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stargirlygirl · 3 days ago

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your first time with caleb (he's a sex worker)

sex worker/of model!caleb x (not so)virgin!fem!reader

⭑.ᐟ part two ⟶ part one

summary: the morning after your night together and until the end of his stay in your hometown

contains: nsfw, smut, angst, hurt comfort, unprotected sex (he's had a vasectomy, but it's not 100% as a contraceptive method fyi), m!masturbation (live streamed), caleb begs at your feet, implied size difference, 6.7k words

heavily inspired by @heartyluv's camboy!caleb series + inspiration also taken from @madamechrissy's baby, you're a star series

Sunlight streams into your bedroom, illuminating the sleeping figures curled up on your bed. Your face is smushed into your pillow; you can feel it as your eyes scrunch before fluttering open. You swear there’s a heater strapped to your back.

But wait!

Turning your head, memories of last night come rushing forward. They flood your mind and threaten to drown you as you take a shaky breath in.

Caleb Xia. OF model and sex worker. The man you’ve had a parasocial crush on for years. Y’all did the dirty n squirty… Y’all did the dirty n squirty! Somebody get you a cake because it’s time to celebrate!

You could scream with how ecstatic you are right now. But you opt to remain quiet and pretend that you’re sleeping, anything to make this moment last a while longer. However, it’s like Caleb’s sleep routine is tied to yours, because as soon as you shift in his firm hold, he’s groaning and nuzzling his fuckable nose into your shoulder. Either that, or he’s a light sleeper. Likely the latter, you suppose.

You don’t mean to wriggle, but he’s grasping you so damn tight. In doing so, you press your ass back into his hips—unintentionally, of course—and feel his… morning wood.

“Keep doing that, pipsqueak. I dare you.” Pipsqueak, what a fitting pet name, because you quite literally squeak at hearing his husky voice utter such words into your skin. He chuckles warmly, the sound deep in his belly as he tightens his hold on you.

“Caleeeeeb,” you whine, rocking and bumping into his erection again.

His sigh gets caught in his throat, somewhere between a huff and a moan as he says, “You’re just tryin’ to rile me up, aren’t you?” You shake your head slightly, denying his claim, but in reality, you have no idea what you’re doing. What does one do with another after sharing such a passionate night? You grow quiet as you think it over.

Like Caleb can sense your overthinking, he mumbles, “All quiet now, hmm? Wanna share?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, considering his offer. Heat rises to your cheeks as you entertain your next course of action. Maybe it’s embarrassing asking your… partner? Paid lover? Provider of the best sex you’ve only ever had? What to do in this situation, but he must have done this dozens of times before.

You convince yourself to remember that as you ask nervously, “What happens now? Like, is there a certain routine or?” Caleb’s large hand presses against your side, pushing your back flat against the mattress so he can get a glimpse of his precious girl client. Those violets are soft as they gaze at you, roaming over the dark love bites trailing up your neck before settling on your eyes. Your chest rises steadily, but your heart thumps quickly.

He slowly grins, “We can do whatever you like, honey. Usually, we’ll have breakfast and chat about last night before splitting up. How does that sound?” You nod while reaching up and cupping his freckled cheeks. He sighs into your touch and places his hand next to your head.

Leaning down, Caleb captures your lips in a sweet kiss. It’s leisurely and almost loving, both of you orienting yourselves in this new space. You can taste his morning breath, and you’re positive he can taste yours. But neither of you cares as he hovers over you. Your hands thread in his hair, silky locks between your fingers as his tongue slips against yours.

Now you care.

Pulling back, you cringe, “Caleb, ew! Go brush your teeth or something!”

“Puh-lease, your breath is waaaaaayyy worse than mine,” he teases while rolling his eyes playfully.

“Ugh! Just don’t kiss me until you’ve brushed, okay?” You grumble.

Caleb smirks, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, pips.” Closing the gap between you again, he kisses your forehead tenderly. You hum softly as he maneuvers you back onto your side with his arms slung around your waist.

“So, are we gonna get up now?” You ask curiously. He laughs all breathily in your ear while those meaty arms squeeze you firmly.

Kissing your earlobe, you can hear his smile as he says, “Don’t you wanna stay in bed for a little longer?” Those plump lips leave searing kisses across your jaw and on the side of your neck.

He murmurs into your purple flesh, “We could even fool around if you want. Do you want to, pretty girl?” Your breath hitches momentarily. An encore?! How can you refuse?

“Just for a bit,” you answer, shuffling your hips back until they’re flush against Caleb’s. Sleep lingers in your limbs, making you sigh as he paws at your tummy before sliding his hands up. His palms cover your nipples, and he squishes your breasts. Yanking at the lacy bralette you’ve got on, your tits spill out (a miracle given they didn’t do so in the middle of the night), and his fingers latch onto your sensitive nipples.

He rolls them between his fingertips, sending jolts of pleasure down to your panty-clad cunt. Moaning quietly, you nudge your hips into Caleb’s hard length. It twitches in his boxers, pre-cum leaking out and creating a wet patch on the fabric. His mouth traces your upper arms and bites at the fat gently. Meanwhile, you’ve got one hand beneath your pillow and the other is clutching his forearm as he plays with your breasts.

“Do you wanna keep it here, honey? Or go further?” He moans in your ear as his hips buck against your ass.

“Further,” you breathe out. Your thighs clench, slick pooling in your lace panties and making a mess of them.

He instructs, “Can you pass me an extra pillow, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you hum while leaning over and grabbing another pillow. Handing it to Caleb, he props your top knee on it. With that added accessibility, his hand slips down to your soaking panties. He palms you through them, groaning at how wet you’ve gotten (like he’s any better).

“F-fuck,” you moan, your head tipping back as his fingertips dance over your clit. Caleb smooches your forehead while dragging his fingers up your clothed slit. It’s cruel how he permits this barrier to stay between you. Almost like he’s trying to make you beg for it. Shame has left your conscience since you two met, and you’re not going to let it return and ruin this moment.

“Please,” you whimper. “Please touch me, Caleb.”

He chuckles, but it’s strained, “I am touching you, pips—”

“Please! You know what I mean, babe,” you whine.

“Alright, alright, honey,” he grins cockily. Caleb’s finger hooks around your panties, right where you’re drooling for him. He groans upon feeling your slick. Keeping you stable with his other arm, he pulls your underwear down just enough. His fingertips flit up to your drenched pussy, and dip between your folds. You both moan as your wetness fully soaks his fingers like torrential rain.

He rasps in your ear, “Eager, huh?”

“Mhmm—Shut up, Caleb,” you moan. He kisses the tip of your shoulder as his fingers swipe through your slit and start circling your clit. Pleasure sparks in your body, and your toes curl as he rubs your bud faster. Unable to bear the lack of friction for any longer, Caleb pushes his clothed, stiff cock into your behind and ruts his hips into you rhythmically.

Your combined moans fill the sunlit bedroom, your neighbours likely groaning as they hear you two at it again. Birds chirping from outside fall on deaf ears, and the lewd squelching of your cunt pours forth.

He whimpers, “Can I finger you?”

“Hah—Yes!” You respond breathily while squeezing your eyes shut. The ecstasy wracks through your body, scorching hot as a long finger slowly sinks into your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! Yeah, baby,” you moan as the pad of his finger presses into your gummy walls. He slides it down and repeats the motion as his other hand shifts up to your mouth.

He exhales, “Open up f’me, honey.” Parting your lips, his other fingers slip in.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he coos. Your tongue circles them readily, your moans muffled around his digits before he takes them out. Then, Caleb starts rubbing your clit with his newly soaked fingers. He’s still pumping in and out of your cunt, intensifying the pleasure shooting throughout your body.

Your moans sound like they came straight out of one of his collabs. They’re unrestrained and loud; pornographic.

Pressure builds in your tummy, far too fast, in your opinion. Caleb can feel it in how your thighs threaten to clamp around his hands.

“You gonna cum, pips?” He moans in your ear while his hips buck into you.

A guttural moan tears through you, lost in the haze as you mewl, “Please, Caleb! I—Ah!—want you to fuck me—Mhmm!” He slows his ministrations to a stop and pulls his drenched finger out of your cunt. His boxers make that familiar sound as they’re pulled down his toned thighs. Your back arches as the head of his fat cock pushes through your folds, moans tumbling from your mouth. But then he stops.

“Fuck, pips!—”

“Caleb!” You whine.

“I know, I know, ‘m sorry, baby. Fuck, do we have any condoms left?” He asks frantically. His tip falls from your drooling cunt as he scours the bed and side table for the box of condoms you two were using last night.

You mumble, “’Course we don’t. What loser only brings a 20-pack to a pre-planned fuckfest?” The rustling stops.

Caleb groans, “Fuuuuuck.” He’s almost tearing up as his eyes rove over you, your ass all plush and pushed up, and your pussy glistening in the morning light. You’re getting bolder, too. It makes his throat tighten at the harsh reality that he won’t be able to bury himself in your snug walls one last time.

“Can’t you just fuck me anyway?” You ask with your cheek squashed into your pillow, condensing the suggestion. But Caleb heard you clear as day. He hisses as more pre seeps out of his tip, images running through his mind of sliding inside and fucking you till you’re breathless and begging for more.

But he needs to be responsible. Caleb mustn’t take advantage of you in your lustful daze.

“Please. It’s not like I’ll get pregnant. Please, Caleb?” You whine, wiggling your hips as your arousal drips down your inner thighs. His resolve? Shattered as he comes scampering back to you. Enveloping you in his warmth, he returns to rubbing your wet folds with his hard cock.

Caleb reassures himself you, “I’ll just pull out, okay?”

You murmur, “Why bother? Not like it’s an effective method of contraception. Thought you’d know that.” The head of his cock pushes inside, ripping another sensual moan from you.

“You always this sassy in the morning?” He groans against your ear.

“Always,” you breathe out. You shift your hips back, sucking in his fat cock with a broken whimper.

“Fuck, Caleb. S’big,” you whine while rocking forward so he’s not so far in. Regardless, you swear you can feel him in your throat with how he fills you up.

Grabbing your hips, Caleb slowly pulls out and thrusts back in, promising, “I’ll go slow, ‘kay, baby? We’ll go nice n slow, n when you’re ready, we can speed things up, okay? Is that okay?”

“Mhmm!” You moan, nodding lightly before your head falls back as his hips brush your ass. True to his word, Caleb ruts into you lazily, both of your bodies still harbouring that morning stiffness.

For him, it’s never been so difficult not to cum before. He hasn’t raw-dogged it in ages, and the last time he did, it was before he got the snip. Your pussy feels so fucking snug and warm around him.

Behind his eyelids, Caleb swears he’s standing outside of those pearly gates, steps away from entering an everlasting paradise. And when he opens his eyes, he reasons that perhaps he’s already ascended. An angel is moaning beneath him and clenching around his cock so good.

He runs his fingers through your hair and pushes it back before shifting closer and chastely kissing your sweaty temple.

Against it, he moans, “Feel perfect, honey.”

“Yeah?” You giggle, but midway, it transforms into a whimper.

Kissing your cheekbone, he confirms, “Yeah.” Subconsciously, he starts thrusting into you faster and harder, his movements spurred on by his desperation. You cry out as his tip hits that pleasurable spot nestled deep inside of you.

Caleb’s hips stutter as he readjusts, his body now pressing down on yours, one arm by your head while the other is folded so he’s propped up on his elbow. His knee now rests on the pillow just below yours, his cock plunging deeper into your cunt now.

“Caleb!” You call out. Your hands clutch the not-so-fresh bedsheets anymore as he pounds into you sloppily.

The model asks panically, “You okay? You alright, pips? D’you want me to slow down?”

“No! Fuck! Just—Ah!—keep it there.” One of your hands snakes behind your back and latches onto his hips, angling him just right as he ruts into you.

“Yeah, right there, baby! Please—Fuck!” You moan. Your mind turns to mush, all coherent thoughts dissolving as your bodies mould to one another. Caleb carves out his cock in your cunt, and you etch your fingernails into his hip bone. Turning your head to the side, Caleb swallows you up in a heady kiss. Morning breath and all, you two taste one another as his pre-cum (feeling less like pre and more like cum by the minute) spills into your pussy.

This moment feels too tender to just be fucking, but too new to be making love. How would one even go about ‘making love’ with someone they just met? Someone who solely fucks for a living?

Such questions go unanswered as Caleb rasps against your spit-soaked lips, “God, pips. I—Hah—’m not gonna last much longer. Can feel how close you are. Please give it to me, pretty.”

Your back arches, the knot in your tummy tightening as you moan, “Caleb! Fuck, Caleb!” The sound of skin slapping reverberates while your combined whimpers echo off the bedroom walls. The head of his cock slams into your g-spot, making you tighten up around him as both of your highs draw nearer.

“Please! Please cum in me,” you cry out, and Caleb has no choice but to obey. His cum spews into you, foreign and scolding hot—crikey. But it’s enough to send you over the edge. You spasm around him, unable to control it like you’re unable to stuff the high-pitched moans that fall from your lips back down your throat.

Not that it matters. Caleb’s even louder than you are, his pathetic whimpers sending your thighs seizing up around the poor pillow you were using for support. His thrusts become sloppier until his hips push against the fat of your ass and stay there.

The model doesn’t know why, but it just feels natural. To push in as deeply as he can and leak every last drop of his cum into your pussy—that is. He collapses on top of you, heaving in your ear with little regard for how hot his breath is.

“Caleb,” you whine while trying to push yourself up. But you’re stopped in your tracks by the sensitivity between your thighs.

After a minute or so, Caleb sits back and pulls his cock out of you. Sticky white rushes out and trickles down your thighs. Something primal comes over him, long fingers already burying themselves back into your dripping hole and pushing his cum back in. Then he stops himself and draws his fingers out. His rosy cheeks deepen a shade. What the fuck was he just doing?!

“I’ll get you a towel. Hold on, baby,” he pants. You can only hum in acknowledgement, already grabbing another strewn-about pillow and bringing it to your chest.

It doesn’t take long for the bed to dip again with Caleb’s added weight. He gazes over you fondly, noting how snugly you’re cuddling that pillow and your soft whimpers as he swipes the damp towel over your thighs and fluttering cunt.

After wiping himself up, Caleb gently turns you over and replaces the pillow. He cradles you in his chest, murmuring soft ‘thank you’s while scratching at your scalp affectionately. You’re unsure of how long you two stay like that, a lethargy settling over your bodies as you bask in each other.

Eventually, Caleb suggests you both get up and have something to eat. He chuckles warmly as you groan, and he kisses your cheek tenderly before prying off your clinging hands and cleaning himself up (he used your toothbrush).

You keep your eyes closed, sighing once you hear pots and pans crashing in the kitchen. Getting up, you saunter to the bathroom and brush your teeth. Once you’ve rinsed your mouth and applied your skincare, you gaze at yourself in the mirror.

You bite your lip as your eyes trail over all the little bluish-red marks Caleb left on your skin, like he’s staked a claim to your body. Your cunt involuntarily throbs, whatever is left of his cum oozing out as you focus on the hickeys lining your hips. A smile spreads across your lips, and you tilt your head to the side, surprise and scandal turning into admiration.

After changing into a fresh pair of panties and tugging on some shorts and a tank top, you head to the kitchen. Stepping out of the hallway, you see Caleb’s bare back turned to you. He’s frying what smells like eggs.

Walking up behind him, you notice the toast lying on two plates. You place a hesitant hand on his waist, unsure if it’s okay to touch him. You might have had the most mind-blowing sex, but he’s not your boyfriend, and you’d be a fool to think you can do whatever you want to him.

And you are a fool, because Caleb peers down at you with his usual grin and pulls you into his side while chirping, “What’re you lingering over there for, pips?”

You chortle as you collide with his solid frame, a lightness to your chest.

You tease, “Just enjoying the view, duh? I didn’t know our night together would come with a Caleb-cooked breakfast.” His arms flex around you, maneuvering the pan to make the yummiest scrambled eggs you’ll ever taste (he’s sure of it).

“Anything for my special girl,” he says far too casually. Your heart misses a beat, and that familiar flush rises to your cheeks. His special girl. Dear Lord, how you hope that isn’t the cash-filled envelope in his blazer talking.

Leaning down, he kisses your hairline before telling you to go sit down. Disobedient as ever, you snake your arms around his torso and squeeze him tight, dragged along by him around the kitchen as he finishes your breakfast.

When you two finally do sit down, it's the nicest meal any partner has cooked for you. He’s not your partner! Oh, shut up! You scream at yourself internally, willing those thoughts to just fuck off so you can remain present in the dwindling moments you two have left together.

Caleb nudges your plate toward you as he says, concerned, “Everything okay? You haven’t touched your plate.” Your eyes widen, and your head snaps towards him.

You reassure him, “Yeah, everything’s all good, I swear! I was just thinking about how good this looks. I’m gonna try some now.” Grabbing your fork, you cut yourself a bite of the French toast Caleb made. Popping it into your mouth, you sigh in pleasure. It’s deliciously sweet but savoury at the same time.

Covering your mouth with your hand, you pay your compliments to the chef, “This is so yummy!” He laughs sweetly and gazes at you with those gentle eyes before stuffing his mouth full of scrambled eggs. You two eat in comfortable silence. Once you’re finished, Caleb grabs your empty plate and insists on washing all of the dishes. While he does so, you prepare some tea and carry the two mugs over to the living room.

Plopping down on the couch, you hold your mug and blow the steam away as you wait for Caleb. Your eyes stray to the digital alarm clock by the TV. 10:47 stares back at you. His footsteps draw you out of reverie. The model sits next to you and thanks you as you pass him his mug.

You smile, “Thanks for doing the dishes. I really appreciate it.” He slurps on his tea, eyes still on you.

Gulping it down, he assures you, “It’s nothing, pips.” Setting his mug down on the coffee table, he places his hand on your knee and gives it an affectionate squeeze.

“So,” he starts. “How did you find last night? Was it too fast, too slow?” You shake your head.

“Mhmm, no, it was perfect. You were perfect.”

Caleb chuckles, “Was I? Come on, honey. You must have some feedback for me besides bringing more condoms next time.” Next time. Next. Time.

You laugh awkwardly, “Uh yeah, that was, um… That was really dumb of you. Should I keep some on hand if we… keep doing this?” He rests his elbow on the sofa’s edge and leans his head against his palm.

“Weeeeelllll, that depends on you, pipsqueak. It’s up to you if you want to keep seeing each other while I’m here for the next few months.” Oh, right. Your shoulders slump reflexively, and you hope Caleb doesn’t see how pouty your lips have become. But as per usual, he’s perceptive. With the hand that was on your knee, he cups your cheek. Your half-full mug wobbles.

“Sorry,” you mumble while shaking your head and looking down.

“Mhmm,” he hums low and tips your head back so your eyes meet again. How cruel, you think. That 1) you can only see him until he returns to his freshly renovated apartment, and 2) you’re going to have to pay for each sexual encounter you two have.

Averting your eyes momentarily, you explain, “I’ve just had such a good time, I don’t wanna think about you going home.” Caleb takes your mug from your slightly trembling hands and leaves it on the table. Then, he intertwines your fingers, palms pressed together like they were last night when you two were—

“I… want to keep seeing you, Caleb. But…” You trail off.

“But?” He prompts you.

You sigh, “Do you think, since I’m your special girl, I could have a discount? Like a membership?”

“A membership?!” He bursts out laughing, earning him a scowl from you.

“What?! What’s so funny?!” You exclaim. In his joy, he leans in close to you. Intentional or not, the model wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

“Caleb!” You squeak, your cheek squished against his pecs.

Wiping tears from his eyes, he grins widely, “I’ve never had someone ask me for a membership before.”

“Oh, shut up!” You grumble while hitting his firm chest with your fist.

He’s not even phased as he continues, “I’m sure we can work something out. We can do fortnightly, how does that sound? And of course, I’ll give you a discount, honey.”

“M’kay,” you murmur. You squeeze him back just as tight as he squeezes you. On his skin, you can smell his sweat and a hint of your body wash. Something territorial sparks within, but you suppress it almost instantly.

As much as you’d love to spend the entire day curled up on the couch in Caleb’s arms, your session is up. You see him off with a tender kiss and a promise to do this again soon.

…˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚…

Staring at his phone, Caleb groans. Fuck. This is the third collab he’s cancelled in the past week. Why? Because of a certain pipsqueak.

He’s been pushing solo content like he was a year ago, not a single pussy or pair of tits visible in any of his recent uploads. Visiting your hometown had several advantages, one of which was that he had a free place to live while his apartment was renovated, and another was that there were some incredible models around these parts. He has been discussing these collabs for months, but as the day approaches, he finds some excuse about why he can’t make content together.

Never before has Caleb struggled to get hard. But you’ve just done something to him. In his latest videos, he’s been stroking it to a few pictures you two took together. Nothing explicit, not that the curve of your collarbone could count as explicit anyway. Is that the man Caleb has become? A desperate, whining mess for a woman’s collarbone? Not just any woman, but has he really been reduced to this?

It appears so as the model begins a livestream and angles his phone toward the growing bulge in his pants. He hasn’t seen you all week as you’ve been busy with work, and he’s been busy trying to be busy. The thought of that sweet violet dress you were wearing for him last time. The one you said reminded you of his eyes. He tugs his grey sweats down, no boxers on like he was prepared for this, and grips his veiny length.

Increasingly, these past few weeks, you two have been doing what couples do. He’s taken you out to nice restaurants, and you’ve shown him your favourite places in town. He’s crashed at your place after having one too many beers, and you’ve tucked his drunk ass into bed while equally as giddy. Caleb has come over after you’ve had a bad day at work and given you a massage, and you’ve made him dinner to show your appreciation.

Pre-cum leaks from his tip, the comment section going wild as it drips down his shaft. He’s sure that you’re on. You are a good girl after all, always on his live streams within a few minutes. Perhaps you should consider it a preview for tonight. Because tonight, Caleb was dead set on fucking you. He can’t take these cute little dates anymore. He needs to fuck you. He needs to prove to himself that he’s not feeling what he thinks he is, and that he’s just being a good escort and providing his client with what she wants.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum. His thick spend covers his fingers, and he shakes it off with a laugh before bringing his phone up high. He smiles lazily at the camera, his cock twitching against his abdomen. And then he sees your handle come up with a “🙈” as your comment.

He murmurs, “S’all for you, pretty girl.” More comments fill the chat, pushing yours up until it disappears. Caleb chuckles, knowing you must be blushing. With a quick goodbye, he ends the stream and books it to the bathroom to clean up and get ready for tonight.

…˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚…

Caleb can’t. He just can’t fuck you like this. All curled up on his side as you two watch a rom-com. It was going so well, he was flirting, and you were blushing. But then, out of nowhere, you suggested putting on a film, and now, you’re cuddling.

The worst part? Caleb’s enjoying this. In fact, he wouldn’t trade this for the world. And that’s when he accepts that he’s whipped. You’ve got him bound tight around your finger, and you don’t even know it.

As the actors on-screen are fighting, Caleb murmurs, “Hey, pipsqueak.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, tipping your head back (formerly lying on his chest) to gaze up at him. The model’s fingertips brush your hairline as he clears a few strands from your face.

He asks, “You comfy?”

“Mhmm,” you nod and rest your cheek over his heart.

It’s quiet for a minute or so between you two, and Caleb thinks you’ve returned to watching the movie when you pipe up, “D’you want me to transfer you like last time?” His hand on your head stills, and you hear his heartbeat accelerate momentarily.

As it slows back down, he murmurs, “Don’t worry about it.”

Glancing up at him again, you clarify, “You sure?” He shifts a little from how hot it’s suddenly getting in here.

Caleb reassures you, “Yeah, yeah, it’s aaaaalllllll good, pipsqueak. We’re pretty casual now anyway. You don’t need to keep paying me.”

“What?” You mumble while sitting up. You stare at Caleb, waiting for him to confirm that he’s saying what you think he’s saying.

Clearing his throat, your worst nightmare comes true with the words he utters, “I mean, we see each other pretty often. I’d say we’re friends now, rather than strictly model-client, yeah?”

