentleman, truly. The door clicked shut behind him.
"You jumped off a moving vehicle."
"You would've complained if I stayed on it."
"I would've preferred that over watching you launch yourself into traffic."
Leon dropped a folder onto his desk. Then your gun beside it. Cleaned. Maintained. Already put back together.
You hadn't even realized he'd taken it from you earlier.
"You're impossible."
"Probably."
"You never think."
"I do."
"No, you don't."
"I thought about jumping through the window."
"That is the problem!"
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
You hated that grin. Mostly because it always made him look unfairly handsome.
You continued pacing. Around the desk. Past the bookshelf. Back toward the door.
Still talking. Still venting. Still going.
Leon watched for another minute before finally sighing. Long. Patient.
The kind of sigh a man released when he'd finally figured something out.
"Are you done barking, baby?"
The room went silent. You froze mid-step. Slowly. Very slowly. You turned toward him.
"...Excuse me?"
Leon leaned back against his desk. Completely unbothered.
"I was just asking."
"You were just asking?"
"Yeah.”
Your jaw dropped. "What the hell are you talking about?" His expression remained infuriatingly calm.
"I asked a question."
"You called me a dog."
"No."
"Leon."
"I asked if my woman was done barking."
Your brain briefly stopped functioning.
"Your—"
"Yep."
"That is not the issue right now."
"Sure."
"Don't change the subject."
"I'm not."
"We almost failed the mission because of you!"
"And we also completed the mission because of me."
"You son of a—"
The insult died instantly.
Because suddenly Leon was standing right in front of you. One moment he'd been leaning against the desk. The next he'd crossed the room. Close enough that you forgot the rest of your sentence. Close enough that your heart immediately became uncooperative.
The bastard noticed. Of course he noticed.
He noticed everything.
"What's really the problem?"
His voice had changed. Less teasing. Less sarcasm. Still calm. Still steady.
But now there was something underneath it. Something that made it impossible to keep talking in circles.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the fact that you've followed me around headquarters for the last hour."
You folded your arms. Defensive. Leon immediately clocked it.
"I was making a point."
"Hm."
"There you go again."
"Baby."
You groaned. "Don't baby me."
"Sweetheart."
"Worse." A faint smile appeared. Mission accomplished. Then it disappeared just as quickly.
"You checked on me in the armory."
You frowned.
"I was getting my equipment."
"You checked on me in the break room."
"You were making coffee."
"You checked on me in the hallway."
Your jaw tightened. Leon tilted his head slightly. The look in his eyes softened. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough for you to notice. And that somehow made everything worse.
Leon didn’t move away. That was the problem. He stayed right there.
Too close. Too calm. Too aware of everything happening inside your head like it was written on your face.
“You’re not angry,” he said again, quieter this time.
“I am.”
“No.”
You huffed. “I literally just spent an hour yelling at you.”
Leon’s eyes flickered briefly over your face. Like he was studying you. Not in a tactical way. Not like a mission.
In a way that made it impossible to keep your thoughts straight.
“That wasn’t anger,” he said.
You scoffed. “Oh? Then what was it?”
A pause. Then, casually—
“Panic.”
Your breath caught. You immediately hated that word. Hated how easily he said it. Hated that it was correct.
“I don’t panic,” you muttered.
Leon hummed. That low sound again. The one that always made your patience snap.
“You do when I disappear from your sight for more than ten seconds.”
“I was not—”
“You were counting.”
Silence. You froze. Leon tilted his head slightly.
“Armory. Hallway. Break room. Office.”
His voice stayed calm. Unbothered.
“Every time I turned around, you were still there.” Your jaw tightened. “That’s because I was still talking to you.”
“Mhm.”
He stepped half a pace closer. Not enough to trap you. Just enough that your brain stopped cooperating again.
“And every time I stopped talking,” he added, quieter, “you got closer.”
Your heart did something extremely inconvenient.
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
A beat. Then, softer.
“Baby.”
That did it. You exhaled sharply.
“Stop calling me that when I’m mad at you.” Leon’s mouth curved slightly.
“I’m not sure you are.”
Your glare should’ve been lethal. It wasn’t. Because he looked entirely too composed.
Too confident. Like he already knew how this ended. “You’re enjoying this,” you accused.
“Maybe.”
“Leon.”
He leaned slightly against the edge of his desk now. Completely relaxed. Completely unfair.
“I like when you talk to me,” he said. That alone made your brain short-circuit.
“…That’s not what I’m doing.”
“It is.”
“No, I’m— I’m yelling at you.”
“Same thing.”
Your eyes widened. “That is absolutely not the same thing.” Leon’s gaze dropped briefly to your mouth. So quick you almost thought you imagined it. Almost.