“Friends?” You almost choke on the word. In the three months you’ve been seeing each other, you never would have thought that you and Caleb Xia would become friends. The you three months ago would have been over the moon, but the current you instead feels a pit in your stomach. Somewhere along the way, perhaps you became too selfish because you started thinking that Caleb Xia might like you. As in like like you.

“Well, yeah… Pips, you okay?” He reaches out to cup your cheek, but you grab his wrist before he can touch you.

Nodding, you say quietly, “Yeah. All good. Glad, um, that we’re friends.” Hear that? It’s the sound of your heart breaking and crashing against your ribcage.

For the rest of the movie, you sit next to Caleb, rather than go back to lying on top of him. He asks if you’re alright a few times, but instead of telling him how goddamn much he’s hurt you by categorising you as his friend, you simply nod and smile and murmur reassurances that you are 110% fine.

The cherry on top? He knows. Caleb knows how much pain he’s just caused you and inevitably himself. However, he reminds himself that this is how it has to be. Because there can’t be anything more between you. There just can’t be. He can’t ask for your love when his body is his business.

But his body is business. It’s how he got to where he is. To abandon all of his fans would be wrong, despite how eager he is to chase after a sliver of your affection. Perhaps even more if you would give it to him.

The night ends with Caleb giving you a cold hug and a quick goodbye.

…˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚…

This is bad. Not only has Caleb lost his most loyal fan, but he’s lost his sweet girl.

Since that night, you haven’t texted him or answered any of his texts, nor have you joined any of his live streams or purchased his latest content. Caleb hasn’t jerked it since his last upload a few days ago, and any erection he’s had has fizzled out in minutes.

He misses you like crazy. Misses your laugh and jokes, and little rambles. He misses smushing your cheeks together and making you breakfast and kneading your back muscles to clear up any residual tension. Caleb misses how perfectly you two fit together, the weight of you against his body, and the feel of your arms holding him tight.

Renos are done, and his apartment is supposedly sparkling and awaiting his arrival. But there’s somewhere he’s gotta go first. So much time that could have been spent with you has vanished; he can’t allow any more to slip by without a fight.

Caleb’s got a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand as he futzes with his jeans outside your apartment. Deeming his appearance decent, he raps on your front door a few times. From within, he hears shuffling. When the door opens, and you stand there, all sweet and surprised, draped in one of his shirts he must have left at yours, Caleb’s knees go weak.

“Caleb. What’re you doing here?” You ask, eyeing the gorgeous flowers he’s gripping with white knuckles. He notices how your gaze lingers, and mentally yells at himself to say something.

“These are for you, pipsqueak. Had to see my favourite girl before I go,” he says, falsely cheery while handing you the bouquet. Taking it from him, you get a whiff of the flower’s scent.

You murmur, “Mhmm. They’re beautiful. Thanks.” His heart thumps in his chest as you glance back up at him. You two stare at one another for a minute; he ponders if you’ll invite him inside, and you beg yourself not to.

Finally, you nod toward the living room and offer, “You wanna come in?” He nods enthusiastically and slips past you.

“I’ll just go put these in a vase,” you mumble.

“Yeah, take your time, honey.” Caleb wanders around your living room and notices your phone lying on the coffee table. He wonders if you were just on it, what you were doing, and if you were thinking about him.

With a porcelain thud, you set the flower-filled vase on the island bench in the kitchen. Then, you flit over to where Caleb stands. He gazes at you as you draw closer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to swallow his nerves.

When he doesn’t say anything, you ask, “So, you excited to go home?” He scratches the back of his neck, blood rushing up to his cheeks and tinting them pink. There are a million ways Caleb wants to broach the subject. But he’s running out of time. So he throws caution to the wind and goes all in.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I’m sorry that I said we were friends. God, I feel so fucking stupid. You’re so much more than a friend to me, pipsqueak.” He grabs your hands and tugs you closer, your bodies ghosting each other.

“Caleb—” He cuts you off by doing the only thing reasonable in this situation. Which is to get down on his knees.

“Caleb, get up!” You squeal as he sits on his haunches like a sad puppy.

He shakes his head and squeezes your hands firmly, apologising, “I know I fucked up. But I need you, baby. I need you. I can’t do this anymore without you.” Caleb stares up at you, a glassiness to your eyes. You must resist, you chant to yourself. You know just how darn good he is at convincing the emotionally vulnerable to forgive him. And boy, are you emotionally vulnerable right now.

“Caleb—”

“You stopped joining my streams and watching my videos. I miss you, pips. I miss your attention. I miss—” he gazes off to the side, his chest rising heavily. “I miss taking care of you. I miss our dates. I miss you telling me whatever is on your mind. I want us back.”

“Caleb—”

“Please, pipsqueak. Please give me another chance. I’ll be good, I swear! I’ll do whatever it takes to make this up to you, so please!” He begs. You gnaw on your lip as Caleb looks at you like he’s about to burst out into tears if you don’t answer him within the next few seconds. But you can’t because he can’t shut up for that long.

“I promise, there’s been no one else but you, pips! I swear. You’re the only one I’ve been seeing since I got here. I think about you every day, multiple times a day. I can’t even get hard without you, honey. I need you,” he babbles.

You sigh, “Caleb, baby, just be quiet for a minute, okay?” He nods. In his eyes, you are the redeeming light. His saviour. The only one who can take away this heartache (and chronically soft cock). What he wouldn’t give to feel you again. To pull you into his chest. Maybe give you a sweet kiss. That’s all he needs, the model tells himself. All he needs is a moment of your embrace if you would permit it.

“Caleb,” you start. Your thumbs swipe over the backs of his hands, reminiscent of his quiet care these past few months.

“I’ve missed you, too. But…” You place extra emphasis on the ‘t’.

“But what, honey? Just tell me. I’ll do anything to make it better, I promise—”

“Caleb,” you interrupt him, an annoyed edge to your tone. He sniffles and waits for you to go on.

You murmur, “If we start seeing each other again, I don’t want to just be… an easy fuck to you.”

“An—Is that what you think you are to me, pipsqueak? Do you seriously think that I just wanna fuck around with you?” He asks in disbelief. You nod tentatively. Caleb huffs and shakes his head. Looking down, he takes note of the mismatched socks you’re wearing. His precious girl.

Caleb’s head falls back as he gazes up at you and shifts closer. His knees are starting to hurt, but he doesn’t mind. He knows he deserves it.

“Trust me when I tell you, pips, you are not and have never been an easy fuck to me. I can’t even—That doesn’t even make sense. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so fucking sorry that I’ve made you feel like that. Please tell me, baby, what I need to do to make this right.” You shake your head and avoid his eyes.

He suggests frantically, “I haven’t done a single collab since we first went out, pips, you know that. And-and I won’t do any for as long as you’re in my life.” Tears glint in the noon light, shimmering on your cheeks. Caleb feels helpless right now. He wants to bundle you up in his strong arms and soothe your pain, but he’s not getting up from his place on the floor until you allow him to.

Letting go of your hands, he shuffles closer and slithers his arms around your thighs. His face rests against your lower tummy, and he squeezes you reassuringly as your cries become louder.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for making you cry. I’m sorry, honey. Never wanted things to end up like this,” he mumbles into his your shirt.

You sob his name, and he wills himself to be patient as you gather up your strength to choke out, “I did-didn’t m-mean to cry, just… Wan-want you all t-to myself.” Caleb sighs, relief washing over him.

“I’m all yours, pips,” he breathes out into your soft body. Leaning back, he releases your thighs and slides his hands up to your waist.

Gazing at you, he says factually—like his words are not merely an interpretation or an opinion, but have been sanctioned by the cosmos, “You own every part of me. And you can do whatever you want with me.” You laugh at that.

“Whenever I-I want?”

“Mm-hmm, whenever, wherever, whatever. I belong to you,” he coos. You grab his forearms and pull him off you so you can kneel with him. Caleb automatically protests, but you collapse in his arms, crying all ugly.

On the floor of your apartment, you pour your heart and soul out to him. Moved by your tears, Caleb cries with you. Maybe it’s the honeymoon phase, but the feeling of his arms around you, his musk curling up your nostrils, is euphoric.

Until the fading sunlight, you two whisper scared promises and sweet nothings to one another. Such is sealed with tender, light kisses and back rubs.

In your wildest dreams, you had hoped Caleb Xia would consider you as a dating option. But you never imagined that you’d be so much more to him, or that he’d be so much more to you. The eternity of such becomes a silent prayer, toppling from the tip of your tongue every night you spend together henceforth. Little do you know how non-silent a prayer your relationship is to Caleb.

masterlist

star's final words: sorry if it's lowk shit. i've been cooking on this idea for weeks and was starting to get bored so i wanted to pump it out. hope y'all still liked it.

thanks jay for listening to all of my rants about this fic! i really appreciate all of your help and loved your insights along the way<3

taglist - @calebs-apple, @mcdepressed290, @thirstblogforaparchedgirl, @ssushi, @asiatic-apple, @gunningformeow, @calebsbabyapple, @hilliserose, @whaleshadlegs, @cichoricum, @grlyeetswrld, @animezer0-blog, @thdcre, @sudenuryg, @radiance-astaria, @noxus123, @candied-baby-apple, @alhaithamlover, @alj6574, @dailydoseofinsomniac, @batatahahaha, @partycityyyyyyy, @mocha-the-muse, @seueuq, @horanghaeegr

#★’s works #love and deepspace #caleb x reader #lads caleb #caleb smut #xia yizhou smut #lnds caleb #xia yizhou x reader #caleb love and deepspace

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nyutasomething · 5 days ago

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THIS MANS FACE CARD IS INSANE

#caleb lore #caleb x you #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #caleb #lnds caleb #lads caleb #caleb lads #caleb love and deepspace #caleb lnds

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calebsdog · 2 days ago

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Doomscrolling with Caleb is a top tier experience.

Taking a lazy day in, spending some quiet quality time in bed, the two of you lay back to back. Your cold feet intertwine with Caleb's underneath the blanket. Stealing his warmth as any decent girlfriend would.

"What made you laugh this time? Show me."

Whenever Caleb hears you laugh he glances over his shoulder, already smiling in anticipation. Just because you're scrolling on separate phones doesn't mean he isn't interested in whatever captured your attention.

However, even though you're on your own phones, he doesn't let you get away with sending him messages. The sole of his foot nudges your ankle as your username pops up in his notifications.

"I'm not even a foot away from you, lazy bones. Just turn around and show me the video yourself."

Sometimes your quiet quality time is spent cuddled a little closer. Caleb has his phone propped upright on his chest, his fingers wrapped around the back for support. Your head rests on his shoulder just far enough from the screen so Caleb won't scold you for hurting your eyes.

You were essentially playing with Caleb's phone while he sits back to watch. Whenever you get bored of the video playing you'll reach out to scroll to the next. But when you want to let the video play out Caleb never scrolls away out of his own boredom.

Like this you're also allowed to like, reblog, or bookmark any video or picture that has earned your approval. You leave a mark on his account, changing his feed the longer you spend on his phone.

"Because of your influence I'll get to see more of what you find funny, what you think is cute, what makes you grumpy. I'll come across something and think 'she'd like this.' And I'll be the one to show it to you."

#Nyx writes ࣪ ִֶָ☾.#love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #caleb x reader #lnds caleb x reader #caleb x mc #caleb x you #caleb x y/n #caleb xia x reader #lnds caleb #caleb #lnds #caleb xia #love and deepspace headcanons

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asiatic-apple · 5 days ago

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Pain reliever

aka slow, injured sex

Caleb x female reader

Words: 2k

Recommended listening: caleb’s pained grunts in farewell intimacy (lol i’m being cheeky)

Caleb winces as you dab antiseptic on a shallow gash across his ribs. “That one looks worse than it feels,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant even as you catch him gritting his teeth.

You ignore the way he brushes it off, acting like it doesn’t matter that he’s covered in scrapes and bruises and still drenched in sweat from the fight. He always downplays his injuries—and if you try to call him out on it, he just says he learned it from you. It’s aggravating, to say the least.

But even through your annoyance, your hands are steady, practiced at cleaning up various injuries as a Hunter. Your body, on the other hand, hasn’t gotten the memo to chill the fuck out and just focus on taking care of Caleb.

Your thighs keep pressing together, tightening reflexively every time he hisses or groans under your touch. There’s something about the way he looks right now—slumped on the bed in only his criminally tight boxer briefs, flecks of dried blood painting the curve of his abs—that makes heat curl low in your belly.

He looks perfectly wrecked right now.

It’s not like you want him to be in pain. You'd do anything to stop him from getting even the slightest scratch on his flawless skin. But he’s headstrong by nature, and being Colonel means he’s always throwing himself into danger.

Maybe it’s twisted, but you feel a surge of desire every time Caleb is battle-worn like this. Each mark makes him look a bit more dangerous and proves that he’d do anything to keep you from harm—even if it means taking all your hits for you.

It also doesn’t help that he keeps making such sinful sounds. Is he in pain, or is he enjoying this? Who would make these kinds of moans when they’re severely injured?

You start to wonder if he has a masochistic streak. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

His low chuckle breaks your momentary daydream of pulling more of those noises out of him with a very different method. When you drag your gaze away from the sheen of his sweaty muscles and look up at his stupid smug face, he smirks. Even as he’s bloody and beaten up from being cornered by too many Wanderers, he gives you a lopsided, far-too-cocky grin.

“You’re clenching your thighs every time I breathe, pips,” he murmurs with a curious tilt of his head. “You gonna tell me why?”

It doesn’t matter that you scowl and try to play it off. He still raises a brow like he’s daring you to deny it.

“I think,” he says slowly, “someone’s getting a little worked up from patchin’ me up.”

Before you can say anything, he catches your wrist and tugs you forward with a soft grunt, making you straddle him properly. Your other palm braces against the headboard of the bed as you instinctively try not to put too much pressure on him.

He’s so warm beneath you, and his pupils get blown wide as he yanks you even closer, intent on leaving no inch of space between your bodies.

“Wait, you’re injured,” you try to protest.

His grip tightens, refusing to let you pull away. In this newfound position, you can easily feel the growing bulge beneath his underwear, and you can't help but grind down on it just to alleviate some of the ache that was festering between your thighs before.

A groan rumbles in Caleb’s throat as his hands settle on your waist. “I know my limits,” he says softly, smiling up at you like he’d give you anything you desire. “I can handle whatever you throw my way.”

Exhaustion and pain roughen his voice—and the sound of it sends a jolt straight through your core.

“You want me, don’t you?” he asks, fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt and teasing you with feather-light touches that leave goosebumps on your skin.

“Well, yeah…but–”

“No buts,” he interrupts playfully.

There’s a gentle tug of your shirt before he hastily tries to get it over your head, even if the big movement makes him wince in pain. Not even your stern look at his discomfort can stop him from pulling it all the way off and flinging it to the side.

When his eyes lock onto your bare chest, he groans softly at the sight of your pebbled nipples.

“If you want me, then you can have me,” he whispers reverently while running his hands up your sides. “Will it make you feel better if I don’t move? You can just…use me.”

It’s too tempting of an offer, and he knows it. He looks at you like your pleasure is the only thing he cares about. And you’re basically done bandaging all his wounds now. Would it really be so bad to take him up on such a delectable offer?

“You promise you’ll tell me if I hurt you or make you uncomfortable?” you ask, holding out your pinky.

Caleb chuckles but links his larger pinky with yours. “Yeah, yeah. I promise, pip-squeak.”

You stare at him for a second longer, tightening your finger around his in a warning that he better stay true to his word. When he just continues smiling back at you with those cute, innocent puppy eyes, you can’t hold back anymore.

You press your mouth to his carefully, and he kisses you back just as slowly—like he’s savoring the taste of you. The softness of it reminds you of the fight from earlier. One wrong move could have led to you losing him all over again.

The sudden tension creeping up your body is easily clocked by Caleb, so he distracts you with wandering hands. He palms your breast, his thumb brushing lazily over your nipple to pull a low moan from your parted lips.

With each wanton sound you make, his cock strains even harder beneath the thin fabric of his underwear. You can’t tell if the dampness between you is from him, you, or both.

You rock your hips forward—just enough to test the friction. The heat beneath his boxers makes you gasp, and now there’s no mistaking it: that wetness you feel is mutual.

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask, breath hitching when he ruts up against you just slightly.

His fingers flex around your body. “I said you can take what you want,” he nearly growls in restraint. “And I meant it.”

Another gasp tears from your throat as you grind more deliberately, chasing the right angle that makes your toes curl. The friction is rough, a little less forgiving than skin-on-skin, but Caleb doesn’t seem to care.

One of his hands continues to play with your nipples while the other rests on your waist. He’s not guiding you or controlling your movements. He’s staying true to his word and letting you do whatever you want to him.

“God,” you breathe, pressing your forehead to his as you move faster. “You feel so good, Caleb. I can feel you—so hot.”

“Yeah?” he rasps, sucking in a sharp breath when the cleft of your cunt nudges the head of his cock again. “Then keep going. That’s it,” he coos as you roll your hips a bit faster. “Rub that pretty pussy on me, baby.”

Your panties are ruined now, completely soaked through and sticking to you with every drag you make against his twitching erection. And even though he clenches his jaw and his muscles strain beneath you, he doesn’t even try to adjust himself. He just lets you hump him harder, your thighs beginning to tremble with the effort.

But this isn’t enough to push you over the edge. When you whine softly, he immediately knows what you need. He tugs your panties to the side, knuckles whitening as he grips it in a fist. Then he wastes no time bringing his other hand to your dripping entrance, sliding his fingers along your slit to gather the wetness there and glide up to your clit.

“Is this what you need?” Caleb murmurs, keeping his eyes on your face as he slowly circles the aching bud.

The direct stimulation makes you whimper and nod frantically, unable to use words to respond. And all the while, he stares at you with a strange mix of adoration and amusement.

He keeps watching, even as your eyes flutter shut and your head tilts back in a soundless cry of pleasure. No matter how many times he gets to do this with you, he will never stop drinking in all your little reactions with awe.

It’s like he still can’t believe he gets to slip two fingers inside your spasming cunt while his thumb replaces the quickening circles he was making around your clit.

With his fingers finally filling that deep, pulsing ache and pressing just right against your g-spot, you lose all sense of cautiousness. A more frenzied pace begins as you eagerly fuck yourself on his fingers and barrel toward your orgasm.

“This…s’unfair,” you slur through a needy whine as your head falls into the crook of his neck. “You’re cheating. Said you wouldn’t move.”

Caleb chuckles and curls his fingers by a fraction more, pressing even harder on that spot that makes you see stars. “But I’m not movin’, pip-squeak. You’re doing all the work for me.”

He winces a little when your fingers dig into the bruises blooming along his shoulders, but he doesn’t complain. His groan echoes in your ear before he presses a gentle kiss to your warm cheek. “You’re gonna come like this, aren’t you?”

You nod, desperate, panting into his neck. Your whole body tightens as the pleasure peaks—until you're clenching around him hard, hips stuttering as your pussy swallows his fingers and gushes against his palm.

Your voice cracks on his name, and distantly, you feel Caleb’s hips jerking at the same time something warm and wet coats his underwear. He moans with you, shaking as you slowly hump him a few more times while you come down from your high.

After a long moment, you slump forward, burying your face in his throat. Sweat and the smell of iron cling to his skin, but you still gingerly press a kiss to his neck while his fingers slide out and add to the slick mess where your lap meets his.

You glance down and bite your lip at the sight of his cum-stained boxers. It’s too tempting to reach down and tug the waistband below his half-hard cock, a cute little blush gracing his cheeks when you give in.

He looks so sweet and shy now—none of that smug confidence he had while his fingers were buried inside you.

You smear his cum around the tip of his cock, watching with satisfaction when it twitches and Caleb whines softly from oversensitivity.

“Did I hurt you at all?” You study his expression carefully for any hint of a lie.

He shakes his head, fingers gripping the sheets beside you when you start running the tip of your finger along his slit and around the head.

If he wasn’t in much pain before, he’s definitely feeling something now—his cock twitching in your palm, overstimulated and flushed. But you know he'd tap out if he needs to.

Chuckling softly, you ask, “Then should we go for another round?”

The teasing question is accompanied by you sliding off his body to rest your head on his lap, lips inching closer to his cock. When he only nods and whimpers from your breath fanning across his skin, you take it as a sign that he wants this.

“Alright,” you whisper before pressing a quick kiss to the tip. “But this time, you better behave…and stay still.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he croaks, already trembling—just before your mouth wraps around him, promising a whole new kind of ache.

a/n: I was stuck on this fic for so long, and I'm still not sure if I like it lol...but I'm hoping I did an okay job!

Want to be added to my tag list?

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banner and dividers by me (please don't repost)

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calebsmoocher · 2 days ago

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Makeup Ruiner! Caleb

She's out and about while he's sitting at home, pulling tufts of his own hair out. It's almost like she's forgotten about him. Nothing he can't fuck back into her memory tho 🤷‍♀️

cw: smut (so mdni!), stand and carry fuck / wall sex (the goat), mirror sex, jealous Caleb awh, sweet at the end i swear

She slides the key into the keyhole as quietly as she can, turning the door knob with her lip between her teeth. It’s 1AM and her phone has been blowing up for the past three hours.

Where are you?

Let me know when you’re on your way home.

Are you okay?

Hello?

Do you need me to pick you up?

Let me know that you’re okay.

Hello??

She clenches her eyes until she hears the faint click of the door opening. She had accidentally put her phone in ‘do not disturb’ mode earlier, only getting to check it when she was on her way home.

“Caleb is going to kill me.” The thought hums its way like a mantra through her mind and she can only purse her lips in defeat. She steps into her apartment and shuts the door behind her. Her feet are killing her. Though the pink heels she has on aren’t necessarily as high as her other heels, the material still clips at her heels and toes. She braces a hand on the wall, using the other to start untying the winding ribbon on her calf. But her bag slides and knocks into her hand at the tip of her weight. She thinks she might fall over before she throws her weight completely onto the wall.

When she looks up, Caleb is leaning against the doorway, a hand placed languidly on his hip. She gasps, almost falling down again.

“Caleb..!” He pushes himself up, walking towards her. His brows are furrowed. And he’s wearing outerwear. “You scared me.” When he stops in front of her, he takes her elbows into his hands, balancing her off the wall.

“I was so worried.”

She grimaces before giving him her best, pleading look.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise my phone was on ‘do not disturb’. I didn’t get any of your messages until I was nearly home.” He takes the bag off her shoulder and hangs it at the door.

“You didn’t get my messages? Or you just didn’t happen to see them until now?” Despite her eyes crinkling in guilt, his gaze is lowered at her feet. He kneels down and begins untying the ribbon bow.

“Caleb…”

“You must’ve been really engrossed in whatever you were doing to not check your phone.” Although his words cut into her, his tone is soft. Almost disinterested. Once the ribbon falls to her ankles, he undoes the other shoe. “You’re home safe now. That’s all that matters.” He looks up and gives her a reassuring smile. She can’t help but run her hand through his hair. It’s soft and smells faintly of their shared shampoo.

She winces as he guides one foot out of her heel, leaning one hand down onto his shoulder.

“Your skin’s rubbed raw.” He frowns, wrapping an arm beneath her knees. He picks her up bridal style and she curls her arms around his neck despite feeling supported. Red floods her cheeks and her wide eyes can hardly stay on his. He wiggles her other shoe off before dropping it to the floor. He turns his head to her, mouth parting then closing again, as he walks further into the house.

“Caleb, you don’t have to…” He ignores her.

“Why not wear more comfortable shoes next time?” She looks down, suddenly finding his plain shirt interesting.

“I didn’t think I’d be walking as much as I did. Anyway, it only started hurting now.”

“Right,” he hums, turning the corner into the bathroom and flicking the lightswitch with his elbow. He sets her down on the counter and smooths down the fabric of her dress over her knees. There, his fingers linger, letting the soft cotton fall through his hands.

The bathroom is cramped. Really, it’s a battle when they’re both using it to get ready at the same time. Despite the state of their bathroom in their youth, the room now is spotless. The counter only has their differing face cleansers and creams lined up neatly against the splashback. When he stays over he uses her shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. And he comes out smelling just as pampered as her. He claims that her shampoo makes his hair softer. It’s a local brand, one that he can’t find in Skyhaven. So he’s always taking a travel size back with him when he returns.

He bends down and opens the cabinet, grabbing ointment and a box of bandaids. As he unscrews the cap of the ointment, she takes the box in her hands, inspecting the designs on the back. It’s the same brand they had used as kids, but now the patterns were different. She shuffles through the packets, looking for one with a design to her liking. A wince leaves her mouth as the cool ointment presses into her heel. Caleb murmurs an apology, offering her a teasing pout. He uses a cotton pad to gently rub it in before holding his hand out to her.

“See any you like?” She hands him one with a cartoon apple on it.

“I don’t remember buying these.”

“That’s ‘cause I bought them.” He smooths the bandaid over her skin before standing up and washing his hands beside her. She watches him in silence, chewing at her lip. When he’s done, he returns in front of her, not one word having been exchanged since.

He rests his hands on either side of her, taking a step back and letting his eyes wander over her. Her cheeks are still flushed as his scent encases her. She can feel the warmth radiating off of him; it’s a nice contrast to the goosebumps forming on her shoulders. Her dress is a pillowy pink, with lace butterflies sewn over the straps and bust. The sleeves are a sheer tulle that open out into a fanned cuff at her wrists. She wants to throw a towel at him, but there’s nothing in reach. She has never worn something like this, never seen herself in something so dainty and elegant. So, of course, neither has Caleb. Sure, he had witnessed her princess phases when she was young; the phases when she’d wrap bedsheets around her like a ballgown and appoint him as her butler. Have him hold her hand so she wouldn’t trip over the bundle of fabric while she paraded around their living room.

And the phase in middle school when she began to experiment with makeup, braving school with cheeks so pink it looked like a sunburn. He had even seen her at her high school dance. Makeup done professionally, and a pretty dress that was fit for royalty. But she had still been a teenager. And throughout college and her moving into the workforce, she never returned to those princess phases.

Not until right now.

“You’re beautiful.” He twirls the ribbon around his finger loosely before letting it fall back against her dress. Then he brushes his thumb over her knee, tracing the dangerous line where skin disappears into fabric. His eyes wander over her face. The soft, pink blend of blush on her cheekbones. The intricate detailing of brown and black shadow around her eyes drawn out into subtle winged eyeliner. The gentle, coral plush of her lips. He swallows, a pink hue prickling at his cheeks. “So pretty. Did you have a good time at least?”

She drags her fingers up his arm, pressing into the hard muscle, before humming in reply. She can’t trust her voice not to quiver. Can’t trust her face to not flush in embarrassment if she meets his endearing eyes. No matter what he says, some part of her will still feel like the silly little girl dressing up. He mirrors her hand, knuckles brushing up her wrist, all the way up past her shoulder to her chin. He lifts her jaw so that she meets his gaze, face craned down and eyes searching hers. His brows are slightly furrowed, and she knows if she lets him look any longer, he’ll figure out exactly what’s wrong. So she pushes his hand away. But he only reels back closer than before, palm pressing against her cheek as his fingers wrap along the shell of her ear. He guides her lips towards his, then he waits. Hovers. And she watches as he takes another look down at her dress before clenching his eyes. She watches as his mouth fights between their open and closed states, like he’s juggling with whether or not to speak.

He decides to kiss her first, taking her lip between his and pushing feverishly into her. She wraps a hand around the arm that is still braced on the counter beside her. But the kiss is as fleeting as her shock. He pulls away, just far enough to speak into her cheek.

“I’ve never seen this dress before…” Is that what he’s thinking about? Her mind blanks.

“...It was a gift.”

“Right,” comes his reply after a beat. He doesn’t dwell on it any longer before he leans down again to capture her lips once more. He doesn’t mean to be rough. But the way he’s angling his face, pushing her body back further onto the counter, she can only grip his arm tighter. His tongue swipes at her lip and she lets him in without a thought. His smell, entwined with the scent of his shampoo, fills her. Her eyes fall shut and she feels her mind slip. His tongue is cruel as it sucks on hers, coaxing her mouth wider.

“Right, but, from who?”

She has to fight the roll of her eyes as she takes in a breath, pulling him back towards her. She doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t force her. Her hand runs up along his scalp, messing up his neat hair. She doesn’t know why, but she has a fixation with his hair. The way it just falls through her fingers. The way no matter what angle she’s touching his head, he always lets a groan slip. Delightful, full groans as he rocks his body against her, in between her inviting legs. He hikes her dress up to get closer. He thinks he should be afraid of ruining it, but he isn’t. Not even in the slightest.

“Mmph,” she moans into his mouth. When he lets up, giving them a chance to breathe, both their lips are red and swollen. She can almost see the puffs of hot air leaving his mouth. Almost hear the thumping of his chest if her own wasn’t so overpowering. Her lipstick is smudged at the corners of his mouth, so she takes her thumb and swipes at it, watching with half-lidded eyes at the plush of his lips under her finger.

“Can I take this off?” He fingers thread over the tied ribbons on her sleeves. Despite its airy and pretty appearance, the tulle rubs against her skin the wrong way.

“Yeah.” She guides him back down to her, leaving small kisses along his jaw. At the corners of his mouth. Along the thin flesh of his neck as he pulses against her. His breaths are heavy as he undoes the ribbon and slides the sleeve off her. He does the same on the other side. Then his hand travels to the strap of the dress, tugging gently at the bow.

His brows furrow as he looks at the thin straps. Her skin is flushed beneath it, and her chest is rising unevenly. Slowly, he pulls the end of the bow until it falls messily and the fabric falls just shy of her breast. He gapes, pulling back a little to get a glimpse of her face.

“No bra?” It’s almost a whisper; almost just to himself, even, as his fingers dip over the soft curve of her flesh. She reaches for his hand, and guides it to the other strap without a word. No, her lips are focused on unwinding him from the base of his throat. He follows her encouragement and pulls the string, letting the bust of the fabric fall down onto her lap. He takes a moment, eyes grazing over the swell of her breasts. Over her hardened nipples as the rush of cold air engulfs them.

“Don’t stare,” she whines, pulling his face into her neck. He uses the opportunity to reach around her and begin loosening the lace in the corset.

“Why not, though?” His tone is teasing.

“It’s unfair,” she mumbles, hands lifting the hem of his shirt. He lets her tug it up to his chest before helping her and pulling it over his head. When he looks back at her, her cheeks are red as embers. His scent is overwhelming, and the heat radiating off his chest makes her dizzy. But she reaches up anyway, and runs her palm over his chest. Her fingers dip and bend to every crevice, every rise and fall of his muscles.

Forgetting the corset, his hands pull her chin back towards him. His lips are scorching against hers, wet and messy in their trail down to her jaw. She gasps into the air, pulling him closer by his waist. The sheer broadness of his torso forces her legs wider, and he leans flush against her. His fingers work blindly to hike the rest of her dress up, pulling it out from under her and bunching it together at her waist.

“Look at you.” His thumbs strokes at the soft flesh of her inner thigh before taking a devious swipe at her clothed cunt. “I’m going to ruin you, baby.”

“Caleb,” she sighs airily, wriggling her hips to get closer. He holds her in place, though, one hand gripping her waist as he kneels down in between her legs. He rubs at her clothed clit and she throws her head back, biting down a moan.

“Don’t go quiet on me now, baby. You’ve done more than enough of that tonight, don’t you think?” She feels the sting of guilt creep back into her chest, contorting with her stirring arousal. But she can’t say anything; her mind blanks as he presses a chaste kiss on the damp fabric. “Answer me, baby.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m sorry, Caleb.” He doesn’t respond; instead he pulls her panties to the side and thumbs over her sensitive flesh.

“You’re already so wet, baby,” he murmurs, leaning in to press another kiss at her sex. She swallows and leans back onto her elbows. Despite her squirms, she can’t get any closer. He won’t let her. “Gonna use my fingers to stretch you out, okay?”

She nods frantically even though he can’t see her, her whimpers breaking through her clenched teeth. He uses his thumb to part her sex, sliding it gently up and down her sticky opening. Just when he thinks he has to use his evol to stop the writhing of her hips, he slides a finger into her, and she shudders. Compared to her own, Caleb’s fingers are thicker, longer. Warmer, even. He starts a slow, even pace. But even he knows she can take more with the state of her dripping cunt.

“Gonna add another, okay?”

She nods again.

“Please, yes.” Her words are just as shaky as her breath. She’s backed so far up onto the counter that her shoulders and head rest on the mirror. It’s freezing compared to the blaze between her legs.

As he slides a second finger in, he wraps his mouth around her clit, sucking harshly. She almost cums right there, lurching forward.

“Caleb!” When the shock dissolves, she leans back down against the mirror, writhing against his tongue. His fingers are still gentle and slow. But his tongue is fierce, nudging at her most sensitive part with the tip of his tongue. She can see him growing restless beneath her, faintly mimicking her squirm. The hand on her waist presses into her harshly for a second before he soothes the area with his thumb.

“Gonna let you go now. Don’t move.” His voice is gentle, but firm. He looks up at her, mouth still on her cunt, and she feels something sinister stir in her stomach. She gives him a weak nod and mouths an ‘okay’.

His hand leaves her shakily, then travels down to his own pants as he begins palming himself. She almost rolls her hips in pleasure but his piercing gaze holds her in place. His pace on his cock is rough yet slow, matching the thrusts of his fingers. Milky fluid is dripping down to his wrist, threatening to drop and stain his pants. He can’t care less, though. Not when he’s the one making her feel this good.

“Caleb!” She can’t stop her squirms anymore, hand grabbing tufts of his hair and pulling him away to no avail. “Stop! I’m gonna come!” The moans falling from her mouth do nothing to deter him.

“Do it,” he says, sucking more harshly. He slips a third finger in and she lurches forward, using her other hand to brace herself on his shoulder. She shakes her head, the sting of tears brimming at her eyelids.

“Don’t wanna.” She groans and her thighs try to clamp shut around him. “Wanna come on your cock. Please, please, Caleb.” His eyes snap up to hers again, brows knitted sternly.

“Come,” he demands, “do it. On my fingers.”

Despite her begs and whines, he doesn’t give her a choice. His fingers never slow, pushing and pulling against her pulsing walls until she can no longer hold it in. She orgasms with an open mouthed whine, thighs cramping in an exhaustive shake around his head. His fingers continue their slow drag through her high, letting her ride out the intensity. A single tear has spilled from her eye, traversing the curve of her flushed cheek. She slumps back down against the mirror, elbows just strong enough to support her body.

“Good girl,” he says quickly, standing up and leaning down over her. He lifts her chin and looks over her, eyes searching hers. He kisses the stray tear gently; and it disappears into the mix of come and fluids on his tongue.

Despite the pulsing of her swollen cunt, when she sees his hands unbuckle his belt, she can feel the slick in her start to build up again. She sucks in a few quick breaths, sitting up and reaching forward. She beckons him down and he obeys, letting her kiss frantic, breathless kisses along his neck, leaving coral lipstick marks in their wake. His fingers almost fumble with the belt, yanking it off and throwing it to the floor. They work messily on his zipper before pulling down his trousers to his ankles and kicking them off. Before he can steady himself, her hands are already tugging at the waistband of his briefs.

“So fucking needy,” he breathes into her, mouth ghosting her hair. Once his briefs are off, he gives himself a few slow, wide strokes. His inhale is shaky. Precum is leaking out of his tip and dripping down its veiny length. “Want me to fuck you, baby?”

“Yes,” she says immediately, shimmying closer. Her breath hitches as he presses the tip at her sex, stroking slowly up and down the puffy opening. “Yes, I want you to fuck me. Please, Caleb.” She can see how strongly her pleas affect him in the way his cock twitches. In the way the muscles in his arms tighten. And in the way his jaw tenses at her every whine.

The sticky fluids from her orgasm gather at the tip of his cock and he rubs it over her flesh like a lubricant. When neither of them can take anymore, he presses forward, pushing into her cunt inch by inch. The girth makes her shudder and moan out into the hot air between them. She can feel him filling her out completely, taking every last barrier between them down until he occupies every nook and cranny of her conscience.

“Oh fuck,” she whines, clenching her eyes shut. He starts moving, fucking her shallowly with half his cock. Working his way further and further into her as she loosens around him. He watches her expressions, each little contortion as he fucks her. Slowing and pulling back when he thinks she might cry out. The first stretch is always overwhelming, but he navigates her physical boundaries until she fully relaxes in his hold. He gives her a gentle kiss on her forehead and she smiles up at him despite her glassy eyes. Her winged eyeliner is smudged across her cheekbones. And her natural flush outdoes the pink blush. She gasps up at him, gesturing for him to keep going.

He begins thrusting into her fully, deeply with his entire cock, and her ears redden at the squelch. His pace is slow but rough, and it pushes her up further and further on the counter until her back is pressed against the mirror. She can only brace her hands against his arms locked on either side of her, nails digging into his biceps. She can feel every drag of his cock along her walls. Every ridge and curve as he fills her up slowly. Almost at a teasing pace.

“Waited all night for you.” He’s bringing this up again now. “While you were out, all pretty for someone else.” He gives her a sharp thrust and she whimpers, eyes falling shut. As she loses herself in the darkness, focusing on nothing but the feeling of his cock pushing in and out of her, she feels his knuckles brush along her cheek.

“Eyes on me, baby.”

It’s a struggle to keep her eyes open and fixed on his piercing gaze, but he doesn’t take no for an answer.

“Caleb,” she moans, blinking frantically to keep herself from slipping. She feels so, so full. And with each delicious push of his cock into her, he rubs against her sensitive, spongy tissue. She can feel her slick slipping out, can hear it even with each embarrassing squelch as his dick pushes through it.

“Couldn’t even message me back-” he lands another forceful thrust, “because you were too occupied with whatever you were doing.” His pace has quickened now; and his knuckles are white against the counter as he braces himself. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“I said I’m sorry,” she cries out, holding onto him for dear life.

“For what?” He bites at her neck, harshly, then soothes over the area with his tongue. “What are you sorry for?” She gasps as he pulls her to the edge of the counter, forcing her legs wider to accommodate his hips.

“I’m…I-” Her mind is going delirious with every thrust, lips biting into her swollen lips as he pushes her closer and closer towards release. “Wait,” she gasps, plating her palm against his chest. “It’s getting all over the dress.” Their combined slick has dribbled down the swell of her ass, spilling onto the counter and staining the ruffles of her dress.

Caleb barks a laugh, slowing his rut. He pulls out but he can’t stop the gush of arousal that seeps out of her sex and onto the fabric. He lifts her to her feet, steadying her for a second in her wooziness, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Want me to take it off, yeah?” His fingers pull at the ribbon and loosen the corset until it all but slips off her chest. He tugs the fabric down her hips harshly through her ‘uh huh’s and helps her step out of the pile of fabric. He kicks it out of the way much to her dismay. “Don’t worry. We’ll get it dry cleaned before you return it,” he snarls in her ear, biting at the skin.

Pushing her away from the counter and against the wall, he wraps her thigh around his waist. His lips work their way across her collarbone, sucking harshly at the flushed skin. She mewls into his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly as he lifts her around him.

“Want it just like this, yeah?” His nose nudges into her cheek at their proximity and he lines his cock back up with her messy sex. She’s pulsing. Being carried like this, having his flexed biceps all over her, she can almost feel her come at the brink of release. As she breathes in him, she catches a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror and almost moans. He’s so fucking huge, covering her entire torso. She can see her legs, wrapped neatly around him, and her heels digging into the flesh just above his ass. She swallows, a guilty flush encasing her face, and hides her face in the crook of his neck.

Caleb slides his cock back into her, the red, angry tip swallowed in murky white release.

“Now, tell me what you’re sorry for.” The sheer power of his thrusts causes him to push her back against the wall for support. She gasps and warbles into him, nipping intermittently at his lipstick stained neck.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you. For not--mmph--checking my phone and making you--oh my god--making you worry.” The tears she has been so strong in restraining finally break. Inky globes roll down her cheek as her mascara runs. He watches her, bewitched by the way she looks so messy. So used and broken as she cries out his name. He thrusts into her harder. And she looks so pretty, he thinks, as fresh, hot tears run down her cheeks. Smearing her eyeshadow and liner until its nothing but a splatter of marks under her waterline. Her tears carve away at her foundation, leaving streaky beige stains down to her chin. And it feels so good. She feels so fucking full of him.

“Talk to me, baby,” he presses, kissing her brow.

“Mmhm,” she moans, head thrown back. “Feels so good. I just feel you.”

Her eyes can’t help but be pulled to the mirror, watching as he flexes his ass with each slam into her. She experiments with dragging her nails down his back, eyes widening as he convulses. Gasping as he pushes more roughly into her, fucking her ruthlessly against the wall. She can no longer hide her fixation, the dirty, sinister churning in her gut as she moans brokenly at the erotic image before her.

“What are you looking at?” His eyes widen for only a split second, like he can’t believe this is what’s got her clamping down on his cock every few seconds. He turns his head slightly and meets her pornographic expression in the mirror. Her eyes are half lidded and her mouth is parted. Her tongue drags lazily over her teeth with each rise and fall of her chest.

“You like watching, baby?” He watches as she breaks even further around his harsh thrusts. The smell of sex clouds her vision, fogs her conscience so much that she can only nod. “Like seeing yourself get fucked?”

He drags his thick cock out to the tip then slides back in, torturously slow. He does this a few times, angling and propping her up in such a way so that she sees the curve of his hard cock disappearing into her messy cunt.

“Go faster,” she pleads, unable to take her eyes away from it.

“You’re such a dirty girl, getting off on this. I had no idea you were such a lewd, filthy girl.” She cries out as she feels the spurt of her release rush to her core. This isn’t how she wants to come. Not when he’s being so slow and teasing. But she can’t help it. Can’t hold it in as she turns to mush in his arms. Her release squirts up onto his torso, soaking his skin in murky white fluids. She watches as rings of white, sticky cum gather at the base of his cock. And when he pushes too close, reaches all the way to her bruised cervix, her cum smears over her swollen sex.

“It feels so good,” she moans, wrapping her hands around his wrists tightly as he settles her down. Her legs are so shaky, and she can hardly support her weight.

“Not done with you yet,” he says, planting kisses on the top of her head. He guides her towards the counter, letting her brace herself against the cool marble, and coaxes her jaw up. “Look how messy you are, baby. So fucking beautiful for me like this.” He holds her chin between his fingers and watches her though the mirror as he plants kisses along her shoulder. Truly, her makeup is ruined. Her cheeks are wet and sticky. And her breasts are swollen, jiggling slightly as he grinds against her.

“Caleb,” she sighs, hanging her head low. Her arms are shaky, and each grind pushes her hips uncomfortably into the edge of the counter. Yet despite her exhaustive state her pussy is still pulsing for more. Seeing him behind her, almost engulfing her, makes her walls twitch and convulse. She bites her lip in embarrassment. “Wanna keep going…want you to cum in me.” She says this to spur him on. Knows that she’s biting off more than she can chew, but she doesn’t care. She reaches behind her and strokes his cock shallowly, guiding him towards her heat again.

He presses his hands against the counter’s edge where her hips meet, cushioning the blows as he bucks into her. His cock is so pent up and strained; and it swells up as she clamps down harshly on him. He’s not going to last long. Especially not now when he has a full view of her swollen breasts in the mirror, jerking with his every thrust. He desperately wants to tug at the plush flesh, bite at her nipples, even just wrap his tongue around it. But his hands are rendered immobile on the counter, and her comfort is prioritised above all else. Instead, he settles for biting into her shoulder and sucking the skin harshly. She can’t help the moans that spill out of her lips, hoarse and ragged. The particular angle of him rutting into her from behind is breaking her mind into pieces. She can feel him in her gut, fuck, she can hardly keep up as he knocks the breath out of her.

“Do you hear yourself?” Comes his taunting voice. Each moan sends a pulse straight to his cock. “Fuck, can you even think?” She manages to shake her head through her tears. She looks absolutely ruined.

“Feel so fucking mmph--feel so good.” She feels her release gush out of her without warning, splattering over his thighs and the floor. She’s never felt so sensitive in her life than she does now as he takes on a bruising pace towards the finish line. He’s breathing out so heavily into her air, groaning and whining her name. And she can only egg him on, crying out for his release. Demanding to be filled up.

His cock hardly leaves her cunt as he tries to push further in and in, balls flush against her ass. She feels him twitch before his warm come floods into her. It’s sticky and hot, and suddenly there’s a ringing in her ears. The feeling of being full, really full, has her gasping out against the mirror, body thrown over the counter. Her cunt is so sensitive, every trivial little shift of his body sets off another moan. Caleb slumps over her, careful not to lean his entire weight on her. He wraps his arms around her and lets her head rest back against his shoulder.

“Don’t pull out yet,” she mumbles, eyes closed.

“Don’t worry,” he coos, rubbing over her hips soothingly. “I’m not going anywhere.” She knows as soon as he pulls out, their mixed come is going everywhere. They stay there for a few minutes, the frantic rise and fall of their chests plateauing out into slow, even breaths.

“Are you okay, baby? I know I was rough with you.” She hums, the fog in her mind slowly clearing.

“I’m okay.” Regaining control over her body, she reaches up and strokes his arm. “That felt really, really good.”

“Yeah?” He kisses at her jaw. “Gonna clean you up now, okay?” She nods. “But,” he gives her a once over, pursing his lips, “I’m gonna have to pull out. Is that okay, baby?” She braces herself before giving another nod.

“Yeah, you can pull out. But, gently, please.” Upon her approval, he eases his cock out slowly, and sure enough, white fluid trickles out of her cunt and down her legs. She lets out a gasp at the heightened sensitivity of feeling so empty.

Caleb scoops her up and sits her back atop the counter. She leans against the mirror with a shy smile, watching him fiddle with the bottles beside her. He flips the cap of her makeup remover and lets some seep out onto a cotton pad.

“My beautiful girl.” He grins down at her, wiping gently across her cheeks. Blushing, she reaches up and brushes aside the hair falling into his eyes. His hair is damp now, seeped with sweat.

“My sweet, doting Caleb,” she echoes teasingly. He only laughs, getting a fresh wipe. He tips her jaw up slightly, dabbing cautiously around her waterline.

“Close your eyes for me, baby.” She does as she’s told, and feels the cold wipe on her skin. He takes extra care around her lashes and the corners of her eyes. When he’s done he leans back and tosses the used wipes in the bin.

When she opens her eyes, he’s holding out a jar in front of her.

“Want to use your cleanser now? Or after a shower, baby?” She giggles, chest filling with warmth.

“You can use it now.” He nods, twisting open the cleansing balm and taking a decent scoop out. Before he can set it down, she takes it, dipping her own fingers in.

“What,” he says through a laugh, “you’re gonna clean me up too?”

“Of course, dummy,” she quips, smoothing the balm between her hands. Once the balm is more pliable, she applies it evenly over his face. She rubs it into his skin with gentle, circular motions. “Like this,” she hums, the corners of her lips curling up into a smile. He watches, eyes rounded and gleaming in awe, and then he follows her direction, spreading the balm over her soft skin. Their arms brush against each other in their proximity.

As they settle into silence, she bites her lip.

“I really didn’t mean to make you worry, Caleb.” He looks up at her, fingers slowing down. She stays focused, though, smoothing the balm over his forehead. “I should’ve let you know I was going out.”

“Don’t stress about it now, baby. You’re here now, right?” He kisses the top of her head. “That’s all that matters.”

“I made you stay up late,” she says. She reaches over to the sink, letting the water run over her hands. Guiding him closer, she begins wiping the balm off then rinsing it down the sink.

“It’s nothing,” he reassures her. “Baby, don’t keep dwelling on it. It won’t happen again, right?” She shakes her head. “Then that’s all I need to know. I trust you.”