Then he looked back at your eyes. And your entire argument collapsed a little.
“…You’re insufferable,” you muttered.
“Mm.”
A pause. Then he added, casually.
“But you’re still standing here.”
Your breath hitched slightly. Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? You could’ve left.
You could’ve stormed out of his office. You didn’t. You stayed.
“You always do that,” he said quietly.
“Do what?”
“Follow me.”
You scoffed. “I do not follow you.”
Leon raised an eyebrow. The look said really?
You opened your mouth. Closed it again. Because unfortunately. He was right. Again.
Leon pushed off the desk slightly.
Now he was closer. Properly close. His voice dropped just enough to make it harder to think.
“Say it then.” Your brows furrowed. “Say what?”
“That you’re just mad.”
A beat.
“And not something else.”
Your throat tightened. You hated him. You really did. Because he was looking at you like he already knew the answer.
Like he was just waiting for you to admit it out loud.
“You’re ridiculous,” you said instead. Leon smiled faintly. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Mm.”
Another step closer. Now there was barely any space left between you. Not enough to back away without it being obvious.
Not enough to breathe properly.
“You know,” he said, voice lower now, “if this is your way of getting my attention…”
“I don’t need your attention.”
That came out too fast. Too sharp. Leon’s smile widened slightly.
“Oh?”
Your silence betrayed you. He noticed immediately. Of course he did. His hand lifted again. Not to touch you fully.
Just enough to adjust your collar. Slow. Deliberate.
Like he had all the time in the world.
“You’ve had it all day, sweetheart.”
Your stomach flipped. Again. Annoyingly.
“And you still followed me around,” he added softly. You glared at him. Weakly.
“That’s not—”
Leon leaned in just slightly. Not enough to kiss you. Not enough to cross the line.
Just enough that his voice brushed against you when he spoke.
“You gonna keep pretending you’re just angry?”
Your breath caught again. Because now he was definitely enjoying this. Absolutely. There was no way he wasn’t.
“Leon…”
“Yeah?”
The way he said your name this time was worse than the pet names. Because it wasn’t teasing.
It was patient. Like he was waiting you out.
Like he knew you’d fold. And worst of all?
He was right. So damn right.
You looked up at him again. And for a second, you forgot what you were even supposed to be mad about.
Which, unfortunately, seemed to be the entire point.
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Being in a relationship with both a brat tamer and a brat maker is its own special kind of hell.
Zayne goes away for work and for the whole time he's away Caleb spoils you rotten, knowing that on his return you'll be needy and demanding - something that Zayne absolutely does not tolerate for long.
A pout and a stomped foot at not getting your way and you'll be over Zayne's knee in the blink of an eye, ass red and on fire. And all the while Caleb will be sat watching your punishment with a smug smirk as he tugs at his cock, precum leaking out at the sound of your whining and whimpering.
But Zayne is no better. He watches Caleb give into your every whim, creating the spoiled brat that he loves to tame. He could stop him, or at the very least warn you that if your behaviour continues there'll be consequences.
Yet he stays silent, waits until you lower your guard and forget that Zayne is most definitely not Caleb. He denies you something simple - perhaps a dessert or a new plushie to add to your ever growing collection - anything really. Anything to get you to have one of your little tantrums.
And once he hears that oh so familiar whine of Zaaaaynnee leave your lips he knows you're ready to be put back in your place.
Usually it's with a firm hand on your behind, underwear pulled down and ass on full display, until you go limp and pliant over his lap. Sometimes it's by tying you to the bed and teasing your poor little clit with a vibrator until tears are forming in your eyes.
But if he's feeling extra cruel he'll have Caleb fuck you at the same time. Zayne will stand quietly at the side, cock straining against his trousers, as he holds a wand to your sensitive cunt, and simply listens as Caleb coos at you with that false sympathy he saves just for these occasions. Maybe he lets you come, maybe he doesn't.
They play off of each other; Caleb spoils you and Zayne reins you back in. Yes, you quickly learnt that your two boyfriends love to work together. And no, you wouldn't change a thing.
⭑.ᐟ #SYNOPSIS who knew you could cum so hard that you end up squirting!