She stays still as he begins washing the balm off her face as well.

“Do you have to get up early tomorrow? It’s almost three…” He only shakes his head.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, baby. I’m all yours.” He pauses. “Well, technically, it is tomorrow.” She mirrors his grin, leaning down and capturing his lips. It’s gentle and slow.

He pulls away first, taking her arms and guiding her down off the counter.

“Come on, gotta shower first before you fall asleep on me.”

Okay, i wrote this ages ago and this was supposed to be part 2 of a Sylus fic where he does your makeup . lord give me the strength to finish it.

bruh when the deceptive solitude artwork came out, best believe i was fucking FROTHING at the mouth

#love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #lnds caleb #caleb #lads caleb #caleb x mc #caleb smut #smut #calebmc #caleb x you #caleb x reader

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qinche-cvmslvt · 4 months ago

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WEAR HEADPHONES

NSFW

2 minutes of Caleb fingering you and then fucking you.

Excluding bgm. All audio and sfx come from the game. No Ai. 🤤😏

#love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #lnds caleb #caleb smut #lads caleb

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kissandtellus · 1 day ago

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Mountin’ Mutts

Synopsis: Canine Hybrid!Caleb gets too rambunctious when in Rut. So Feline!Reader buys him a contraption to keep him under control!

Warning: Omegaverse, Hybrids, Knotting, Drooling, Muzzles, Smut, Sort of Mean!Caleb but MC is into it.

You’d grounded your mate from touching you. You still bore scarred marks from the last time Caleb was in rut.

He has been pining all night but he kept himself from dry humping your lower back. When he noticed you moving away, he whined into your neck.

His hand was resting on your waist and you can sense the tremble on it as he tried to control himself. He was doing his best to control the beast inside him because he really doesn’t want to hurt his mate. But the way he is panted into your neck, you could feel his body heat seep into your bones.

“Please,” he begged.

“No, Cal. You know why. C’mon, I said you can hold me but no more.” You huffed and tried squirming away. The summer night was already hot enough and the AC wasn’t doing much for his own overheated flesh.

He lets out a low, frustrated whimper at your refusal. His hands tightened around you, refusing to let you go even just for a moment.

His chest rumbled against your back as he spoke, his voice a hoarse disappointment. “Just let me…” he started, but his words trailed off, leaving them hanging, unspoken, charged with unexpressed desire.

You can truly sense how much he yearns for physical intimacy with you, how it's almost a physical ache within him.

The next morning is even worse, you have to peel yourself from him to fix breakfast, your ears on constant rotation to catch the noise of when he woke up.

You stand in the midst of the kitchen, fixing a shit ton of protein for him. Your ears twitch at the sound of him pulling himself from the bed. He’s standing in the doorway nearly too big. All muscle, over 200 pounds of pure strength wrapped in untamed desires.

“G’mornin’…” you murmured over your shoulder.

Caleb says nothing, but you can feel the floor quake under each step.

He wraps his arms around you from behind; his body pressed against you, the heat of him against your back a heady reminder of his state.

He knows he shouldn't push, but the desire is too strong to resist. He whispers in your ear, his voice low, “Just let me...please, pretty kitty. I need you…”

You sigh, fully prepared to push him off. But his hips twitch against your lower back, straining length stretching the fabric and…wet? Why was it-?

Oh. My. God.

“Caleb Xia, did you just cum on my back?!”

Caleb is groaning, whining, and still humping your back as the cum seeps through his boxers. “I’ll be good-s’ good! Please please please-

“Off.” The command is sharp, your tail between you rigid. He whines like you just kicked him but peels himself away,

You banish him to his at-home gym, tell him to work out his frustrations while you finish breakfast and head to the store.

He sulks at first, not wanting to leave your side, but after a few more stern words and narrowed feline eyes, he begrudgingly makes his way to the gym.

He works out intensely, trying to burn off the frustrations he feels. As he trains, his body glistens with sweat, his muscles flexing, his rut making him stronger than usual, his testosterone overbearing at this point.

You on the other hand, visit the tiny corner shop you and Caleb have visited a few times. It caters to Hybrids like yourself, owned by a Hybrid couple FOR people just like you.

The Bear Hybrid, husband of the owner, with his imposing tall build and lopsided grin, greets you with a hearty laugh. "Ah, if it isn't my favorite cat! What brings you here today?" His eyes sparkle with warmth, and there's a subtle hint of admiration behind his words.

The corner shop is a familiar haven for Hybrids like you, and the bear's genuine welcome always puts you at ease.

You grumble and pull your shirt off your shoulder just a bit so you can show off the vicious bite marks Caleb left during his last Rut. “Caleb is…a lot more bitey during his Ruts. I’m just looking for something that can help him. Got anything that’ll stop him from treating me like a chew toy?”

The Bear Hybrid lets out a hearty laugh at the sight of Caleb's bite marks on you. "That boy of yours sure does have a strong bite! Well, I might just have something that can help. Hold on, let me check in the back."

He disappears into the back of the shop, rummaging through various potions and remedies. A moment later, he returns with a metal contraption, he lays it on the counter with a soft clink.

A muzzle.

“It’s designed to prevent unnecessary biting during…uh, certain activities,” the Bear Hybrid explains casually, as though he was discussing the weather or last night's game.

He pushes it towards you. “It’ll prevent him from hurting you during his rut, but still allow you both to be close. Just don’t tell him it was my idea.” he adds with a wink.

You nervously walk back to the apartment with the paper bag in hand. Caleb is absolutely going to hate this, but he might hate remaining untouched during his Rut even more.

You slowly push open the door to hear whines, groans and the smell of raw Alpha in the air.

As you step into the apartment, you’re immediately hit with the raw, untamed scent of his rut. It hangs heavy in the air, an undeniable presence. His groans echo in the stillness, a symphony of suppressed desire. The smell alone is enough to stir something within you, a primal urge you've been trying to push down.

You hear him before you see him. He's lying on the ground, his body glistening with sweat from his workout.

But in his hands, is your crumpled used underwear, his salvia and…other fluids clinging to it.

When he notices you, he looks up, his eyes dark. There's no denying the wild hunger in them, a direct result of his rut. He tosses the underwear aside, his voice hoarse. "You're back. Please, pretty girl..."

When you pull out the muzzle, Caleb looks betrayed in a way. His tail tucks between his legs but there is a firm look in your eyes. “It’s the only way Caleb. Please?”

Caleb’s lip pulls back in a snarl and for a second, you think he might deny it. But then he steps closer and dips his head. You quickly slide it over his mouth, the leather straps rattling as you secure it fully.

“Good boy, how does that feel?” You take a step back and he gives his head a few firm shakes.

“It’s fine…I guess.” He huffs, jerking his head around. His massive body is tense like a coiled trap. Your lips curl up and you hold his cheek between your hands, hushing his angered huffs.

“Shhh, you’re doing well. Now-“ You step forward so your fingers press against his raging boner tenting his shorts. You nearly have to catch him in your arms when his knees buckle. He tries to press his face into his favorite place, the crook of your neck, but the metal bars keep him from your flesh.

“Can’t fuckin’ taste you.” He whines through clenched teeth. You giggle, just a light noise to thread your fingers with him.

You guide him to the safety of the bedroom. His scent bounces off the walls now fully surrounding you. “Stay.” You order, pointing in-front of you to the corner of the room. Caleb feels like his entire body nearly vibrate as you began to strip off your clothing. Your furry tail sprung up as you slide down your panties and shorts.

“Kitty-“

“Hush, enjoy the show.”

You soon stand bare before him, allowing his eyes to trail over each scar from the bites his fangs have left. He whines, heart aching. Another time he would kiss every bite as apology. But right now-

He wanted to give you more.

You crawl into the plush bed, enveloped in both of your scents. Your knees hit the bed and you press your chest to the soft comforter. You reach back, fingers grasping your cheeks before pulling them apart, exposing your holes like you were offering yourself on a silver platter.

When you look over your shoulder, Caleb’s shorts and tank top were tossed aside like trash. He’s panting, tongue out and all, drool seeping through the metal bars.

“C’mere.”

The command is so sudden it startles Caleb. But luckily he’s quick on his feet.

He’s bounding towards you like his life depended on it. He drops to his knees first, as if he’s ready to worship the most precious deity.

Caleb presses the end of his muzzle up against your dripping folds. He growls when the metal prevents him from tasting your sweet nectar that dribbled mere inches away.

He lets out a frustrated growl, the muzzle digging into your sensitive flesh as he tries to push past it to reach your center. His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he attempts to force his way in despite the barrier. "Nngh... Fuck this thing..."

You mewl and arch as the cool bars rub your most sensitive flesh. He knows theirs no use, but he’s too far gone now.

Drooling tongue gets so, so close to your aching folds but falls too short. That’s when you notice them.

The thick tears welled up in those pretty violet eyes. He’s so desperate. You’ve been edging him for the past two days, refusing to let him have you because of a few (in his opinion) stupid marks.

How else was he supposed to let the other males know you had a big, scary looking dog at home who stretched your pussy so good you saw stars?

He lets out a frustrated groan, his claws digging into the sheets as he fights the urge to rip the muzzle off. Instead, he starts rubbing his snout vigorously against your clit through the metal grille, trying to stimulate you indirectly. His tail thrashes angrily behind him. "Please…”

Your body acts accordingly, slick beginning to drip down your thighs in response. “G-good boy.”

The praise sends a shiver down his spine. He redoubles his efforts, the snout of the muzzle rubbing faster and harder against your clit. His own arousal is obvious, his cock throbbing and leaking against your thigh where it's trapped between your bodies. “M’ Good, s’ good for ya.”

He’s a mess, leaking down your leg, the end of the muzzle now covered in your slick and his saliva. You take a shuddering breath and reach back to grab his arm. “U-up! Mount!”

At your command, he immediately scrambles up to mount you. His large, muscular frame overshadows you as his wet cock slides across your sticky mound.

The muzzle makes his breathing heavy and loud, but he can't help the muffled whine that escapes him as he slowly pushes forward, his angry cockhead stretching you open inch by inch.

It never gets easier taking such a beefy part of the canine Hybrid. His chin rests on your shoulder as he bullies inch by inch inside, stretching out the gummy walls that try to suck him in forever.

His slick thighs try to find purchase against your body but it fails the first couple of times. He begins pleading with you to loosen up, begging you not to choke him out.

His pleas grow more desperate as he tries to thrust deeper but keeps slipping out because of your stubborn hold. His nails carefully scratch at your sides, trying to coax your muscles to relax. "Nngh! Please... Open more...I’ll be so good to ya…”

Slowly but surely your natural slick drips around his girth and he can finally bottom out. He swears he might cum, might blackout right then and there.

The cold of the metal makes tiny indentions on your shoulder as he begins a desperate pace. There isn’t really a rhyme or reason to his thrust, the initial few pumps have your head reeling.

“Feel so good kitty-mmn fuck, fuck you feel so gooood~!” He’s a man deprived now. He grabs your hips to lift you ever so gently off the bed before pounding your guts like they owe you money. Your claws tear at the sheets when you try to find something to keep you grounded.

Caleb’s head is thrown back, the muzzle doing its job. But it can’t stop the flinging drool that drips from his dirty mouth. Pieces of saliva collect on the space between your shoulder blades when he curls himself around your arch.

“Pussy feels so good! C-can’t believe you tried keepin’ her from me.” He’s snarls.

He can feel the base of his cock starting to swell. His jaw snaps inside of the muzzle that pressed right against your swollen heat gland. His instincts are bitter, wanting nothing more than to make you bleed for making him wait so long.

Your ears pivot at the sound of his snarl and he catches the sight in his peripheral. One clawed hand encircles your tail, giving a light pull that sends a hiss from your throat.

“Think you’re so much better than this big dumb dog? All high and mighty, not lettin’ me mark ya? Afraid I’ll scare away those prissy fuckin’ cat suitors I see watchin’ ya?”

“F-fuckin’ mutt! So big, n cock is so big! D-don’t even think about how much it hurts!” You hiss out, ears flattened despite your tail folded against your spine as your body takes him over and over, tears of pleasure and frustration spilling down your cheeks.

Caleb’s eyes roll back at the way your walls spasm around his throbbing cock. “Yeahhhh, yeah you love this mutt’s big cock. Want me to give you all the fucking pups huh? Say it.”

His hand grasps your jaw, angling your head back and- “Fuck! Fuck yeah, want your pups. Pleasepleaseple-“

Caleb’s jaws flex, his snarl overpowering your moans. You barely comprehend the sound of tearing leather before his teeth fasten around your shoulder. His knot pops in and he balances on his haunches as he pumps load after load.

“FUCK! Fuck Caleb, ow-“

He gives his head a warning whip, daring you to try to push him away. Your cries die down to whimpers as you come down from your own high, a frothy mix dribbling down your inner thighs.

Blood trickles down your shoulder and onto the once clean bedsheets. You know you should hiss, should scratch and claw at him. But when the remains of the broken muzzle falls beside you on the bed-

“Oh f-“

Caleb has you sprawled out on the bed like a used white. He hasn’t stopped apologizing while he’s cleaned the wounds he’s left and the cum leaking out of your well used entrance.

You don’t have the strength to fight him off when he decides his tongue is the best cleaning tool for your pussy.

“Mm sorry Kitty. I’ll take care of you.”

Caleb crawls next to you but not before grabbing the broken muzzle and tossing it across the room like an unloved toy. “But if you ever put a muzzle on me again, I’ll fuck you through the wall.”

Was that a threat? Or was he flirting?

Knowing Caleb? Probably both.

640 notes · View notes

cityselcouth · 3 months ago

Text

for research purposes

pairing: caleb x reader

summary: how on earth were you supposed to write a good sex scene with almost zero experience? good thing your best friend was always willing to lend you a helping hand.

themes: childhood best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, friends with benefits, college! au, slowburn, humour, fluff, angst, petnames, profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, explicit sexual content (oral fem receiving, fingering, nipple play, protected + unprotected sex, clothed sex), porn with so much plot, they're both down bad asf

word count: 25k

lyns notes: its been so long since i've written a full length fic like this, and it ended up being so much longer than I anticipated but please don't get scared by the wc 😭 its so self indulgent because i love caleb and I had way too much fun writing this so I hope you enjoy! <3

This was utterly insane, even for you.

The idea started small, though you supposed you couldn’t ever classify it as innocent. At the time, it had been just a flicker, a fleeting thought that slipped through the cracks of your composure. You were in your best friend's dorm, lounging on his bed like it was your own as you complained.

“I’ve been stuck for weeks now. It’s like I’ve lost the ability to write.”

Caleb glanced over at you from his desk, leaning back in his plush chair as the movement of his fingers over the laptop keyboard stilled for a moment. The expression you received was familiar, you had been on the receiving end of it for years now. One of his lips quirked up, deep lavender eyes alight with amusement, and one eyebrow raised as he took in your anguished state.

“You haven’t lost the ability to write, Pipsqueak, it's just writer's block. You’ve had writer's block before.”

“Not like this.” You shook your head, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them. “I usually manage to overcome it in a week or so. It’s been like, three months.” Your annoyance with yourself was obvious to him, so clear in the slight pout on your mouth paired with that indignant expression.

It was true, you had been writing ever since you were little. Your imagination ran wild as a child, even before you could physically write, you would spin tales and make up stories to entertain yourself with, frequently getting lost in your own little world. You prided yourself on this talent of yours that helped you breeze through English essays and writing assignments, even going so far as to major in English at university. Writing was your bread and butter. It was more than just being good at it, it was the passion and fulfilment you felt when you did it.

Passion and fulfillment your ass, you couldn’t feel any of that right now.

You were writing a book, your very first one that you started penning in the summer before your sophomore year. The idea had come to you out of nowhere, and once you spent hours outlining all the details, you were certain it was something you wanted to bring to life. The need to finish it burned through you as you spent most of that break stuck at your desk, hunched over your laptop. Caleb had to quite literally drag you out of your room most days, muttering some nonsense about vitamin D and too much screen time.

He had always been like that ever since you were kids – protective, caring, attentive. It was built into his very being, you supposed, ever since he saw you cry outside the first-grade classrooms as a seven-year-old and promised to help you find your way to the correct one. Even now, as he hummed in thought, offering silent support for your frustration.

“You’ve gotten through a large chunk of it, right?”

“Yep.”

A slow, bargaining smile stretched out on his face. “Hey, you know, maybe if you let me read it–”

“Hell no.” You shook your head stubbornly. “I told you, I’m only letting you read it once it's finished, and I think it’s good enough.”

Caleb snorted, “So you mean never?”

You promptly threw one of the plushies on his bed at him. He deftly caught it, laughter slipping from him as he threw it back. The plushy was a grumpy apple one that he had won you back home at the arcade, but the pile of plushies on your bed was so huge that you graciously suggested that he keep it for you. Partial custody, you had joked, I have visitation rights.

“You’ll be the first to read it. I just….need to get through this one bit.”

Ah yes, the bit. The part that you seemed to be cursed to never finish. Everything before it had gone so smoothly, the words flowing and pouring out of you so perfectly. A fun romance novel full of twists and humour was what you aimed to achieve, and it seemed like you were succeeding.

That was, until you reached a part of the story that you truly had no idea how to write. The technicalities of it were.…..unknown at best, to you, who had almost no experience in the matter.

“You know, maybe you could tell me about it. Maybe I could help.” You knew the offer was genuine. Caleb had always been someone you could fall back upon for any assistance. Being two years older than you, in your eyes, he always knew what to do when you were in a pickle. He was the type of friend who placed bandages on your scrapes and offered you candy so you’d stop crying. He carried a hair tie around for when you wanted to tie your hair and helped you study for tests, and explained the concepts that you didn’t understand. Every time you had a problem, he never hesitated to help you in any way he possibly could.

But this….this was something you’d rather die than ask him about.

Immediately, you shook your head a little too quickly, shooting him a tight smile. “Nope, it's fine. Just something I gotta figure out myself.

He stared at you skeptically but shrugged. “Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

You wouldn’t.

Would you?

Absolutely not. Even thinking about it felt like a betrayal. It was like opening a can of worms that held snakes. Deadly venomous ones.

And yet here you were, your teeth digging into the plush of your lower lip as he turned back to his laptop screen, continuing to work on whatever assignment he had due. He was in his final year and was infinitely busy, though he somehow still managed to make time for you.

Shamelessly, your eyes studied him. His arms, so well defined and firm-looking, were basically on display for you when he wore that white, sleeveless tee. Dark hair, unruly and messy, no matter how many times you ran your fingers through it in an attempt to fix it. A defined jawline that could probably cut you if you dared touch it. He had grown up unfairly well, no longer the lanky young boy you once knew, now a man. A hot man you had incredible chemistry with.

A very hot man who was completely off-limits.

Still. You supposed that his help couldn’t be the worst thing in the world–

A sex scene. That was what you were struggling to right. In terms of the story, it was a very natural next move for your characters, and it made sense, and while you could simply artistically describe the ordeal and fade to black, you felt it was a necessary addition. You wanted to showcase the desperation the two characters felt for each other, just how deep their feelings ran through something more primal. You wanted it to feel right, to feel magical.

The issue? You hadn’t the faintest idea of how to go about it. In all your nineteen years of life, you had only had sex once, and it had been far from magical. It had been uncomfortable and rushed, the result of a very stupid, drunken one-night stand in your first year. The guy very evidently didn’t know how a woman's body worked, and even thinking back on it made you cringe and fold in on yourself. If it were possible to manually pluck the memory out and destroy it, you would have done it in a heartbeat.

So how on earth were you supposed to write the perfect sex scene when your one sole experience in the matter had been so terrible?

And you couldn’t ask Caleb for help. Even considering doing so made you feel as if you would spontaneously combust. He was your best friend, for crying out loud, and this crossed so many lines. You knew very well that he wasn’t a virgin by any means, having caught glimpses of the occasional hickey on his neck despite his best efforts to hide it from you. He was twenty-one, experienced and could probably talk you through it–

Nope. Not going here.

The idea of Caleb explaining sex to you was mortifying. You didn’t want to hear about any of his conquests, even just the thought of him talking about it made you want to throw up. The notion of him having sex only made your cheeks warm and your throat go uncomfortably dry.

Against your will, the thought festered. It burrowed its way into your mind and settled there as if it belonged, despite its having no business being there. This was completely unethical, but before you could stop yourself, your gaze zeroed in on his tongue darting out of his mouth, licking his lips in concentration as he typed out something. For a second, you wondered how it would feel if he dragged that tongue across the skin of your neck.

Oh my god. What if he simply showed you?

The moment that depraved idea popped into your head, you shot up, getting to your feet with urgency. Startled, he looked over at you, frowning at the alarmed look on your face.

“Are you good?”

“I’m great!” Your voice sounded funny, like you were trying to digest a rock. “I just– er– remembered I have some homework to finish for tomorrow. So I should get back to my room.” You padded over to his door, slipping into your shoes and waving at him. “See ya.”

“....Bye.” He watched your awkward, rushed movements with a puzzled look on his (very nice) face.. You nodded curtly before opening the door and escaping the confines of his dorm, out of his scrutinising gaze that could read you annoyingly well. Another minute in there and you knew he would be grilling you for your odd behaviour.

Jesus Christ. You were so screwed.

“Y/n? Girl, you gotta get your head in the game.”

Tara’s voice cut through your reverie, causing you to snap out of it. One glance up at her would reveal an unimpressed look directed at you, her hands on her hips. “Our darling editor wants to know why your article isn’t on her desk yet.”

Tara was your closest friend after Caleb, and you had met her when you joined the university paper as a student journalist. She was smart, pretty and always had your back no matter what. Blinking rapidly, you sighed, waving your hand.

“Tell Jenna I’ll have it there by the end of the day.”

“You better. You know how she is about deadlines.” Tara pulled one of the chairs from the desk beside yours closer and sat on it, resting her elbows on the armrests. “Seriously, though, why are you spaced out today?”

Well, there was no way you could tell her the truth about that. So you resorted to using a half-truth as an answer. “Writer's block.”

“Ah.”

You turned back to the screen of your computer, staring at the article you had been writing. It was almost finished, thank god. At least here, you had the facts to write around, having done your research. Very different to the situation you found yourself in regarding your stupid book.

Ugh.

“By the way, your boyfriend’s here.”

Your head snapped up at her words, already ready to argue, knowing exactly who she was talking about. Walking into the newsroom holding two coffees was Caleb, wearing that blue-orange jacket that you had bought him for one of his birthdays. He did this pretty often, sauntering in like he owned the place even though he was technically not allowed to be there. Jenna had repeatedly reminded him of this, but he brushed it off, and after a while, she simply stopped bothering. Thus, despite not being on the paper, he spent a lot of time in the newsroom.

This was another problem you faced daily: people mistaking him for your boyfriend. The number of times you had to rehash the fact that he was simply your best friend was astounding, and back when you were a freshman, the constant whistles about you dating an upperclassman– and none other than Caleb Xia– drove you mad. You chalked it down to none of them being fortunate enough to experience a friendship as fulfilling and real as the one you had with him.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You dropped your voice, keeping it just loud enough for her to hear your rebuttal that held a hint of venom, plastering a smile on your face as he closed in. Tara snickered.

“Sure, and I’m the queen of England.”

“Hey,” Caleb grinned down at you, his eyes momentarily flitting to your friend. “And what?”

“Nothing,” you said brightly, shooting her a murderous look that silently told her to zip it. She smiled innocently and shook her head, slipping back to her desk without another word.

“She’s an odd one,” he quipped, handing you one of the coffees and then shrugging off the jacket, dumping it on the free space on your desk. You already knew it was your regular order, something he had memorised years ago. You sipped the drink, letting the hot liquid calm you down, grateful for the caffeine. You hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, spending it tossing and turning in your bed.

And why was that?

Caleb leaned against your desk. “Are you free later today?”

A dejected sigh escaped you. “Unfortunately, no. I need to finish this article by the end of the day, and it seems like my writer's block has infected every aspect of my life.” It was ironic, just how true that statement ran.

“Damn.” You could hear the tinge of disappointment in his voice. “I was hoping we would have movie night. I stocked up on your favourite candy.” He reached over, his fingers brushing against the skin of your forehead as he pushed some of your hair that fell in front of your eyes away from your face, neatly tucking it behind your ear like it was second nature. It was, you supposed, considering he had done so about a hundred times.

But something was different this time, or perhaps you were paying far too much attention to every little thing. To how he pulled back and the way the muscles in his forearm shifted subtly, making you wish he had kept the jacket on. The brief touch lingered on your skin, burned into it.

Fucking hell, you were a mess. A tragic, down-atrocious mess.

Your eyes lingered on his fingers for a moment. Heat crept up your neck, and you coughed, rubbing it absent-mindedly, hoping to push down the flush you felt taking over your body. It had been like this ever since the day in his dorm when your brain had decided to work against you and infect you with the thought of sex with your best friend.

What better way was there to describe your state than calling it an infection? It certainly felt like some sort of sickness with the way it plagued you against your will. Somehow, it was worse than the doomed crush you had harboured for him back when you were in high school, because at least that had been innocent. That was born out of pure admiration, and you were sixteen. A lot of things done at sixteen could be brushed off under the excuse of being young and naive. You had quickly gotten over it.

You were evidently no longer so naive. In fact, you knew too much.

“Maybe next time.” You managed to choke out finally after a silence that had stretched a beat too long. Part of you hoped he’d leave you alone now so that you could calm down and refocus your attention to the article.

But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he occupied the chair Tara previously had, complaining about one of his classes as you nodded along, sipping your coffee and glancing between him and your screen. The smooth cadence of his voice usually soothed you and calmed you down, but now it only put you on edge, flowing over scrambled thoughts like honey. Had his arms always been this nice?

You were going to hell.

All things considered, you held yourself to certain standards. You were a woman with morals and integrity, and you were not in the habit of staring at shirtless men.

Except when it was Caleb, apparently.

“Why are you half-naked?” You blurted out gracelessly, heat viciously curling up your body as your eyes dropped down to his torso. You gripped the Chinese takeout you had gotten on your way back from your evening class a little tighter as you took in his figure. A silver chain with a tag and apple pendant (something you had given him before he left for university while you were still struggling in high school) on his bare chest and perfect sculpted abs, running shorts hanging low on his hips.

“I was working out.” He said casually, taking the bag of takeout from your hands and walking back into his dorm, leaving you to follow him. You bit down on your tongue hard, almost hoping you’d draw blood.

This was ridiculous. You had seen him shirtless several times before and had never reacted like this. The other times hadn’t caused you to flush and definitely didn’t cause your heart rate to spike. It didn’t have you furiously fighting off thoughts that had threatened to consume you for over a week now, pushing them back into the furthest parts of your mind and locking them there.

“I’m almost done, could you grab sodas from the fridge?” Caleb placed the food on the table beside his bed. You wordlessly complied, picking the apple-flavoured sodas that both of you liked. Turning back to the main area of his dorm, you walked over, only to stop dead in your tracks.

Caleb was on the floor. Doing push-ups.

There was nothing inherently sexual about it in the slightest. You knew he liked to stay in shape, hitting the gym at least thrice a week to maintain his physique– a very nice physique that seemed to be your current undoing. His hair fell across his forehead, a little matted from sweat. You watched as he pressed down and back up, and in a moment of weakness, you wondered how it would be if you were under him instead of standing to the side and ogling like an idiot. Would his necklace dangle above you, swinging back and forth in your face?

Dear god. You needed to be sedated. Put down, even.

Finally, he seemed to be done, lowering himself down and then rolling onto his back. He sucked in a breath of hair, running his hands through his hair and messing it up even further. Finally, he sat up and looked up at you, a singular eyebrow raised.

“Why are you just standing there?”

Brilliant question. If only you could answer it.

Choosing to skillfully evade instead, you tossed him his soda can and grabbed his laptop from his desk, settling down next to him on the floor. Tonight, the two of you had decided to have dinner together and catch up on an anime you had started together a couple of weeks ago. It had been a while since you had properly hung out, and you knew damn well that it was all your fault.

You were avoiding him. Mentally and physically, especially physically. Caleb, however, being the understanding, saint of a man that he was, chalked it up to you being busy. He made sure to check in on you, shooting you texts or sending you funny videos he knew you’d like.

“We should try and finish all the episodes up until the latest one,” You said, opening up his laptop and logging into the anime site. “They released a new one on Wednesday.”

Caleb hummed, stretching his arms as he shuffled closer. Immediately, you froze, the close contact inciting pure panic within you. Jerking away from him, you glared, holding a hand out to keep an arm's distance between the two of you, much to his confusion.

“Put on a shirt.”

He frowned. “Why? It’s really hot.”

Indeed, it was. “Exactly. You’re all sweaty and gross.”

You really shouldn’t have said that. The moment the words left your mouth, his mouth curled into a smirk– one so disgustingly attractive that you were sure your knees would have probably buckled if you weren’t already sitting down– and his eyes lit up with a mischievous glint that told you he was up to no good. Carefully, he wrapped a hand around your wrist, and the contact has your brain short-circuiting and going into overdrive.

“I think that means you want a hug.”

“Wait– don’t you dare– Caleb!” You yelped as he tugged you harshly, forcing you to fall into his lap, his laughter resounding through the small dorm room. Awkwardly, you shoot your other hand out to steady yourself, placing it on his shoulder as you tumble into him, knee slotting in between his legs and body so dangerously close to his that you wanted to scream. Smoothly, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, circling it and somehow tugging you even closer, until you were flush against him.

“What are you gonna do now, Pips?” He taunted, voice just above a whisper right against your ear.

Unicorns, you bleakly thought to yourself. Puppies. Cupcakes. Sprinkles.

“You’re so annoying,” You hissed, throwing as much irritation into your voice as you possibly could in the hopes that it would drown out the shakiness you felt. His skin under your fingertips was warm, and you could feel that warmth through the fabric of your tank top. “Go fuck yourself.”

He laughed harder, the sound so contagious it broke you out of your downright sinful thoughts. You gripped his shoulder a little harder, mentally chastising yourself for the situation you found yourself in, knowing that there was no good reason for you to be this riled up. Playfighting with him was something you were used to; it was natural. It should not have had your blood pressure rising and heart slamming in your chest so violently.

Swallowing thickly, you barely processed how he let go of your wrist, his other arm also coming to rest around your waist as he pulled you further into his lap so that you were now sitting on top of him. Before you even had the chance to react to that, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled.

“Missed you this week,” He mumbled softly against your rapidly heating skin. You froze for a split second at the contact, hopelessly blaming the flush spread over your cheeks on the humid weather.

And then you softened.

Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck as you hugged him back. “I missed you too,” You whispered, following up with a lie to keep him off your trail. “Just had a lot of work.”

“I know,” he said so patiently that you instantly felt guilty. He lifted his face from your neck so that he could stare at you, and it hit you just how intimate the position the two of you were in was. Although reserved with others, Caleb had always been pretty openly affectionate with you. His hand on the small of your back, fingers intertwined with yours, a light kiss to your temple in encouragement– he had been doing stuff like that to you since you were ten.

So why did it suddenly affect you so much? Why did something so normal for you make you feel so different now?

“Just….tell me about it,” he continued, those mesmerising purple eyes of his locked onto yours. “Shoot me a text. Let me know what's up with you. Don’t you remember the last time you shut everyone out because you were stressed?”

You did remember. It was during your finals last year, when the workload you had overwhelmed you so badly that you simply pushed everyone away until they were over. Caleb had to practically storm his way back into your life and demand that you take a break and slow down before you worked yourself to the bone. The fact that he remembered this only made your guilt worse because your distance this time had nothing to do with your classwork.

It had everything to do with him, though.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled, slowly slipping out of his embrace and settling down next to him once again. You had to remind yourself of what he was to you, and all this thirsting for him was neither healthy nor something a good best friend would do. “I’m not gonna do that again.”

“I’m just saying. And what the hell am I supposed to do with my free time if you’re not here to bother me?” He flashed you that shit-eating grin of his that you were starting to think was more devastating than mischievous.

You had to resist strangling him.

There was only one possible conclusion: something was deeply wrong with you.

How else were you supposed to explain your borderline insane behaviour? It had gotten even worse lately, causing you to daydream at the most inconvenient times, like when you were trying to get an assignment done or even in the middle of class. It was a wonder your professors hadn’t called you out for it yet.

Some level of restraint seemed to remain, though, with you stopping your thoughts from crossing any lines. The moment you caught your mind straying into dangerous territory, you forced yourself to stop, desperately searching for another distraction.

But there was only so much you could do. Thinking was proving to be a dangerous activity.

You pressed your palms into your eyes, hard. It was almost three in the morning, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Earlier, you had tried to write around the damned scene, but emerged fruitless. It was like an obstacle you had to clear before you could get to the next level of a game, taunting you with its incompletion.

Something else taunted you, simmering underneath the expanse of your skin. Things that hadn’t even happened yet, but you had already dreamed of them– his mouth on yours, his hands tracing your body with a feather touch.

You were even wearing one of his shirts right now, the oversized tee reaching down to your mid-thighs. Several, just like the one you currently wore, sat neatly in your closet, having been stolen from him over the years. You could faintly smell his cologne; cidery and comforting, enveloping you in what felt like it could be his embrace. Turning onto your side, you pulled the blanket over your body and stared at the wall blankly.

Caleb had been your safe space for so long, and perhaps that was why you gravitated so easily to thinking about him like this. If there was anyone you trusted in such an intimate sense, it was him.

Even if it shouldn’t have been.

God knows you needed to get laid. Unfortunately, you didn’t want just anyone.

You swore you had never been this horny before, least of all for your best friend. Thinking about him in such a salacious way was strictly a new development that was quickly ruining your life, haunting you day and night. Even now, lying in your bed, heat that was impossible to ignore bloomed between your legs.

Maybe if you just indulged once, this madness would stop. Maybe you just needed an orgasm, and then you’d stop going insane over every single interaction you had with Caleb. It didn’t even have to be about him, and this was normal; everyone needed a release now and then.

Your fingers slipped between your legs, pushing the fabric of his shirt up, tracing the outline of your cotton underwear. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let your fingertips gently graze against where you needed them most, letting your legs fall apart just a little bit–

Deep purple eyes flashed behind your closed eyes.

Gasping, you retracted your hand like you had been burned. There was no way in hell you could touch yourself with him in mind; that was everything you had been avoiding for the past three weeks, ever since the notion had first sprouted. Groaning, you buried your face into the pillow.

This had to have been the stupidest cause of insomnia ever.

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : i better see u at the party tonight :D

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : will pick u up at 9

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : no buts.

Caleb supposed that this was technically his fault.

Mentally, he had already prepared for this outcome. It was why he had barely drunk the entire night, barely finishing two drinks and opting out of playing beer pong with the rest of his friends, despite Gideon's need for another member on his team.

“Come on, Pipsqueak.” He had an arm around your waist to help steady you, ensuring you wouldn’t fall flat on your face. You stumbled into the elevator, and he jammed the number of your dorm floor as you wrapped your arms around his torso weakly, leaning into him. Right now, he was the only thing keeping you upright.

You were drunk, slurring your words and unable to walk in a straight line without any assistance type of drunk. And yes, this was his fault.

Probably. Definitely.

One of the frat houses had thrown a party, and he had insisted that you come with him. He had always been great at reading you, and for the last couple of weeks, you had seemed tense over something, though you hadn’t told him what exactly it was yet. That was fine, he knew that eventually you’d spill, but for now, all he wanted to do was help you let loose.

That was exactly what he told you to do when both of you arrived at the party, even pouring you your first drink. Halfway through the party, you seemed more relaxed than you had in the last couple of days, swaying along to the music by his side. He made sure not to drink too much, wanting to be sober enough to safely get you back to your dorm just in case you overdid it.

His intuition always ended up being right when it came to you.

You whined as the elevator dinged, the doors opening. “Everything is spinning.”

“I know, honey, we’re almost there.” He helped you walk into the hallway, smoothly taking your handbag from you and extracting your keys. Holding you tighter, he opened the door and pulled you through, carefully seating you down on your bed and taking your boots off.

Like clockwork, he grabbed a bottle of water from your bedside table, unscrewed it and held it to your cherry-tinted lips. You only used that specific lip-tint when you were going out, and each time you did, he found himself wondering if it tasted like cherry as well. Even now, as he gently propped his index finger under your chin and tilted your face upwards, he entertained the idea of tasting it for himself.

But he wouldn’t.

“Drink up,” He said softly, “You’re gonna have a nasty hangover tomorrow.”

Obediently, you parted your lips, drinking with his help. Your cheeks were flushed due to the alcohol, hair a little frizzy from the heat, but still maintaining the styling you had done before the party. To him, you looked stunning at all times, but he could see the effort you had put in to look nice tonight, from your outfit (a black halter top and jeans) to your makeup, which he knew he’d have to help you take off now.

Once he deemed the amount of water you had drunk enough, he put the bottle back and went into your bathroom, knowing exactly where to find your makeup wipes. He had taken care of you like this once before, so his body moved like clockwork. There was no point in trying to get you to the bathroom– you’d probably just sit down on the floor and stay there for the rest of the night– so he took the wipes with him and crouched down in front of where you sat on your bed.

Smiling, he held your face again, this time a little firmer. “You’d hate yourself if you went to sleep before you took your makeup off,” he whispered, pulling one of the wipes out and dragging it over the apples of your face. Then, he glanced up and into your eyes, noting how you stared at him so keenly, even through a half-lidded gaze, lips slightly parted.

If Caleb could’ve kept your attention on him like this for the rest of his life, he would have.

“What's going through that head of yours?” He cocked his head to the side, studying your intent expression. Immediately, you looked away, but he wasn’t going to back down. Something had been troubling you, and he was determined to find out what. If you wouldn’t tell him outright, he would simply have to guess. “Is it your book, again?”

Your inebriated state made it hard for you to hide things from him. You stiffened in his touch, and he chuckled. “Bingo. You know, if you just told me what you were struggling with, I’d help.” He pressed your chin lightly, angling your face downwards. “Close your eyes.” He gently wiped over your eye makeup, making sure it was all off before continuing. “I know I’m not a writer, but I’m sure I'll be of some value.”

Finally done, he neatly folded the dirty wipe and placed it to the side. “Want some more water? Alcohol is dehydrating.”

And then, out of nowhere, you spoke.

“Sex.”

Well, blurting would probably be a better way to describe how you said the word. Caleb blinked rapidly, wondering if he had heard you correctly as his face snapped back to yours, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Sex.” You slurred a little bit as you leaned closer to him, jutting your lower lip out in a pout and repeating it once more for good measure. “Sex.”

“I heard you the first time,” Caleb could hear how strangled his voice was, unable to think straight at your sudden declaration. Oblivious to his mental distress, you thrust out your hand and pointed at the laptop that sat on your desk with drunken animosity.

“I can’t write a stupid sex scene.”

You sounded so crestfallen, and he would have totally started sympathising with you if not for the reason. A sex scene? What on earth were you writing?

“I–” He swallowed, “Well–”

“I mean, how am I supposed to write a good sex scene if I don’t know what good sex feels like? Or what even like, happens?” Alcohol had certainly loosened you up, and perhaps a bit too much, having erased any filter that you had. This resulted in you rambling on about everything you would have usually kept to yourself, and for good reason. “The sex I’ve had has been shitty.”

The sex you’ve had? Caleb almost bit his tongue off in shock, staring at you incredulously at the information you had dumped on him. He hadn’t even known you had been having sex, and thank every god for that, because he would have probably jumped off a cliff if you ever talked about your sex life with him. Surely, this was some sort of twisted fever dream he had found himself in. This could not have been real life.

“Christ,” He choked out, “I–okay, maybe I can’t help you–”

“Yeah, you can.” Your eyes cut to his, a little too intense for his sanity. “If you fucked me, I’d probably be able to write the scene.”

He gaped at you, about a dozen inappropriate thoughts running through his head before he could stop it. “What did you just say?”

Teenage Caleb would have died if he had heard you say that. Adult Caleb nearly did.

You sighed heavily, and it only succeeded in causing him to spiral even more. “I thought about it. I’m sure it would be good, y’know. You’d know what you were doing, you even look like you’re good at it.”

“You’re so drunk.” He tried to reason with himself out loud, but could hardly recognise his voice with how strained he sounded. Looked like he was good at it? What alternate dimension had he just fallen into?

“Oh, come on, Caleb. I need some hands-on learning, and you–” you slurred the words as you leaned close and wrapped your hands around his bicep, peering up at him through your lashes. “–have very nice hands. They’re hot.”

You, his best friend, his pipsqueak, had thought about sleeping with him. You thought his hands were hot. The news nearly killed him, and he had to force himself to look away from you, his mind running at a mile a minute. Heat prickled at his face and neck, impossible to ignore as he cleared his throat and stood to his feet, pulling away from your touch.

“You should sleep.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, stepping away from you. “I–I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was as if he were going through puberty all over again, with the way his voice cracked embarrassingly as he spoke. He left your room hurriedly, barely getting his shoes back on as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

Caleb exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the back of his head hit your door. All these years of barely keeping it together around you, carefully tiptoeing between right and wrong, only for you to come and crash into whatever self-restraint he had left.

Right and wrong.

All of a sudden, he wasn’t sure if he was going to choose correctly anymore.

Death had to have been more merciful than the pounding in your head. Grabbing the covers, you pulled them over yourself like a cocoon, trying your hardest to block out all noises and sink even further into your mattress.

Unfortunately, your hangover-induced headache made it nearly impossible for you to go back to sleep. Cursing, you forced yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up and change out of your clothes and into something more comfortable. Naturally, you gravitated towards an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts, pulling them on after a quick shower.

Then, you went right back to your bed, not wanting to face the day in the slightest. You had managed to resist throwing up so far, and even the thought of having to function like a normal human being made you recoil into your blanket and stay there for the rest of the week. Just as you began to genuinely entertain that notion, a sharp knock at your door caught your attention.

You would have ignored it if you didn’t know the pattern of this knock by heart. No one but Caleb knocked twice in sequence.

Cursing under your breath, you scrambled to the door and opened it, squinting as the bright light of the hallway outside nearly blinded you. There he stood, grinning down at you as he held up a paper bag.

“Aspirin.”

“Thank god,” you immediately let him in, taking the medicine from him and pouring yourself a glass of water. He stood right behind you as you took the pill, ruffling your already messy hair and staring for just a second too long.

“Bad morning, huh?”

“You have no idea.” You winced at the whiny nature of your voice. “It feels like my head is trying to stab itself.”

Caleb chuckled dryly, sitting down on your bed and watching as you settled at your desk and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to smooth out the knots. Something was different about the way he was looking at you, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“You’ll be fine,” He muttered, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. You frowned, taking in the way his jaw ticked, and placed your glass of water down.

“Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.” He said it a little too brightly, glancing down at your desk. Something flickered in his eyes. “Made any progress on that book of yours?”

A frustrated sound left you buried your face in your hands, elbows on your desk. The reminder of your stagnant writing somehow worsened your headache, as if that was even possible. Of course he’d bring that up. “As usual, no.”

For a while, you had hoped that inspiration would strike you eventually, but it seemed like you were well and truly stuck. It had only taken a turn for the worse, with you suddenly despising everything you had already written, unable to even skim any of it without cringing and wanting to hit delete. Your inability to write had morphed into impostor syndrome, which was a development you didn’t appreciate in the slightest.

“It’s okay,” he said, and you would have mistaken his tone for reassuring if not for the way his lips twitched slightly. “I’m sure you’ll be able to write eventually. After you fuck me, apparently.”

Silence.

Razor-sharp silence.

Slowly, you turned your head to face him, eyes wide as saucers. “What….did you just say?”

“Only what you said last night. You said you were sure it would be good, which I beg to differ. It would be amazing, thank you very much.” He dared to smile oh-so innocently, as if he hadn’t just upgraded the superlative of what sex with him would potentially be like.

If you thought you were going to throw up before, you were sure you were going to now. You almost choked on your spit, waves of unadulterated shock crashing through your system as you gawked at your best friend, who appeared much too pleased with himself at the moment. If you weren’t so utterly horrified, you would have tried to slap the smug expression right off of his face.

“No.” The singular word comes out breathless, much to your mortification, your gut churning at the implications of that statement. “No, no, no–”

“Oh yes,” He grinned wickedly, leaning back on the palms of his hands.

“What–what the fuck did I drink last night.” You tried your levity, but your embarrassment ran too deep. Reaching up, you covered your face with your hands in a pathetic attempt to hide away from him. Never, in a million years, had you ever accounted for having this conversation with him, of all people, and you were almost certain there was something in your drinks that had made you say what you did.

His velvety laugh echoed through your dorm, and you wanted nothing more than to fold in on yourself. This had to have been the worst moment of your life.

“I guess you don’t remember, huh?” There was an amused lilt to his tone that made you want to jump out of the window. “I can refresh you, if you’d like.”

“NO!”

The shriek that left you was nothing short of abashed. He leaned forward now, smirking at you conspiratorially. “What's wrong? I thought you needed,” he paused, as if recollecting the exact words you had said to humiliate you even further. “Hands-on learning?”

You pointed to the door, biting back a scream. “Get out.”

The smirk only grew. “Aw, but if sleeping with me is gonna help you write again–”

“OUT!” You glared, cheeks flaming. Your anxiety had prepared you for at least a hundred outright ridiculous situations that had no chance of ever occurring, but none of them accounted for the possibility of your best friend talking about sleeping with you. You couldn’t fathom how he seemed so unaffected by it, as if he were speaking about something as mundane as the damn weather.

Caleb tongued his cheek, evidently fighting off another bout of laughter. He raised his hands to his sides in a placating gesture, but it did nothing to soothe your frazzled nerves. If anything, it only distracted you further, your eyes betraying you and straying to glance at his hands. A suppressed memory from last night resurfaced in your mind's eye, much to your displeasure.

You have very nice hands. They’re hot.

That was it. You were never going to touch alcohol again. Sobriety was your way of life now, seeing that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut when under the influence. The next time you need to let off some steam, you’d have an iced coffee.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go.” He moved towards your door, hiding his teasing smile behind his fist, disguising his chuckle with an exaggerated cough. “But Y/n?”

He didn’t use his beloved pet name. You straightened slightly, momentarily pushing away your embarrassment at the sudden serious shift of his voice. He opened the door and paused, hesitating for a single second. Then, he looked back at you, all-consuming, violent eyes locking onto yours.

“I would do it if you asked.”

You sighed heavily as you walked out of your last class of the day, rubbing the back of your neck and peering up into the darkening sky. Thursdays were the one day of the week when you had longer classes one after the other, which always resulted in you feeling exhausted by the end of it. You barely had the energy to even think about putting together dinner, which your best friend knew, always swinging by once your class ended with enough take-out for both of you and to walk you back to your dorm.

Which meant…

“I hope you’re in the mood for Thai food.”

Caleb slid into your view with that easy-going smile of his, though lately and much to your annoyance, there seemed to be a knowing glint in his gaze every time it settled on you.

“I’m in the mood for anything edible.” You sighed as you began walking back to your dorm. He easily fell into step beside you, as always, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You supposed it was, considering how long your friendship had lasted. It would be almost twelve years soon, and honestly, you could hardly remember a time when he wasn’t around.

He hummed, knowing how cranky you got when you were hangry. “So easy to please.” It was the way he said it, knowing and with a tone so low that it almost resembled a purr. It had goosebumps rising on the surface of your skin. A little outraged at the way you reacted, you glanced over at him, only to find him already looking at you.

It was how he always looked at you, with conviction and every ounce of his attention. Yet, it felt different, more intense. Or maybe that was just your brain playing tricks on itself.

I would do it if you asked.

Those seven words had haunted you from the moment he had spoken them. The serious expression on his face mixed with the quiet way he had said it– it had undoubtedly fucked you up a little more than you would have liked to admit. You were beyond infuriated and in complete disbelief over how he had simply offered to sleep with you. Like it wasn’t a big deal or a very major, clear boundary that existed in friendships. In your friendship.