⭑.ᐟ #GENRE smut, porn with no plot
⭑.ᐟ #INCLUDES Zayne, Caleb (seperated)
⭑.ᐟ #CONTENT WARNING fem!reader | explicit content | no guaranteed spoilers of main/side quests | established relationship | possible grammar errors | not proof read | squirting | fingering | pet names | mention of overstimulation | toy use (dildo) | oral (fem) | authors note at end
ZAYNE
You are twitching, jolting, and shivering lightly from the overwhelming stimulation fed to your body, mind completely muffled and blank— no coherent thoughts or sentences, just moans of Zayne’s name leave your kiss-swollen lips. There’s a gentle, warm breath fanning directly onto your exposed chest; skin coated in spit and bite marks, nipples perky, puffy, and swollen from the constant attention they have gotten. Once in a while, warm lips would wrap around the glistening bud, nursing at it, sucking into your back arches off the bed mindlessly. . bucking your hips widely.
There are two thick fingers sliding through your sopping, fat folds— dragging up and down, fingers smearing your syrupy juices all over your messy pussy. One finger gently teases your quivering entrance, barely dipping in before dragging your arousal back to your aching clit. . rolling the bud in circles until you gasp in delight. You tangle your hands in Zayne’s hair, holding and tugging onto the strands in ecstasy.
“Nghhh—! Haaah, a- stop teasing meee, Zaynie’. . I-i need moree!” You drool out from your stupor, whimpering when he suckles harder onto your nipple. . moaning softly to send vibrations through your body.
Your body reacts wonderfully to Zayne’s touch, it’s becoming increasingly harder to deny you that sweet pleasure you desire when you beg so unapologetically to your husband. Two slender fingers pressed against your hole, plunging to hilt of your pussy with a welt squealchh— stretching your walls sooo perfectly it has you choking on a moan. You gasp on his name, toes curling up, shivering helplessly from that burning pleasure.
He groans against your chest, finally releasing your nipples— teasing the bud by gently nibbling until you squeal. Instead, he roughly drags his tongue against your nipple, to the valley between your mounds, then to your other breast— giving it that same sweet treatment. Zayne’s fingers reaches soo deep, curling and slamming into your velvety walls with an obscure sloshh of your wet cunt.
The inside of Zayne’s hand slaps meanly into your puffy clit with every thrust of his fingers back into your greedy warmth, sending delightful shocks of pleasure through your already exhausted body. You can barely keep up, melting into the sheets as he explores your cunt— fingers somehow pressing deeper into your gooey walls, your arousal coating the base of his digits.
“Mmh. . doing soo perfectly for me, sweetheart” Zayne murmurs against your chest, foggy glasses pressing into your skin as he tilts his head for a better angle to lap and drag his tongue against your nipple.
You whine in response, gasping loudly when the temperature of his skin seems to drop too quickly. Synchronized, goosebumps erupts all over your body, shivering from his cool touch. One of Zayne’s hands presses hard onto your belly, fingers still positioning deep into your drooling hole.
Through scrunched up eyes, you can barely see Zayne peering up at you with lust and hungry filled eyes. He gazes at your body, drinking up every single once of your reactions to his touch; twitching, jumping, shaky breaths, he’s remembering every single one. He perfectly curls his fingers until he presses against your g-spot, the hand off your plush belly pressing harder as he thrusts his fingers into your spasming hole.
“Haah—! O-oh fuck! Nngh. . fe- feels toooo good!” You wail out, eyes rolling back as your back arches once again.
That subtle heat in your lower belly is now bold and loud, you’re sooo close to cumming. It’s just that, this feels more intense and hotter than you expected. Your skin feels more heated and stimulated.
“Mmhp—! Z- Zayne!” You squeal out, hands tugging at his hair as he groans from the tiny pain.
Your velvety walls quiver and tighten around his fingers, sucking him deeper as he miraculously keeps his same pace— a medium pace but he presses deeper into your pussy with every thrust. You can barely string words together, squealing in ecstasy when that boiling, white hot pleasure explodes in your belly. Your juices squirt from your sopping pussy, the liquid spraying onto Zayne’s arm and hands.
It’s messy, your whimpering and tears are dripping from your eyes, hips jolting and shaking from how intense your orgasm was. Zayne didn’t seem to mind, eyes shut as he enjoys the way your nipples jolt against his tongue— fingers still steady fucking into your sloppy hole.
By time you ride your orgasm, Zayne is dragging his tongue against your heated skin until he reaches your dripping and glistening pussy.
“Mmh? N- no! P- please, I can’t handle it —nghh!” You mumble out barely coherent words, intensely trembling when he drags his tongue through your syrupy folds.
“Just let me clean you up, my beloved” he murmurs against your fat pussy lips, tongue dragging from your hole to your twitching clit— suckling onto the nerve until you squirm.
CALEB
Your breathing is completely erotic and ragged, it’s becoming awfully hard to breathe when the pleasure is overwhelming. You’re twitching and shivering in ecstasy; your body is burning hot, slick and glistening from sweat, lower belly stained by your own juices. It’s not just the pleasure that’s making it hard to breathe, it’s from Caleb— pistoning a thick dildo, molded after his cock, to ram deep into your raw cunt with an obscure squealchh.