If you asked. Like it was that fucking simple. He left your dorm since you demanded it of him, but left you to deal with the aftermath of that absolutely criminal statement of his.

And then there was the teasing.

Relentless and unsteadying. Caleb would say something a little too suggestive or downright sexual before retreating and pretending like nothing had happened. He’d hold your gaze a little longer, or let his touch linger, before looking away with a satisfied smirk. He knew damn well what he was doing, and although you did too, it didn’t stop you from flushing or freezing up. It certainly didn’t stop scenarios from writing themselves in your head.

He was torturing you for your little slip-up. He found it hilarious, and now you were the punchline for every joke that blossomed from it.

He cocked his head to the side now, a small, tilted smile on his lips as he spoke. “What's going on in at head of yours?”

You realised you had stopped walking, and so had he, instead standing right in front of you and occupying every part of your vision. “Nothing.”

Caleb quirked an eyebrow, taking a step closer. “You sure about that? You’re obviously thinking about something.” The cadence of his voice had always been nice, but now the velvety smoothness of it put you on edge in more ways than one. “Are you maybe thinking about–”

“I am not thinking about that.” The statement tumbled out of you before you could bite your tongue. His eyes lit up mischievously.

“Oh, so you’re thinking about something after all, are you?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, struggling to findd to find a comeback to that. Somehow, he was even closer now.

“Mind telling me what exactly that is?”

“Stop it,” You almost snarled, shooting him a withering look as you pushed him away in order to reclaim your personal space. This teasing streak of his was getting unbearable, especially since it was anything but innocent and was driving you up the wall. “Or I’m gonna take the Thai food and leave you with nothing.”

An offended gasp. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

He laughed at your threat and finally let up on you, going back to being the Caleb you knew. He spoke of his classes and the group project he had due at the end of the week, for which he had terrible teammates to work with. It was jarring, how easily he could shift back into acting like he hadn’t just insinuated something so….

Maybe it was just your dirty mind.

Unbeknownst to you, it definitely wasn’t just your dirty mind. Caleb was mentally punching himself.

Caleb had had years of practising self-control when it came to you. Years of holding back and hiding the feelings he had for his best friend, shying away from every opportunity to divulge them. He knew how to keep his hands to himself, his mind from straying and his tongue from running into dangerous territory. He hadn’t meant to do it, but your drunken confession had flipped a switch inside of him. The lines had gotten a little blurry, but he would never, in a million years, ever actually cross them.

So what the hell was wrong with him?

You still hadn’t written a word. Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t even complain about it in peace anymore. Not if you wanted to maintain even a modicum of your sanity.

The reason for said dwindling sanity was sitting beside you right now on his bed, his arm slung around your shoulder, fingers tracing abstract patterns on the top of your shoulder. Usually, this would have calmed you down and even made you sleepy, but it achieved the complete opposite right then. You were painfully awake, his feathery touch like electricity against your skin.

God, you were so fucked. You had hoped that Caleb’s incessant teasing would have put a damper on your sudden, strong attraction towards him, but nothing of the sort had happened. It seemed to have only gotten worse, with you ending up being jumpy whenever he was around, and considering the amount you hung out with him, you were starting to resemble a kangaroo.

Around him, you were constantly tense and always on the precipice of being turned on. To say it was hellish would be an understatement.

“You’re distracted,” he murmured as the credits of the movie you were watching played. Finally, the two of you had managed to find the time to have that movie night you had passed on weeks ago. You shook your head, glancing up at the clock that hung on his wall. It was a little past midnight.

“Just frustrated,” you said finally, because it was the truth in more ways than one. Your frustration with your writing, or lack of, ran deep, but now it was intertwined with another very persistent reason. Being sexually frustrated wasn’t something you were used to dealing with.

He seemed to have caught on, though, his hand falling from your shoulder to your waist, curling around it. “Why are you frustrated, Pipsqueak?” He drawled, turning his head so that he faced you now. Of course, he’d pick this moment to torment you, when you were already frazzled.

“No reason,” you said quickly, voice clipped. A slow, languid smile stretched out on his lips.

“No?” He asked, the side of his mouth tilting. “Could it be….”

“Stop talking.” You despised how hoarse your voice sounded. You wanted– no, needed him to stop doing this before it became unbearable. He was your best friend, for fucks sake. The smile on his annoyingly perfect face melted into a smirk that would have had your knees weak if you weren’t already sitting down.

“I don’t think I will.” He whispered, pulling you even closer as he dipped his head down until his lips brushed against your ear. It was like he wanted you to break, and god, you were so close to doing so. His hand slid up your waist just a little bit. A shiver ran through you, one you couldn’t have suppressed if you tried.

“Tell me,” He mumbled, the words sounding much too loud even though he was still whispering. “Do your frustrations have anything to do with a certain sex scene you’re trying to write?”

You inhaled sharply.

Rationality was a funny thing. Every bit of it seemed to disappear whenever you truly needed it. Things you had no business thinking rushed through your head, courtesy of your bright imagination that chose the most inconvenient moments to work. Thoughts you had suppressed and pushed aside every time they had the nerve to pop up swirled around.

The spark that you had been trying so hard to put out crackled to life in your core, its flames spreading all across your body like wildfire. You were painfully aware of every part of you that was in contact with him, his hand just above your waist, sitting there so possessively, his breath fanning across your neck– fuck. It was too much, but somehow not enough all at once, and immediately you knew what you wanted.

More.

You snapped.

Something possessed you as you turned to look at him, a surge of confidence appearing out of nowhere as you drew closer to him. “Yeah.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Right then and there, three things became very clear to you. One: You wanted to write. Desperately and preferably sometime soon, because you did want to finish the first draft before you could go in and edit. Two: For some reason, you needed to have sex in order to get over the mental block you had when it came to writing it. Lastly, three: You only wanted to have sex with one person, and it was the man right beside you.

“My frustration has everything to do with the sex scene.” You said, surprising yourself with how steady your voice was. “But you can help with that, right?”

Without waiting for his response, you got to your knees, swinging a leg over him and settling down on top. Surprise flickered in his eyes for a second as your hands found his shoulders to maintain your balance, before he spoke again.

“Pipsqueak,” he started, voice low and careful, attempting to keep the teasing lilt in his voice but royally failing. “What– exactly– are you doing?”

“You told me to ask.” You muttered, dropping your gaze to his lips for a moment before letting it travel back up. “You said you’d do it if I asked. I’m asking right now.”

Caleb couldn’t respond, still staring up at you, eyes wide and ears a little redder than they normally were. Good. It was about time he had a taste of his own medicine. His hands found your waist again, and he blinked twice, slowly, and you prayed he wasn’t all bark and no bite.

You wanted him to bite.

“Y/n,” he muttered, “I….I know what I said.”

You raised an eyebrow, your hands slipping up his shoulders simultaneously until they were cradling his neck, playing with his hair at the nape of it. Was he shy? Now? After everything he had said and insinuated, he had the audacity to be all bashful? “So then you know what I’m asking for.”

“Well–”

“Caleb,” You cut him off, shifting so that you were closer. “I’m asking.”

Conviction laced those words. You could tell he was reasoning with himself, god knows you could read him well enough to know when he was conflicted, when he bit the inside of his cheek before exhaling shakily.

“Pips,” He rasped out your nickname. “You– you’re sure?”

You didn’t recognise the look in his eyes right then as he looked up at you, but it had you unravelling all the same. You leaned in subconsciously, but he quickly moved one of his hands from your waist to your mouth, covering it as his jaw clenched, still studying you. “I need you to tell me you’re sure, Y/n.”

Oh, so this was actually happening. You could feel the heat of your breath recoil against your face because of his hand. The ticking of the clock in his room filled the charged silence between him and you, his fingers brushing against your chapped lips. You swallowed.

“I’m sure.”

Whatever had shifted in you five minutes ago seemed to shift in him as well now. He let his hand drop from your mouth, shamelessly staring at it. “We shouldn’t.” But he pulled you closer, his arms circling your waist and palms splayed out on the small of your back.

“It’s for research purposes,” You breathed out, doing your best to justify how badly you needed him. “Please, Caleb, I need–”

He didn’t let you finish.

You gasped as he crushed his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up. The pressure of his lips against your own was dizzying, especially with the way they moved; slowly and precisely, as if he was committing the feel of your lips to his memory. You were hyperaware of his touch on your back, the warmth from his hands permeating through the thin fabric of the T-shirt you were wearing.

Pulling him closer, you tilted your head so you could kiss him better. For the number of times you had mentally chided yourself for even thinking about this, it felt remarkably natural to kiss him, your instincts taking over. Your fingers slipped into his hair, entangling in the dark strands and tugging lightly.

Caleb groaned, and you were on fire.

“God, Y/n.” There was nothing playful about the way he mumbled your name into the kiss, and the unfamiliarity of it sent a shiver down your spine. His lips, soft and just a little hesitant, moved in tandem against your own, slotting in between them perfectly like you were pieces of the same puzzle, meant to be pushed together like so. He nipped at your lower lip before swiping his tongue over it to soothe the sting, and the intoxicating sensation drew out a needy whimper from you.

The second that sound escaped you, all indecision disappeared from his end, and the temperature in the room seemed to increase, growing hotter with every smack of his lips against yours. Kissing him was addictive, it felt as if neither of you could bear to pull away from each other.

Without warning, Caleb lifted you off of him and pressed you into the mattress, swiftly climbing on top of you. For a moment, he hovered, looking down at you, taking in the flush on your cheeks and heavy breathing, proud to have been the cause of your breathlessness despite barely doing a thing. Going in once again, he brushed his lips against yours teasingly, before giving you what you truly wanted, the intensity of the kiss taking a turn for feverish.

A hand of his slid up your side until he cupped your jaw oh-so gently, turning your face to the side to give him better access to your neck, upon which he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses that had heat rush right to your core. The ache between your legs grew, slowly becoming unbearable, and you rubbed your thighs together with a whine, chasing any sliver of friction.

“Shit,” he muttered against you, his other hand slipping underneath your shirt and coming into contact with your stomach, causing goosebumps to rise on the skin. Spreading his fingers and pressing lightly, he kept you from squirming. “Pips, you gotta tell me to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” you almost snapped at him, impatient and so painfully aroused it was embarrassing. He couldn’t hold back the breathless chuckle that escaped him as he moved lower, teeth grazing your collarbone.

“If, at any point, you want to stop, tell me,” he gritted out, trying to hold onto any semblance of self-control he still possessed. “I don’t wanna do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

You nodded quickly. “I trust you.”

That was all he needed. Lifting his head slightly, he fumbled with the buttons of your shorts as he leaned back, all his weight on his knees. Once he managed to undo them, you lifted your hips slightly to help him tug them off your body. He settled between your legs, spreading them until the pretty cotton panties you wore were exposed.

Caleb swallowed, his breathing growing erratic and heavy. The wet patch on your panties was his undoing; everything about this situation was bound to be the death of him, but he was too far gone now. He let his hand trace up to your hips, hooking his finger through the waistband of your panties, toying with it.

“Is this ok?” The column of his throat bobbed as he stared up at you from between your legs. When you whispered a needy yes, he pulled the panties down your legs, his eyes darkening the moment they settled back on your core.

“Y/n,” He said your name like he was drunk, a certain sense of reverence infused in his tone that had your cheeks kissed rouge. “You’re even prettier than I thought.”

Than he thought? You would have to take the time to dissect that statement later, much too distracted to do so at the moment when he began peppering kisses along your inner thigh, starting from your knee and working his way upwards. The sensation of his mouth tantalisingly close to where you wanted it so badly was almost too much. Just the sight of him there was so erotic that it had your head swimming. You had never felt more vulnerable than you did right then, exposed and willing.

And then finally– finally– his breath fanned out over your soaked cunt, driving you insane. Liquid fire thrummed in your veins beneath the surface of your skin as your anticipation spilled over. He pressed a light, teasing kiss against your clit.

Caleb dragged his tongue over your slit, licking up it all the way to your clit, which he wrapped his lips around and sucked, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You gasped, bucking your hips up against him, and he chuckled, the sound sending vibrations up your body, from your toes to the top of your head.

“Impatient,” he chided. “Let me take my time with you, princess.”

The new pet name sounded so natural coming from him, and immediately, you knew you wanted to hear him call you that again. He flicked his tongue against the throbbing bud that had been aching for his attention this entire time, positioning your legs to rest over his shoulders. The sounds that left you were shamefully loud, and you had never been more grateful that he lived in a single dorm.

“Cal- oh fuck,” You mewled when he swiped two of his fingers through your wetness, rubbing your folds.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he all but groaned against you, and you could feel more slick gush out of you at that. “Is this all for me?”

Your back arched off the bed when he pressed a finger to your dripping entrance, nodding with a sense of desperation you had never experienced before. “Yes,” you exhaled the word as he pushed his finger inside your pussy slowly, your jaw falling open at the pleasurable intrusion.

Slowly, he began pumping it in and out of you as he continued to give your clit the sweet attention it deserved, basking in the noises that you made. The pads of the fingers of his other hand dug into the flesh of your thigh, keeping you nice and spread out despite all your attempts to shut your legs around him.

When he introduced a second finger to your cunt, your hands found purchace in his hair, gripping and tugging as you panted, unable to focus on anything else. Your eyes fluttered shut as the tips of his fingers brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars, crooking inside you so perfectly. It was as if he knew exactly how to push you to the edge.

Your best friend was eating you out like a starved man and you were enjoying every fucking second of it. He could feel your legs begin to tremble, your impending orgasm building. Shamelessly, you bucked your hips against his face, and the moment he realised what you were doing, he increased the pace of his fingers.

“Come on baby,” he encouraged you, flattening his tongue against your clit and pulling you closer, spurring you on even further. You ground against his mouth desperately, feeling the coil in your core draw tight, so, so close.

“Caleb,” you stuttered his name helplessly, but he somehow understood, knowing just what you needed. “I–I’m gonna–”

He scissored his fingers inside of you, hooking them just right as he gave your clit little kitten licks, determined to have you fall apart on his tongue. Your sweet gasps sent blood rushing straight to his cock, which was already painfully hard, confined in his jeans. Taking your mound into his mouth, he sucked harshly, thrusting his fingers knuckle deep in your sex.

A broken moan escaped you when your climax hit you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your legs shook, but he didn’t let up, grinning proudly against you as he drove his fingers back into your gushing entrance, helping you ride out your high and prolonging it. Once he was satisfied, he lapped at you, refusing to waste even a single drop of your essence.

Caleb pulled away, and the sight of you nearly did him in. Eyes screwed shut in ecstacy and hair fanned out on his pillow, undoubtedly tangled from all your writhing. You looked like the picture of sin, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He climbed back, hovering over you again as he licked his lips.

Your eyes fluttered open, pupils blown out and dark due to the sheer level of desire that coursed through you. You were stunning, and he was destroyed, knowing that he’d never be able to forget the way you were looking at him right then. The way you tasted.

When he kissed you again, it was different. It was a heady mix of heat and tongue and want, messier than the kisses he gave you earlier, the control he had before nowhere to be seen anymore. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned, reaching out to touch him.

You started at his collar, dragging your hands down, down, down until you reached the hem of his shirt, whining against his mouth as you tugged at it.

“Take it off.”

Who was he to deny you? He stopped kissing you, sitting up so that he could pull the shirt off, exposing his torso for you. The way your eyes raked over him hungrily was more than gratifying, especially when they caught on the silver chain that hung from his neck, the pendant sitting on his chest. Tossing his shirt to the side, he pushed your own up your body, exposing the skin of your stomach.

“Your turn.”

You let him take off your shirt, tossing it to the side and slipping his hands slip behind your back. He silently asked for your permission, which you gave to him in the form of an impatient nod to which he smirked, unhooking your bra and peeling it off of you, letting the discarded garment join the rest of them on the floor.

One look at you and he was a goner.

“Fuck,” he could feel himself straining his jeans as he took in the sight of your breasts, so perfect and plush. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate you in all your naked glory, before leaning back down, his mouth back on your overheated skin. He dragged his tongue down your neck, sucking and biting like there was no tomorrow.

His lips trailed downwards, kissing the swell of your breast before wrapping around your already hard nipple, stroking his tongue against the aching peak. He palmed the other breast, giving that nipple equal amounts of attention and rolling it under his thumb. You hissed in pleasure, breathless as you arched into his addictive touch.

You could barely think straight; everything he was doing to you sent you into complete overdrive. Every touch was criminally good, the simplest of them causing your arousal to increase tenfold. Perhaps it was because it had been so long since you had last had sex, but you had never before felt so frenzied.

Hooking your legs around his waist, you could feel the outline of him pressing against your thighs. Angling your hips, you pressed your bare pussy against his bulge, the roughness of the denim rubbing you just right. He looked up at you from your chest through hooded eyes, earning another whimper as he pinched your nipple.

“You sound so good.” His words went straight to your head. “Tell me what you want.”

He said it like it was a command, and who were you to disobey, especially when you knew exactly what you wanted?

“I want you inside me,” you whimpered, voice heated with lust.

How could he ever refuse you? Caleb gave you one last kiss before reaching over to his bedside table, grabbing something from the drawer and sitting up and unzipping his pants. You couldn’t help but stare as he impatiently kicked off his jeans and boxers, eyes widening when you finally saw his cock.

Fuck, it was big. Long and painfully hard, you could hardly believe he was hard because of you, but the proof was in front of your very eyes. Your lower lip caught between your teeth as you drank in the sight of him, hyperaware of the wetness that coated your thighs.

He tore open the condom packet, smoothly sliding it onto himself before settling between your legs once.

“W-will it even fit?” You squeaked, a spike of fear cutting through the lust-filled haze of your mind. He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his lips and pressing your fingers to them, kissing your knuckles soothingly as he bit back a smile.

“It’ll fit.”

“But– there's no way,” You spluttered, “It’s gonna hurt.” Not that the prospect of being in a little pain deterred you by any means, you were way too horny to stop now. Complaining was probably the least sexy thing you could have done in the moment, but he seemed unbothered, the dark, hungry glint in his eyes never fading. The amused look on his face, however, was not lost on you, nor was the way he bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a smile. You glared weakly.

“Are you laughing at me?” You asked, incredulous. “I swear to god, Caleb, you’re going to split me in half, and you’re laughing?”

“Baby,” He breathed, “You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say!”

You wouldn’t even blame him if he decided he was done with you and pulled his pants back on, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, he gripped your hips, grounding you to the moment.

Both of you were completely nude, and despite this, you had never felt more comfortable. Not when he looked at you like that, like you were something sacred.

“Relax, Pips, I’ve got you,” He whispered, sensing your apprehension. You exhaled shakily as he pressed his hard-on against your folds, groaning at just how wet you were. “Eyes on me.”

The way he took control so naturally was alarmingly attractive. You looked up, locking your eyes with his, unable to stay silent when the head of his cock rubbed against your swollen clit. “O-oh.”

He shuddered at the feeling, dropping a little so that he was keeping himself up on his elbows. His necklace swung above you just like you had imagined as he ground against you, but it still wasn’t enough. “Ready?”

You didn’t think you’d ever be ready, but you wanted it so badly you didn’t even care. Nodding eagerly, you intertwined your fingers with his, letting him press the back of your hands into the mattress. When his tip caught at your entrance, you whined. “Please.”

Having you beg him like that was dangerous. He squeezed your hands, and then slowly, carefully, sank into your wet heat, inch by devastating inch. Your jaw slackened, loudly moaning his name as he filled you up and stretched you out so pleasurably. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he pushed into you until he bottomed out, going breathless himself. One glance down to where the two of you were connected had him actively having to fight off coming right then and there.

Caleb was in heaven, and he was fucking delirious. He forced himself to stay still, moaning lowly when he felt your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. “You’re doing so well, princess.” He praised, lowering his head to your neck and burying his face in the crook of it, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm himself down.

There was so much wrong with this, so why did it feel so right? You felt so perfect, like you were made for him.

“Caleb,” You whimpered once the sting faded, letting go of his hands and looping your arms around his neck, “Move. I need you to move.”

He pulled out until only his tip remained inside of you, before sheathing himself again, causing you to curve off the bed, nails digging into his skin. He did it again and again, nearly growling when he felt you grow even wetter, coating the length of his cock in your slick. Wet sounds that had your cheeks burning filled the room repeatedly.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” He practically growled, contrasting the tender pace he set, telling you he was holding back for your sake. You could feel every inch of him as he dragged against your walls, reminding you how big he was with every thrust.

Your friendship was potentially ruined, but it felt too good for you to care. With your legs locked behind his back, you gripped his biceps, a wanton moan escaping you as your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure overriding every other sensation.

“So good,” words were hard to put together, and he understood and nodded, holding your hips so tight you were sure there would be marks, just like the marks that blossomed all over your neck and chest from his earlier ministrations. Right now, though, you didn’t care about that, consumed by the waves of euphoria rushing through you.

Slowly, the frequency of his thrusts increased, rendering you completely winded and unable to do anything but gasp for air. You felt another orgasm steadily build up inside you.

Then he tipped his hips a certain way, the tip of his cock brushing against a spot that made you cry out his name, throwing your head back into his pillows. The look on your face was something he wanted to imprint in his memory; the desire lacing your voice was beyond exhilarating.

Caleb could feel his own impending high, so tightly wound because of just how long he had waited for something like this. When you clenched around him, he knew you were close as well, but the act nearly did him in.

“Don’t do that.” his voice was all scratchy and strained, but you promptly did it once again, high off the notion that you were affecting him just as much as he was affecting you. His hips stuttered against yours as his violet eyes flashed. “Fucking hell.”

“Oh my god,” you moaned, “I can’t–”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “I want you to look at me when you come all over my cock.”

Never in a million years would you have thought your best friend would be so good at dirty talk, but the shock quickly melted into obedience as you managed to hold his heated gaze. Reaching between the two of you, his index finger found your engorged clit and rubbed circles against it.

You squealed, overly sensitive. “Shit–I’m gonna– Cal-!”

“Come for me.”

Caleb would never forget how you looked: at his mercy, crying out his name over and over like it was a prayer as you came, spilling over his cock with a euphoric sob. He snapped his hips to yours with renewed urgency, drawing out your second climax and prolonging the feeling. When he saw the fucked out look on your face, it hit him at once.

With one final thrust, he buried himself inside you, coming with a moan, burying his face in your neck once again. His body was damp against yours, his hair tickling you as you breathed heavily. He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, recovering from the intensity of what had just happened.

Wordlessly, he pulled out of you gently, the sudden emptiness you felt having you whimper softly. Peeling the condom off, he tossed it in the bin next to his bed before climbing off of you, muttering something about being back. Seconds later, you felt a warm, wet cloth drag over your core. He cleaned you up, pressing little kisses to the inner side of your thighs.

Once he was done, he gathered you in his arms and pulled you close, kissing your temple.

“Are you okay?” He asked, pulling away just enough so he could try and gauge how you felt, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone as he cupped your face tenderly. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

You shook your head and leaned into his touch, completely spent. “No, it was perfect.”

He sighed in relief. You curled into him, and he wrapped his arms around you. “You did so well,” he murmured into your hair, massaging your scalp gently. “You were amazing, actually.” Another kiss to your forehead made you simper as your eyes closed, exhaustion settling into you now that the adrenaline had faded. “Tired?”

“Yeah,” You mumbled. Your legs entangled with his, and he stopped talking, tracing shapes on your back while you drifted off to sleep. He watched you for a bit, savouring the skin-on-skin contact, his mind reeling from what had just happened.

This was strangely normal, no awkwardness or post-nut clarity hitting either of you. Your body lay against his with all of you pressed up against him like that was exactly where you belonged. He could feel the beating of your heart, strong and steady in your slumber, whereas his remained erratic and fast. This was more than just a taste that he had had of you; it was the entire deal, and the knowledge of it all had his morals scattered and all over the place, because now that he knew what he knew, well.