“Hnng—! I. . fu- fuckk!” You gasp out between breathless moans, back arching off the bed every time the dildo kisses at your g-spot.
The toy can easily press into your most sensitive spots, just like Caleb can, it’s delicious the way it stretches out your velvety walls. Your thighs tremble violently, walls spasming and quivering around the toy— sobbing out your boyfriend’s name when he engulfs your clit in his hungry mouth, suckling onto the puffy bud. He drags his tongue against the engorged hood, smearing his tongue against your clit in a slow manner. . up and down.
The dildo was fucking deeper into you now, relentless, each push of the toy was aimed directly at that spot inside you that made your toes curl and your vision blur— eliciting breathless sobs from your swollen lips. Caleb’s lips wrap around your poor clit, sucking hard. You let out a broken yelp of his name, Caleb, eyes rolling back so far as his tongue flicks at the hood of the engorged bud.
The pleasure is becoming too much for your poor, overwhelmed body to handle. Being so thoroughly filled by a thick dildo while your clit was being suckled and lapped at by a rough tongue; your kind counselor focused on anything beside Caleb and how he’s making you feel sooo good.
“Haaah—! F- feels too good, ngh!” You squeal out loudly, hips bucking widely at the pleasure.
“Mmhp—! Ca- Caleb!” You whine out, tears clinging to the corner of your eyes.
Caleb drags his tongue firmly against the swollen flesh of your bud, sneaking his spit all over your messy pussy. He’s loud, groaning, moaning, and whining into your pussy— the vibrations coursing through your body, eliciting a sob from you.
“Haah. . mmh? Yes?” Caleb hums out in response to you whimpering out his name, his warm breath fanning onto your exposed clit— there’s a pleasurable wave of heat that pools down to your cunt, arousal gushing around the toy.
He suckles back onto your clit, the non-stop attention he gives you is enough to have you squirming and writhing from the pleasure. Your clit, swollen, buzzing, and glistening from arousal, is throbbing in pleasure when Caleb drags his tongue against the bud over and over. It’s like he can’t keep his mouth unoccupied for too long, he needs to keep his mouth against your pussy.
“Nngh—! O- oh fuckkk. .” You wail out loudly, velvety walls tightening around the didlo— juices pooling at the base of the toy.
It’s messy. The wet squealch of your sopping pussy, the obscure slurping sound of Caleb lapping at your clit like his life depended on it. That heat in your lower belly is warm, it has you violently shivering in ecstasy.
And Caleb, he’s just as messy; unapologetically loud when slurping at your puffy clit. That slurping sounds, squelching, and muffled moans, groans, and grunts against your mound is loud. Once again, he
hums against your pussy, suckling and lapping at your cunt like his life depends on it, shamelessly moaning your poor, buzzing clit.
“I ne- need more of you. . give me mo-more. .—“ he murmurs against your clit, one of his hands digging greedily into the fat of your thighs to push you open wider— simultaneously forcing your fat folds to part.
“Haah. . nngh, w- wanna cumm” you drool out, rolling your head back to lay against the pillow.
Your hips are relentless, bucking and squirming from him. Yet, Caleb pays no mind to it, he’s too big lewdly and erotically lapping at whatever sensitive skin of yours he can. Perhaps he’s gone completely drunk at how sweet you are— sweet, you taste just like how he imagined you would.
That thick toy, pressing deep and roughly into your g-spot, has you choking on air. And with a loud cry of Caleb’s name, your gooey walls clamp down tightly around the dildo, your juices spraying from your stuffy hole.
“Oooh-! Fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. .” You babble over words, incoherent as white, hot heat was all you could see.
The bed is completely soaked in your sticky juices, some of your juices managed to land onto your lower stomach. And yet, he still gently presses the toy back into your drooling hole, slowly plunging in and out.
“Wahh—! O- oh fuck. . Caleb. shit. . can’t—“ is all that you can say, words dying at the tip of your tongue when he suckles roughly onto your clit.
“C’mon, baby. . one more time! Wanna see you squirt like that again. .” Caleb gulps, eyes completely blown out in pleasure.
⭑.ᐟ # All work belongs to only ME, jadestone2. Translating, plagiarism, copying, posting on another website, claiming as your work will NOT be tolerated, instant block („• ֊ •„)
♯┆AUTHOR NOTE .ᐟ ★ Finally, I got the chance to write for at least two characters, sorry for the late post! Anyways, I’ll be working hard for my next WIP, Royal bedding<33