Caleb wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

At the time, you had justified sleeping with Caleb as research, something you needed to do in order to get it out of your system. You had assumed, albeit foolishly, that once it was over, you’d be able to go back to normal and continue with your life.

But research was an activity that required constant revisiting. Most of it had to be repeated over and over, especially if it included gathering data from an experiment. There was always a control, and then variations of the experiment would be conducted to record the differences in the outcomes.

At least, that was what you were telling yourself right now as you straddled him, his cock buried inside you.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how this had happened. After that day, everything seemed to be normal, until he showed up at your dorm to help you study for a class he had also taken when he was in his sophomore year. One thing led to another, or rather, one heated touch later, you found yourself under him once again.

And then it happened again, and kept happening. Whispers of it being just for research mixed in with both of your moans became a melody you were more than used to. This was all for your book, after all. For the sake of accuracy and your integrity as a writer.

Definitely not because of how mindblowing sex with Caleb was.

And it absolutely was.

He had made you completely insatiable for him, and almost every time the two of you hung out in one of your dorms, it ended up with both of you in bed. Every other aspect of your friendship remained exactly the same, though, which left you considerably confused. He didn’t look at or treat you any differently, poking fun and driving you up the wall, staying his usual reliable self.

Caleb’s hand cradled the back of your head as he kissed you now, fingers entangled in your hair and pulling slightly. You moaned softly against his lips, grinding on him.

You were in one of his shirts, panties tugged to the side since he hadn’t had the patience to take them off, needing to be inside of you as quickly as possible. Despite his earlier hurriedness, the pace the two of you settled on now was almost teasing, slowly rocking against him as you lazily chased the delicious high that you had gotten so used to experiencing these past two weeks.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, more to himself than you, hand slipping under your shirt and cupping your breast, squeezing. When he caught you biting your lip, he tutted, letting go of your hair and using his thumb to release it from your teeth. “Ah, ah, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself, pretty girl.”

“Too good,” you complained in that whiney, desperate tone he had gotten so addicted to. Pinching your nipple for good measure, he smirked up at you when you squealed.

Caleb quickly learned that he loved having you on top of him. Getting you all to himself like this was a privilege in itself, but fucking you while you wore his shirt? He was on cloud nine. He could feel himself throb in your sweet pussy that welcomed him so eagerly, in turn pulsing around him.

He cursed under his breath when you started to bounce, eager to get to the finish line with him. He sounded so good when he swore, you’d never understand it, just like how you wouldn’t get how he looked so pretty with a flush decorating his face and sex-mussed hair.

Gripping his shoulders, you tipped your head back, giving him access to your neck. He had taken to marking you up as and when he pleased, new hickeys surprising you every time you glanced in the mirror. Despite his tendency to leave them in places everyone could very easily spot them, you didn’t tell him to stop simply it just felt so good.

Everything with Caleb felt good, and not only did it feel good, but you felt completely safe. He was so attentive, doing the most to make sure you were never in any pain, often times focusing more on getting you off rather than himself.

He thrust up into you suddenly, his earlier impatience returning, and you cried out, falling into his chest. He held you, working you through it and dragging you closer and closer to release. One of your hands fell to his torso, tracing the hard lines of his abs and trailing downwards before your fingers found your clit and rubbed.

Shit. If having you ride him was good, being able to watch you touch yourself as you did was unbelievable. When you came, you came hard, and the feeling of it tipped him over the edge.

You were a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

You didn’t bother moving, clinging to him even tighter like you couldn’t bear to not be touching him in some way as you came down from your high. He smelled like sex, sweat, and that cologne of his that you loved. It was the reason you stole his clothes so much and why you were wearing his shirt even now.

Your first time with Caleb was the getaway drug, and now you were addicted to him, to having his hands caressing you all over and him whispering praises in your ear.

“Hey there,” He chuckled, rubbing your back. “All good?”

“Great even,” You mumbled, sitting up properly before finally lifting yourself off of him. You failed to register how jelly-like your legs felt, promptly losing your balance. He caught you before you fell, grinning.

“Can’t walk?” You could hear how smug he was without even having to look at him. It was then that you registered the burn in your thighs and huffed.

“Don’t sound so proud about it.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, leaving you to scoff as he helped you to your feet, following suit. “I’ll help you clean up. Do you wanna watch the new episode after?”

Ah yes. Of course, he’d start talking about anime after taking away your ability to stand. That had been the reason he had shown up at your dorm in the first place, but the moment he saw you wearing his shirt, it had quickly become an afterthought.

The whiplash you felt was indescribable, and you could only nod, letting him pick you up and carry you to the bathroom. After a quick shower and change of clothes, the two of you settled down with your laptop like nothing had happened, your head resting on his shoulder as you focused on the show.

Neither of you bothered to talk about your redefined friendship despite having sex regularly. It was just….a new addition. A benefit that you were both taking advantage of, nothing more and nothing less.

But even as you reminded yourself of that now, you found yourself doubting it.

There was something to be said about formal events.

You enjoyed getting dolled up as much as the next girl, but that was where the fun ended. Having to sit through the event was boring and not the way you liked to spend your Friday evenings. You would have much preferred staying in and catching up on some much-needed sleep.

The editor of your university’s paper, Jenna, had organised an affair that was being held in one of the college halls. She had worked very hard on it, inviting several alumni who were all successful in the fields of journalism and writing back so that the current batch of students had the chance to make connections. It was open to the entire student body, but she had made it clear that everyone on the paper was obligated to attend.

Connections were what helped people get further in life. You were grateful for the opportunity to interact with industry professionals, but didn’t understand why she had insisted on keeping it a black tie affair. That probably had something to do with keeping up appearances.

You stood off to the side, sipping on your cranberry juice from a cup that was made for something much more refined. So far, you had spoken to a couple of the guests, but seeing that you had been here for over an hour already, your social battery was slowly dying out. The dress you wore was a black number, floor length, form-fitting and plain except for the slit that reached up to a little above your knee. Perfect for an event like this, not too much and on power with what everyone else was wearing.

Still, it was a little overstimulating. You guzzled down the rest of your juice and placed the empty glass down on one of the tables.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

You spun on your heels immediately at that voice, eyes widening and settling on the culprit who stood two, maybe three steps away from you.

“Caleb?” You asked in disbelief, taking in his presence. He was wearing a suit.

“The one and only,” he grinned, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Here to rescue you from your boredom.”

“What are you even doing here?” To say this wasn’t his scene would be an understatement. He didn’t like wearing the whole suit getup, much preferring casual clothing. Hell, Caleb hadn’t even attended his high school prom (though when you asked why, he would never give you a straight answer), opting to spend the night in with you instead.

He looked unfairly good. The collar of his shirt hid those lovely collarbones of his and reminded you of how you had bit down on them the other day, the bottom of it tucked into black slacks. He had even worn dress shoes, instead of the sneakers he so loved and a tie around his neck. The entire getup.

“I literally just told you why. To get you out of here. Are you hard of hearing now?”

You returned his jibe with an exasperated sound. “I meant here, at this thing.”

“Oh. Well, you did mention it was open to anyone yesterday,” he shrugged, grabbing a glass of juice and sipping on it. “So that editor of yours technically can’t complain about me being here.”

That was true. Still, you found yourself bewildered as you stared at him. He was here. For some reason, even though he was allowed to be here, it didn’t make sense to you. You pressed your lips together and cocked your head to the side, studying him.

“So you dressed up and came here.…only to convince me to leave?” The notion sounded strange even to you. Why on earth would he do that? He finished up his drink and put it down next to your empty glass, taking a step closer to you. The simple movement had butterflies erupt in the pits of your stomach.

What the hell?

“Stop thinking so much. Do you want to stay?”

You considered it. “Not really, no.”

“Do you enjoy arguing with me for no reason, woman?” he muttered dryly under his breath, his eyes catching on something over your head. “On second thought, I think you should stay a little longer.”

Now you were just plain confused. One moment he was talking about saving you from boredom, and the next he was insisting you stay? Before you could undoubtedly start another argument just to spite him, he took you by your shoulders and spun you around, pointing in a certain direction. When you figured out what, or rather, who he was gesturing to, you couldn’t hide your gasp.

“Isn’t that the author you like?”

You could only nod dumbly. “Raymond.” Last year, you had a phase where you only read his books day in and day out, absorbing the stories he spun like a sponge. His books were the reason you had decided to start writing your own in the first place, inspired by his storytelling skills.

Caleb nudged your side gently, “Go.”

“How–” you cut yourself off, looking up at him. “How do you even remember that?” You weren’t sure why this entire interaction with him was throwing you off so much, but you felt completely unbalanced. You hadn’t spoken about Raymond or his work in a long time, so how did he know? He shrugged noncommittally.

“I know you.” He said it so plainly, like it was something trivial and basic, but his eyes bored into yours.

Had Caleb always looked at you with such quiet intensity?

He nudged your side gently, reminding you to move. Forcing yourself out of your stupor, you promised him you wouldn’t take too much time and walked over, buzzing with excitement.

The conversation itself wasn’t long, but it was insightful. He answered all your questions about the industry, and you even had the chance to share for appreciation for Raymond's work as well as ask him questions that you had about his novels. You gave him your utmost attention when he gave you advice, but when he started talking about his characters, your eyes and mind wandered.

Back to your best friend, who was waiting for you on the other end of the hall, leaning against one of the walls and scrolling through his phone. He didn’t give a flying fuck about this event, but had still come here for your sake, even when you hadn’t asked him to. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, and flashing you a small smile.

Oh.

You looked away and back at Raymond, nodding politely and tuning yourself back into the conversation. Internally, however, you were freaking out. Something was very wrong; that was the only reason you could conjure up at the moment for what was happening to you. How else could you explain the sudden sweatiness of your palms, or the odd, fluttery feeling in your stomach? Maybe it was the excitement you felt from meeting the author you loved so much, but even as you considered this possibility, you knew it wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

This could not be happening. You plastered a smile on your face as you tried to pay attention to whatever Raymond was talking about, but the damage was done. Your brain had never been one to let go of a single thought you had, especially ones that had to do with Caleb. He had a hold on you that no one else did, and why was that?

Because you liked Caleb.

The horrifying realisation hit you, startling you out of your rapidly spiralling thought process. Blinking, you realised Raymond was done speaking.

“Thank you so much for your time,” You said, trying not to sound as troubled as you felt. The author smiled at you before turning to another student.

Swallowing the newfound lump in your throat, you turned around and walked back to Caleb. This was bad. Having sex with him was already vaguely immoral and probably something that shouldn’t have happened– and shouldn’t keep happening like it did– but having feelings for him? That was out of the question.

“Good talk?” He asked, slipping his phone into his pocket. The genuine interest he had in your excitement made the entire situation worse. Why were you noticing all this now, of all times? It wasn’t like he had suddenly turned into someone considerate. He had always been this way; it was written into his DNA.

You realised he had even tried to tame his hair for today. “It was great.”

“I’m glad. Now I can steal you away from this place.” His eyes were lit up with mischief, just like they did when the two of you were younger and he did something he wasn’t supposed to. Ever the rebel, this one.

You felt a little guilty. All this effort for you? It seemed completely useless. “Okay, but Caleb, seriously, you didn’t have to do this.”

He frowned. “Didn’t have to do what?”

“This!” You waved in his general direction and then gestured around. “I mean, you don’t even like wearing a suit, but here you are. It’s not like it's compulsory for you like it is for me. You could be doing anything else.” You were rambling, you knew, but it was hard to stop. He rolled his eyes.

“Has that stopped me before?”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“I show up to your newsroom even though I’m sure Jenna wants to castrate me for breaking the rules so much.” He raised an eyebrow. “I attended that lecture of yours when you had a presentation. You know I’m here because I want to be.” You knew he said stuff like this all the time, you always were the recipient of his support. This was normal.

But it didn’t feel normal. For fucks sake, this was the boy you had grown up with. He had seen you fall off your bike, fail tests and puke your guts out when drunk. In each of those situations, he had also been the one to pick you up and bandage your wounds, help you study and hold your hair back for you.

Did he think it was an obligation now?

“You….you shouldn’t feel like you have to do that.” You said slowly, but he didn’t let you continue.

“Oh, please. Everyone knows that where you go, I go too.” He flicked your forehead, immediately receiving a glare in return. “We’re like…….” He stopped for a moment, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing like they always did when he was thinking hard about something. Then he snapped his fingers. “We’re like those yoghurt-granola snack packs!”

You stared at him blankly. “What?”

“You know.” He decided to explain his stupid analogy, as if your head wasn’t muddled enough. “Those things you can buy at the grocery store. The small yoghurt tubs that have a container filled with granola on top of them? Like, they’re both okay separately, but much better when together. People buy those packs for a reason.” He slipped his phone back into his pockets and beamed at you. “We’re like that.”

Oh my god. That barely made any sense. You weren’t sure if you were mortified because of that terrible explanation or because it hadn’t put a damper on your newfound feelings for him. “You’re such a fucking dork.”

He feigned offence, holding his hand over his heart. “Excuse me? You mean cute, right?”

Right. Wait, no, you didn’t. Ugh. “I thinkx ridiculous.”

“Are you coming with me or not, Pips?”

“But Jenna insisted-”

He rubbed a hand over his face in annoyance before fixing you with a droll look. “Would you rather be here or be with me?”

Be with you.

You ignored the way your stomach flipped. You didn’t have the time or the mental stability to process everything that was happening to you right now. The logical part of your brain swooped in, telling you that you were just confused because of the sex. Yes, that was it. You did not have feelings for Caleb Xia.

Sighing, you relented. “You.” Saying that didn’t mean anything, after all. Nothing about the two of you meant anything, so there was no reason for you to be freaking out, even if it sounded like you had just confessed. A wide grin made a show on his face when he realised he had won, and he tilted his head towards the exit.

“Finally. Wanna get out of here?”

“Just to be clear, this is not what I meant when I asked if you wanted to get out of there.”

You huffed out a soft laugh, fingers curling around his tie as you tugged him closer. “No? Could have sworn you planned for us to end up in a janitor's closet.”

Caleb bit back a laugh of his own, knowing that making too much noise would get both of you in trouble. After leaving the event, somehow, his guiding hand on your hip had turned into the two of you making out in the hallway. You blamed the mess that your head was in for not realising what a bad idea that was immediately, but once you did, you did the most responsible thing you could think of.

And dragged him into the janitor's closet that was close by.

Naturally.

He braced a hand over your head on the cabinet that you were leaning against, essentially caging you in as he dipped his head to kiss you again. “Pretty sure that was you’re doing.”

“Excuse me? You’re the one who kissed me first!” You protested against his mouth, but could hardly complain when he kissed you like it was a relief to do so. Honestly, he was probably the best kisser you had ever experienced.

That must have been the reason for your spiralling thoughts. That and the amazing sex that you were so weak to.

Yep. That’s all. Anyone could be susceptible to such things.

“Can you blame me? Have you seen yourself in this dress?” His free hand slipped into the slit at your knee, slowly dragging the rest of the dress up until it was bunched up around your waist. “You’re stunning.”

He couldn’t stop kissing you. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed you out there like he had the right to, because he was well aware of the unspoken rules of this arrangement, but he couldn’t help it. If getting too comfortable with whatever you had going on with him was a crime, a sin, then he was a criminal of the highest order. The worst part? He didn’t feel a shred of guilt.

But you were wearing that fucking cherry lip gloss, and god knnows he had waited long enough to taste it.

Warmth spread over your chest first before it rushed to the apex between your legs. The control he seemed to have over your body was truly astounding. In his hands, you were putty.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” You whispered back, loosening the knot of his tie and pulling it off completely, dropping it to the side. “This suits you.”

His lips twitched. “The suit suits me?”

“Shut up and kiss me, loser.”

He complied, grinning against your mouth as he pulled you into another earth-shattering kiss that did positively nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Stubbornly, you pushed down the feelings bubbling around the confines of your heart, refusing to give them any attention if you could help it.

You gripped the front of his suit jacket, helping him peel it off his shoulders and letting it join his tie on the floor. Without warning, he pressed a knee in between your legs, and you nearly melted against him.

Sex was great. Sex with him was phenomenal. This was just the lust getting to you.

Caleb gripped the leg that your slit now exposed and lifted it, propping it up against his waist. He trailed his fingers against your inner thigh, his touch feather-light yet scorching at the same time. When his index and middle finger pressed against your clothed cunt, you were glad for the hot he had on you, pressed up against the cabinet, because you would have surely buckled if not.

“Wow,” he mumbled amusedly, pushing your panties to the side and teasing your wetness. “You really like the suit, huh?”

The fact that this type of interaction was now commonplace should have been the first sign that things had gone too far.

Usually, you couldn’t think straight when he touched you like this, but today it was all a mix of feeling way too much and dangerous, fleeting thoughts that made you want to tear your hair out.

“Maybe,” You peppered kisses along the column of his throat, determined to get out of your head and focus only on how good he could make you feel. Pleasure and person were entirely separate entities, and you would make sure it stayed that way.

“Suit kink.”

“Never say that again.”

He only smirked, plunging his fingers into you. All you could do was cry out as you gripped the front of his shirt, momentarily forgetting that you were supposed to be quiet. Quickly, his palm covered your mouth, muffling any further sounds you could make. “Can’t have you being loud here, princess. What if someone catches us?”

The way you practically gushed the moment he suggested someone catch you in such a compromising position was downright embarrassing. Raising an eyebrow, he leaned even lower and whispered. “Oh? You like that?”

You whined against his hand, cheeks flushing furiously. You began fiddling with the top buttons of his shirt, and he chuckled lowly.

“For someone who likes my suit so much, you sure are trying to get rid of it quickly.”

“For someone who was dying to kiss me two minutes ago, you talk too much.” You rocked your hips against his hand even as you sassed him back. He moved his hand from your mouth into your hair, carding it through gently, tugging slightly to tilt your head back for him so he could kiss you again, swallowing every sound you made.

No one could sue you for being attracted to a hot man. That was just biology.

You could feel the familiar tightening of your core, signalling your impending crash. You broke away from the kiss, licked your lips and palmed him over his pants, earning a hiss of pleasure in return.

“Don’t– don’t do that,” He choked out, and you smirked triumphantly, refusing to relent on your movements. Batting your eyelashes, you stared up at him through them in faux innocence, unaware that it affected him so much more than you thought.

“Just fuck me already.” You whined, half out of desperation for him and party because now you needed him to fuck you to prove to yourself that this was just sex. To be able to brush away all the compliments he dropped that seemed to go straight to your head, to get the intoxicaing fucking way he kissed you out of your head and away from further dissection. To stop the slow-burning feeling of yearning that was growing inside of you for the boy you had grown up with.

Because you couldn’t possibly have feelings for him. You shouldn’t.

“Fuck, okay,” He slipped his fingers out of you and unbuttoned his pants, releasing his cock. You would never get used to the sight of it, precum already leaking out of the tip; the image itself sending shivers down your spine in anticipation of him.

He pressed back against you, grinding it against your fluttering pussy, going right back to making out with you. It was like he was devouring you whole, claiming every part of you like it had always belonged to him. You could feel yourself get carried away again, forgetting that this was just something he and you did now.

And then he froze.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I don’t have a condom.”

You were too far gone to even care anymore. Cupping his face, you pulled him into another messy kiss, beyond delighted when he moaned, still rubbing his length through your slick folds with a want that rivalled your own. “Put it in.”

Caleb gritted his teeth. “Pips, thats–”

“I’m on birth control,” you kissed his jaw. “And I trust you. I’ve always trusted you.”

That was undeniably the truth. He was the one person in the world that you didn’t have to think twice about when it came to anything, no matter what the situation. He blinked down at you, pupils blown wide with desire but somehow still so focused on you, holding your sides so gently as he hesitated, silently dealing with the conflict in his head.

“I…..are you sure?”

Oh, this sweet, considerate boy. How could you not love him? The thought was instantly forced to be a passing one as you push it away, refusing to acknowledge it.

“Caleb, if you don’t stick your dick inside of me right now, I will cut it off.” The threat earned you a winded chuckle from his end, the strain in his face from holding back so painfully evident. Realising he needed another push, you looked into his eyes, bucking your hips against him and licking your lips as you purred. “Now, fuck me.”

There was a reason you phrased it like that. Crude and so filthy, the words set out a challenge for him. If there was one thing you knew about Caleb, it was that he could never back down from a challenge. His eyes darkened as he grabbed both your wrists and pinned them together above your head with one hand, positioning his cock at your entrance.

Without another warning, he slammed into you, once again covering your mouth to soften the obscenely loud broken moan that left you. He pressed his fingers against your lips, smirking mischievously.

“This is what you wanted, hmm?” He groaned in your ear as he fucked you hard, making it increasingly difficult for you to stay silent. You knew he was doing it on purpose, remembering how he had briefly confessed that he liked it when you were vocal, but here? Here it was risky and stupid, and you couldn’t believe how into it you were.

“Yes,” You gasped, biting his hand at a particularly hard thrust, doing your utmost best to keep all your noises to a minimum. He was just so good, and the feeling of him bare inside of you was almost too much for you.

“God baby, you feel incredible,” he panted, never relenting on his pace for even a second. His breathing was heavy in your ear, almost pained, along with soft grunts that only succeeded in making you even wetter.

“So b-big,” you could only whimper, too caught up in it all to speak properly.

He had well and truly ruined you for anyone else. Your heart and mind were at war with each other, but your body was perfectly content with how he held you like this. With nothing between you, he fucked you raw, and it felt so much more intimate than you thought it would have. You could feel everything, hyperaware of every touch and kiss and overwhelming drag of his cock in your sobbing cunt.

For a moment, you almost wished it wasn’t this good. If only you had never succumbed to your desires that day, maybe you wouldn’t have found yourself in this position, fighting so desperately against feelings that felt so wrong and right at the same time. All this was supposed to have been a temporary fix, a means to an end. Not the start of something you could never see through.

When both of you came, it was intense and devastating, holding onto each other like nothing else mattered. You could feel him fill you up with his cum and as you went limp, one last terrifying realisation making itself known to you.

It wasn’t just sex.

A shattered breath escaped you at the revelation, and you shut your eyes, trying to reason with yourself one last time, but to no avail. Caleb surrounded you completely, holding you up upright with so much care, so deliberately, that it made total sense why you felt this way. With unending affection, he pulled you against him and kissed the crown of your head.

“Thats my girl.”

Except you weren’t. And it would be better for everyone if you remembered that.

You were writing.

It had been so long since you had been able to write like this, but the ability had come rushing back to you all of a sudden. Your fingers flew across your keyboard as you steadily typed, focused and satisfied at the work you were producing for the first time in months.

It was two in the morning when you finally snapped out of your concentrated state, yawning as you shut your laptop. Stretching, you quietly padded to your bathroom to get ready for the night and go to bed. You couldn’t believe you had written almost half of the sex scene when even the prospect of starting it had sounded so unachievable not too long ago.

Courtesy of Caleb, you had plenty of material to pull from.

You splashed water on your face, hoping the cool temperature of it would help you stop thinking about him. To say you were frustrated with your feelings was an understatement; you outright despised them.

This was your fault, you knew damn well it was. If you were going to get a fuckbuddy, it should have been someone who you weren’t so close to, someone you had no personal connections with. Anyone but the best friend you've had since you were seven years old, who you knew like the back of your hand, who knew you like it was second nature to do so.

Gripping the sides of the sink, you shut your eyes, grounding yourself to the moment. Part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. How on earth did you let yourself get in such a predicament?

You needed it to stop. For these confusing feelings to leave before things got even more complicated than they already were. Somehow, you needed to forget about them.

But how could you possibly do that? How were you supposed to forget the deliberate way he kissed you, or how good he made you feel when he looked at you that way? How were you supposed to get the scent of his cologne out of your sheets and closet, or pretend like you didn’t know what it was like to be touched by him?

How on earth were you supposed to get over being in love with him?

You didn’t even notice him walking in.

Writing for your book again meant that you had fallen behind quite a bit when it came to the work you had due for the paper. As a result, you had to stay behind and work late on the articles you had to present to Jenna, stuck at your desk in the newsroom when it was almost nine-thirty at night.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Your eyes flickered up to find Caleb standing in front of your desk, one hand stuffed in his pockets and the other holding a bag of takeout from a diner that both of you liked. He gave you a soft, knowing smile that made your mouth go dry.

“Hey,” you straightened up in your seat, knowing that your posture tended to get worse the longer you wrote for. “You were looking for me?”

“Not exactly.” He grabbed a chair and parked it next to yours, sitting down. “I just figured you’d be working and forget to have dinner.”

“Oh.”

He was right, and you would have been embarrassed if this hadn’t happened before. Wordlessly, he began unpacking the takeout he had gotten. “Take a break for ten minutes and eat, okay?”

This was just like him. Knowing exactly when you needed to be taken care of while being well aware you could do just fine by yourself. You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him, apprehensively nodding slowly.

“Okay.”

You grabbed a fry and began to chew, turning to face him and away from the computer. He looked the same as always, unkempt hair and all. It was like he knew you were tired and a little out of it today without you even having to tell him, falling into a comfortable silence as he ate with you.

There wasn’t another soul in this world that knew you so intimately. In the past, this wouldn’t have scared you, because you were so used to him and the ways he fit into your life so perfectly. Now, it frightened you to no end, reminding you of how much you had to lose when it came to Caleb. He was the most precious person in your life, which made it so much easier to fear losing him.

If there were rules when it came to having a best friend, you were certain you had broken all of them. Number one: Don’t sleep with your best friend. Already off to a rough start with that one, it seemed, but there was nothing you could do about it anymore. Number two: Don’t fall for your best friend. You doubted you even needed to go over the rest of the rules. Breaking those two had caused you enough damage.

Finishing up his food, he took a sip of his soda, noticing you were watching him intently. For the first time in a long time, he couldn’t quite decipher the look in your eyes. It almost felt as if you were hiding it from him on purpose.

He tilted the soda cup to you, silently asking if you wanted some of his. You leaned closer and took the straw in your mouth, taking a couple of sips before looking away.

Something was off. “Is everything okay?”

You pressed your lips together and gave him a half smile. “Yeah, everything's fine.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes at you, reaching out and propping a finger under your chin, lifting your face so you were forced to look at him.

“Pipsqueak,” He mumbled, dropping his gaze to your mouth for a split second, but it was enough to make you feel like you were set on fire. Like you were made of porcelain, he swiped his thumb next to your lower lip, rubbing away a stray crumb that had stuck there from your food. Then he looked at your mouth again, subconsciously leaning towards you as if he was about to kiss you.

Immediately, you jerked out of his touch. Guilt ate away at you when you noticed how he reacted to this, the flash of hurt that passed over his face as he frowned. As much as you hated being the cause of it, the way he was looking at you has started to inexplicably hurt. You were unable to stop the tenderness that unfolded in your chest anymore. It was potent, too real to fight against.

“We should stop.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could think about them any further, inciting confusion. He retracted his hand, the corners of his furrowed eyebrows tilting upwards. “Dinner? Because we’re pretty much done with that anyway.”

You could have taken advantage of his confusion and put this conversation off for a while, but you knew that letting this go on any longer would end up being torturous.

“No, Caleb,” You looked away, trying to ignore the way your throat seemed to close in on itself. “I’m not talking about dinner.”

“Then what are you talking about?” His voice took on that impossibly soft tone it did when he was trying to understand how you were feeling to properly help or sympathise with you. It was something he did when you were younger and got hurt, and he wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t dealing with it alone.

Sucking in a breath of air, you looked down at your hands in your lap, playing with your fingers. “I think we should stop having sex.”

A beat passed. You could feel the weight of his stare on you. “Okay.”

You weren’t sure where to go from there, your heart pounding within your ribcage like it was trying to escape. The light from your computer felt too harsh and the ticking of the clock hands was unnaturally loud in the stiff silence that settled over the two of you. Clearing his throat, he spoke again.

“Did…Did I do something?”

“No,” the caution yet dejected way he said it made you blurt that out quickly, refusing to let him think something was completely wrong. “You didn’t. At all. It’s just…..” You trailed off, biting your tongue and regretting bringing this up already. “I….I wrote the scene.”

“The scene?”

“The sex scene. In my book.” The awkwardness in your cadence is foreign to your ears and his. You had never been so apprehensive around him because you had never had a reason to. This was a first you despised vehemently, scorning the way you had to phrase everything so delicately, as if you didn’t, the damage caused would be irreparable.

“Right.” Now he had an unreadable look in his eyes too, matching yours.

“Right,” you echoed softly. “So there's no reason for anymore…...research.” Because research had spiralled into forgetting your regular roles when it came to each other. Research had made you aware of feelings that had been dormant your entire life and should have stayed that way.

In an ironic twist of fate, you had literally fucked around and found out.

“I see.”

You didn’t know what possessed you to keep talking when it was so obvious that both him and you wanted nothing more than to move on from this conversation. You risked a glance at him to find him aimlessly tracing the edge of his soda cup, eyes trained on the straw. “So we can go back to being just friends. Regular friends.”

The clarification made you wince. When his eyes met yours again, you were surprised to find something different in the way he looked at you– those dark purple depths swirling with an intensity that superseded their usual levels, startling you.

“We’ll always be friends, Y/n.”

Caleb didn’t call you pipsqueak. A minute detail that shouldn’t have shaken you at all, and yet here you were stuck on it in spite of the fact that he had just agreed to being friends again. Or rather, the normal definition of friends, because you weren’t ever anything more than that. You swallowed, turning back to your computer.

“Okay. I should get back to working on this article.”

Your dismissal of him was quiet but obvious. The air had started to get suffocating and you needed as much space from him as you could get until you sorted out the mess in your head, one that was your cross to bear. Your fault.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him nod and get to his feet, turning to leave, but hesitating for just a moment.

It was only when he exited the newsroom that you realised it wasn’t any easier to breathe without him there. It felt even harder now, like someone had their foot over your chest and was putting all their weight on it, letting gravity do the rest of the work. You pushed yourself away from your desk, the wheels under your chair smoothly rolling away until the back of it hit the wall behind you.

Even the impact of that wasn’t enough to shock you out of your misery. Surely, love wasn’t supposed to feel as cruel as it did right now, like claws sinking into your skin and making you bleed. It shouldn’t have felt wrong, but you knew that it was. Perhaps this was retribution for allowing yourself to indulge in something that was so clearly off-limits to you.

A familiar pressure built up behind your eyes as you turned resentful. The sting of your sorrow manifested as tears welled up and caught in your lower lashes. You shut your eyes, but not before those tears slid down your face, cementing the bitter, indisputable reality of your heartbreak.

Caleb stayed away.

He had known damn well that whatever was between the two of you wasn’t forever. It wasn’t even real, solely for the sake of your writing and the book you were so proud of. It was his fault for getting caught up in it all and expecting you to never call it off, to stay in that limbo with him forever.

Saying no to you was something he wasn't capable of. Not when he was ten and you were eight, and you wanted the last piece of cake even though it was his favourite flavour. Not when he was fifteen and you used to beg him to let you wear his shirts because you liked how oversized they were on you. Not when you would give him puppy eyes and sweetly ask him to cook those braised chicken wings you loved so much.

And not when you needed help with writing about sex.

Even if it went against all his morals and everything he had forced himself to believe for the past twelve years he had known you. He had held himself together around you for as long as he could remember, hands to himself and thoughts strictly friendly. Caleb was used to the best friend role. He was good at playing it, even when the script pained him to recite, he did so anyway with a smile on his face.

Because smiling back at him was you. It was always you, with your bright eyes and angelic laughter.

Caleb had accepted this role when he was only nine years old and had stuck to it ever since. He let it consume him, living in ignorant bliss as he silenced the pleas of his heart and what it wanted, no, begged for.

How was he supposed to know where to go from here? The script had deviated too much for him to return to its safety. He knew how your lip gloss tasted, sweet and inviting and maddening, just like everything else about you.

So he stayed away from you and your cherry lip gloss, hoping the marks it had left all over him would fade.

It had been almost two weeks since Caleb last set foot in the newsroom.

Jenna was overjoyed and Tara was suspicious. The latter asked you where your ‘boyfriend’ was, to which you refused to look at her as you muttered the reminder: he’s not my boyfriend. It felt like you were reminding yourself more than her, lacking any of your usual annoyance.

You supposed this was your fault as well. It wasn’t like you had made any effort to reach out either, stuck in your pathetic little cycle of self-pity and fear. You felt his absence, though, cutting deep into you and leaving you with a Caleb-sized hole in your life. The last time you experienced something like this was when he left for university for the first time and you were finishing up your senior year, suddenly having to deal with not having him around for months on end.

At least he was calling you back then, and when you joined him at university, it never happened again. You hadn’t realised what a big part of your life he was until he was missing from it.

God, you missed him.

You missed that stupid, smug chuckle of his when he knew you were getting riled up because of something he said, and his terrible sense of humour. The smirk on his face when you were losing an argument, and how he’d stick his tongue out when he was concentrating on something. Hell, you missed the sound of his voice and the comfort it brought you.

After you finished your work for the day, you walked out of the newsroom and down the hallways of the university building. The cool evening air swept around you, making you think of one of Caleb's jackets that was still in your dorm from the last time he had been, draped over your desk chair. You almost wished you had it with you right now.

Your feet carried you to the dining hall, reminding you of your need to eat through the wall of your troubled thoughts. It was not so much hunger as it was a necessity. Your appetite had been less than robust these past few days, your emotions weighing you down in more ways than one. You didn’t have him to remind you to eat or sleep, or run like a normal human being.

Grabbing an apple to appease your stomach, you bit into it and looked around, mentally going over everything else you had to do that day. Start an essay you had due the next week, beg the members of your group to do their parts of the presentation that was worth a whopping thirty percent of your grade and polish the last scene you had written for your book.

It turned out that your turbulent emotional state had translated into you being more productive than ever, throwing yourself into your studies and writing like you had never before. Anything to avoid thinking about him and what you felt. An unhealthy coping mechanism for sure, but it worked for you.

Kind of.

Unable to stomach anything else, you tossed the core of the apple into a nearby dustbin and left the dining hall, eager to make it back to your room. You hadn’t slept very well lately, and you wanted to get all your work out of the way before crashing. Sleeping, you discovered, was another excellent course of action to take when you wanted to avoid facing something, and at least it wasn’t downright unhealthy. The dark circles under your eyes would certainly thank you.

When you turned the corner, he was there.

Caleb stood there, just a few paces away from you in all his six-two glory. His back was turned to you, but you knew it was him, deep in conversation with his friend, Gideon. You were unable to do anything but stare, your pulse picking up in speed at the sight of him. You wondered if the chasm he had created between the two of you had affected him as much as it had you.

When he bid farewell to Gideon and turned, you panicked. When he saw you, you remained rooted to the spot, watching as his steps faltered and came to a stop. He looked almost as tired as you felt, dawdling briefly before speaking.

“Hey.”

Hey. Hey? Was that all he could say after refusing to look your way for over a week? Your apprehension flared up into anger, and you took three furious steps towards him, your docile stare melting into a glare.

“You sure talk a lot of shit about keeping you informed for someone who has been avoiding me.”

He winced. “I wasn’t….avoiding you.”

“Oh really? Could have fooled me.” You scowled at him as you took another step forward. You were pissed, and rightly so, but it stemmed more from how hurt you felt rather than any genuine anger.

Caleb didn’t bother to meet your eyes, opting to look off to the side instead. That stung a little more than you cared to admit. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Have you eaten yet?’ Barely five minutes around you, and he had already jumped into trying to take care of you. It was so infuriatingly like him.

Every time he didn’t want to face something, he would deflect and redirect the conversation. Your years together had taught you well, making it impossible for him to sidestep you even if he tried. You could tell he was avoiding you even when you were right in front of him.

“Stop changing the subject.”

You watched as his jaw tightened and relaxed, something he did when he was conflicted. All his tells were so laughably obvious to you, and yet you couldn’t make heads or tails of how he was acting right now, so forcibly distant and detached, like being close to you was painful. Your eyes burned.

“Do you hate me?” You asked, hating how your voice suddenly sounded so feeble. His eyes snapped back to yours, wide and defiant.

“I could never hate you.” The finality in the way he said it told you he was telling the truth, and yet, you couldn’t help but fall victim to the doubt creeping into your mind. He was looking right at you now– except he wasn’t really. It was more like he was looking through you.

“Then…then why?” You whispered, taking another tentative step forward. The space that both of you created, consciously or not, was unbearable. You just wanted things to go back to normal, was that so much to ask for?

“I don’t hate you. You just don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” You threw your hands up in the air in exasperation, wondering what the hell you had to do to make this conversation go somewhere, because right now it just felt like you were running in circles. “Caleb, please, just tell me why you’re avoiding me, because you are.”

He knew he was and hadn’t a single excuse, other than the reason he swore you never burdened you with. You were looking at him so pleadingly, grasping at straws to figure him out, but for the first time in his life, he found himself unable to give you an answer. Instead, his throat constricted, his anxiety keeping him silent.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Your face crumbled, and upon witnessing it, so did his heart. Your lower lip trembled like a leaf on a windy day, and you bit down on it to stop it from doing so, doing your best to stay composed. Running a hand through your hair, you let out a shaky sigh. “I knew it, I should have never– we shouldn’t have slept together. That should have never happened and now everything is fucked up, and its all because of me.”

Yes. No. The answer wasn’t as straightforward as he needed it to be, and it paralysed him. The anguish you felt was on display for him and anyone who happened to walk by you to see, plain as day, as it twisted your features. It felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut when you backed away from him.

Turning away, you walked off. You had ruined things, you were sure of it, and it killed you. Once again, you let the rift between him and you grow with every step you took to escape the crash you had been responsible for.

A hand on your wrist. You gasped as he caught you, spinning you around and forcing you to face him once again.

Caleb had followed you into the gardens.

“Do you regret it?”

The question cut through you, and you gaped at him. The fervour you were so used to seeing in him suddenly returned, burning brightly in his eyes as he pinned you in place with them, his grip on your wrist never letting up. Question for question, with neither of you getting the answers you wanted.

You scoffed, rapidly blinking away the tears that you felt coming on. “If it's the reason things are weird between us, then yes! I do regret it. I need my best friend, Caleb. I need you.”

How could you not need him? He was your constant, the one person who had been by your side through thick and thin. You needed him in your life, by your side, in whatever way you were allowed to, even if it wasn’t what you truly wanted anymore.

He let go of your wrist. “I can’t do it.”

Your biggest fear was coming true right in front of your very eyes, and you hadn’t the faintest idea of how to stop it. It was taking form, bleeding into existence. You were losing him.

“You can’t do what?”

“I can’t be your friend. I just can’t.” He shook his head, shutting his eyes like he couldn’t bear to look at you.

Your voice comes out weak. Small. “But you said we’ll always be friends.”

“Well, I lied, okay! I can’t be your friend, not when–” He sucked in a breath, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to reign himself in, stopping his outburst before it could happen. It wasn’t fair to you, none of this was, but he was at his breaking point. “I could do it before, but not anymore.”

“Why?” You whispered, those tears you had so valiantly fought off surging back. Once again, you felt like you had been trampled on, pinned down by a merciless gravity that had no regard for your need to breathe. You weren’t sure there was a reason to fight against it anymore.

He looked up at the darkening sky, deflating. Staying away from you hadn’t made it any better– if anything, it had only made it worse, his yearning to be beside you bubbling to an all-time high. There wasn’t a point in hiding anymore, not when it was turning out to be detrimental rather than soothing.

“Because,” he paused, peering up at the cloudy sky. He couldn’t see the stars. “I can’t go back to being your friend when I’ve tasted you. How am I supposed to act like I’ve never kissed you when I’ve had you in my bed? To pretend like I don’t know how it feels to have you like that? God, Y/n, I can’t do it.

Caleb, whom you had viewed as strong and untouchable all your life. Caleb, whom you had endlessly looked up to, sounded almost tortured, like it pained him to even have to tell you this.

“What are you saying?”

You hoped you didn’t look as terrified as you sounded. It felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from beneath you, but the ground underneath it was falling apart too, leaving you to stumble around and try to find your footing amidst the cracks that remained. If you fell now, you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to get up.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You had already fallen, and hard.

Caleb was stripped of his usual self-assuredness and confident smile. He was laid bare there in front of you, fixing you with a look that was so pained it tore through you.

“I’m in love with you.”

The confession ripped through you, although you didn’t register it at first. Those five words felt so improbable to have been said by him to you of all people that the only thing you could feel was disbelief. It just didn’t make sense. Why would something you longed to hear so badly be said with such sadness?

He mistook your stunned silence for aversion. He should have stopped there, given up and walked away, but now that he had finally, finally let it out, it was hard to stop. It was like a dam had broken within him; everything he had ever kept to himself when it came to you rushed out all at once.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n,” he said again, scoffing slightly at himself. No nicknames, just your name spoken in that reverent tone, like you were a divine being he was a devout follower of. “And it kills me because I know you’ll never see me as anything more than a best friend. You’ve made that very clear, and I never want to overstep, so I stayed away from you.”

“Caleb–”

He didn’t let you cut in. “I could do it when I didn’t know what it felt like to have you as something more than friends. The moment we crossed that line, it was all over for me. I would be your friend until I died if I didn’t know.” His hands were shaking, but they stayed by his sides, fingers curled into frustrated fists as he rambled.

“I–”

“But I can’t, Pips. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be your best friend when I’ve loved you my entire life.” And you’re falling all over again, gravity pulling you down, down, down as something unfurled in your chest. “So please just–”

“Goddamnit Caleb, would you just shut up for one fucking minute!?”

You hadn’t meant to snap, but he was seriously to piss you off, going on and on without giving you the chance to speak your mind. Immediately, he clamped his mouth shut, preparing himself for the inevitable rejection he had imagined too many times to count in his head. You, on the other hand, thought you were going to faint, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. It was everything you had convinced yourself was impossible.

And yet…

You kept your eyes locked onto his as you closed the distance between the two of you, so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, combating the chill in the evening air. Swallowing, you asked.

“You’re in love with me?”

He clenched his jaw and nodded. He knew what the consequences were, he was ready for them. It was about time he faced the truth anyway.

What he didn’t expect was for you to start laughing.

You clamped a hand over your mouth as incredulous laughter left you, eyes practically sparkling. Oddly enough, it sounded a little watery, like you were crying at the same time.

And then he realised you were, in fact, crying, tears streaming down your face. Alarmed, he stepped forward and cupped your face, instinctively wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs. This did nothing to dampen your hysterical laughter as you leaned into his touch.

“What the fuck?” He muttered, concern overtaking his previous, heartsick expression. “Are you dying or something?”

“Or something,” you managed to get out, gripping his arms, “We’re so stupid.”

“That…..okay, I’m officially confused. And a little scared.”

“Caleb,” you whispered once you stopped giggling, lethally soft. You looked up at him adoringly, eyes shining and tinged slightly red from your tears. “I’m in love with you, too.”

He froze, mouth falling open. He didn’t have to say anything, though, because honestly, he had said enough. It was your turn now.

You leaned further into his touch, nuzzling your cheek against his palm. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time, but I only realised after….after everything that happened between us.” You flushed, trying to word it as delicately as possible. “And I drove myself crazy because I thought you’d never see me that way–”

“I’ve always seen you that way.” He breathed out, those captivating eyes of his trained on you in wonder. Butterflies came to life in your stomach.

“– So I called it off. I said we needed to stop because I was so scared I’d lose you.”

By the time you finished, you were both staring at each other wide-eyed. His grip on you tightened, one hand falling to your waist as he tugged you closer.

“You love me?”

“I love you,” you nodded. “It just took me a while to figure it out.”

“Pipsqueak.” You had never been more grateful than you were right then to hear that stupid petname. “Oh my god, we are stupid.”

Without another word, Caleb pulled you into a kiss. You reciprocated instantly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you smiled against his lips, unable to contain yourself anymore. He kissed you like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do, holding you like you were precious, which to him, you undoubtedly were. It was your first proper kiss with him without any pretence or excuse surrounding it, and you couldn’t have asked for more.

Chuckling when you dissolved into more giddy giggles, he wiped away any stray tears from your face and rested his forehead against yours. After all these years waiting and hoping that you’d feel the same way, he knew he’d never let you go now.

“I love you, too.” It was a relief to say out loud and to your face, coming out of hiding and letting the truth of his feelings sit out in the light. You pecked his lips again and hugged him, revelling in his warmth and the delight of your feelings being returned. Your best friend loved you back, and everything in the world made sense again.

“Don’t be my best friend,” You mumbled fondly, cheek against his shoulder as you laid out your final request. “Just be mine.”

He smiled, an expression so dazzling you’d never forget it. “I’ll always be yours.”

When Caleb looked back at the sky, he could see the stars.

“Are you done?”

“Shh.”

You rolled your eyes, flopping onto the pile of plushes on your bed as you pulled out your phone and went through your messages. To be fair, it had barely been two minutes since you handed him your laptop, but you were impatient, wanting to know what he thought as soon as possible.

Caleb’s eyes were focused on the screen as he read, humming occasionally as he scrolled through the scene. If anyone had told you a year ago that you’d be letting him read a part of your writing, let alone a sex scene of all things, you would have either laughed in their face or had a mental breakdown.

Yet here you were. Life sure had a sense of humour.

Finally, after an agonising ten minutes, he spoke. “Wow.”

“Is it good?”

He shut your laptop and put it back on your desk carefully, before walking over to where you were. Then, he dropped himself onto the bed as well, purposely caging you in his arms and making sure you were trapped under his weight. Squealing, you hit his arm playfully.

“Caleb!”

Your boyfriend laughed mischievously, lifting his head so you could see the smirk that curled on his lips. “It was good. Very good.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank god.”

“So I must be really good in bed, huh?”

There it was. You groaned as you tried to push him off of you, even though you knew it was a futile task. “Don’t even try, you smug asshole.”

“What?” He asked, dripping in faux innocence. “I mean, you did use me for research purposes. Is it not a fair assumption to make?” He was so proud of it, and knew damn well that the entire sex scene he had just read had been falicitated because of him. Every part of it had been pulled from things the two of you had done, the thought of which made your skin heat up and your cheeks burn.

“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, giving up on trying to get him to stop squashing you. Instead, you adjusted, curling into him. Accepting this, he switched your positions, pulling you on top of him and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You like it.”

“Unfortunately.”

You yelped when he pinched your side, but it dissolved into giggles when he began peppering kisses all over your face. Slipping his arm around your waist, he held you close, grining against your skin. If you had to stay like this forever, in his arms and under the glow of his radiant smile, you would be content.

“You’re an amazing writer, Pipsqueak,” he cradled your face in his hands, his love for you so achingly obvious in the way he looked at you that you wondered how you had never noticed it before. Rubbing his fingers against your cheek, he kissed your nose. “It would be just as great even if I hadn’t– uh– assisted.”

Though you snickered at him, you couldn’t stop yourself from beaming at his praise for your work. “I’m glad you did though,” you let him pull you closer, arm looping around your waist as you propped a leg over his. “Otherwise we might have never figured our shit out.”

He snorted. “Thank god for research. You would have kept me in the friendzone forever.”

“Hey!”

He silenced any further protests that you could have made, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. All possible complaints fled your mind the moment he did, eagerly kissing him back. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of this and you had no idea how you had survived for so long while denying yourself of it.

Caleb had loved you for twelve years, steadily standing by your side and holding your hand even when you couldn’t see it. He had walked beside you through it all, the highest of highs and lowest of lows, lifting you up high over his shoulders with a grin on his face. He would never leave you behind, because he was your home. The one you had grown up with and wanted to wake up to everyday for the rest of your life.

He had taught you love without imposing it on you, silently showing it to you with every little thing he did. Your best friend. Your love. It had taken you a long time to catch up, but when you finally made it to the finish line, you found him waiting there for you patiently, holding out his hand for you to take.

The next time Tara called him your boyfriend, you didn’t correct her.

fin.

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