ruiyuki - Tumblr blog

ruiyuki · 1 month ago

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sugar pit

tags: pussy eating, a handjob, unprotected piv sex, loss of virginity, caleb and mc's usual What Art We relationship. if the whole "Caleb is MC's brother but also not" thing isn't for you now's the time to click away!

It doesn't matter how many times you tell yourself you won't do it—

“Caleb!”

—without fail, you run and jump into his arms. Caleb catches you every time.

You cling to him, burying your nose in his shoulder. He smells like work, leather and metal and gasoline. Sweat, too, but that you don't mind. It's something that's Caleb's. You like his smell. When you pull back from him he's smiling wide, eyes soft as he looks down at you.

“Hi, pips. Didya miss me?”

“Missed you enough not to ask why you look like haven't slept in three days,” you reply lightly. You poke his cheek with a finger. “Did you miss me?”

“Always do, pretty girl.” Caleb readjusts his bag, and you tug on his arm.

“Then let's go,” you say, and Caleb lets you lead the way.

“I'm happy you came to pick me up, baby, but next time you can just have me come straight to your door, okay?” Caleb steps behind you, around you, moving himself to the part of the sidewalk closest to the street. His hands are on you when he does, gently, steering you on your arm, your lower back.

“But this way I get to spend more time with you.”

There's never enough of it. Time. You realised that, after Caleb died. Wished to turn it back, flip the hourglass, just another day, another minute, just one more second with Caleb.

Somehow you got your wish. You intend to make the most of it.

Caleb laughs and ruffles your hair. “Okay, smooth talker.”

This part is easy.

You're always ecstatic to see him, these first couple of hours. The joy is so fierce and intense you don't care about anything else; you're just happy Caleb is here, and that he's with you. You greedily drink in his affection, grab hold of anything he'll give to you, because you know that it's precious. Grains of sand in the hourglass.

You chat while you walk. You do most of the talking, as usual; Caleb can never say more about his work than ‘fine’ or ‘okay’ or ‘busy’. You try to accept this, even when it hurts. Even when the anger burns; even when it makes you want to shake him until the secrets fall out of his pockets.

“What do you wanna eat today? Should we stop by the store?”

You shake your head. “Dinner's waiting for you.”

Caleb is surprised; he smiles, bemused, and raises a brow. “Did you order in for us? Or did you make somethin’ and burn it again?”

"No,” you jab at his ribs with your elbow. “I cooked for you. And that was just the one time, you meanie.”

“For me?” Caleb is pleased. He pulls you close for a moment, arm swung around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your head. The warmth of it trickles all the way down to your toes. “Thank you, sweet girl. What'd I do to deserve that, huh?”

“Don't say thank you yet. Maybe you won't like it.”

“I like everything you do, baby.”

If you could, you'd eat those words instead of dinner. Pluck them right from the air and let them dissolve on your tongue, then swallow. Hoping you taste Caleb's voice in your throat.

Yeah, this part is easy.

It's good—it's how things are meant to be. It's not without effort: you have to pretend that Caleb's eyes haven't changed, that his complexion hasn't become paler, more drawn. You have to pretend not to see that the edges of him have sharpened. This Caleb is harder. Quieter. His quick, easy smile has lost about ten percent of its previous shine. It is a loss you grieve very much, but—

you're well acquainted with grief, now.

For the first couple of hours, you're always very good about ignoring all of this.

You walk Caleb all the way to your apartment, and line your shoes up next to his in the hallway. His sneakers are huge and well-loved, logo old and faded on the sides. He always buys a same pair of new ones, then wears them out until he can't use them anymore.

You should spend more money on yourself, you tell him when he buys you flowers, heels, a watch, a nice coffee machine. Caleb never listens to you, just smiles.

I just like spoilin’ my girl, that's all.

You've begun to watch your words more closely when you talk about things you like.

“You even set the table? What's goin’ on here?” Caleb narrows his eyes at you playfully when you enter your home. “It's not my birthday for a while yet, pips.”

“Don't be silly.” You move to the stove and turn it on low so the pans already assembled there can start warming up. Caleb did this for you for years, day in, day out. Breakfasts and lunches and dinners, snacks from the corner store. He used his pocket money to get two of everything you liked.

You ate it together on the pavement just outside your home.

“Sir? Your seat is ready,” you say, and pull out his chair with a bow. Caleb sits down with a chuckle, and you serve him food. Things he likes, lots of it. Rice and fish and sour fermented things. Fried vegetables, crispy and still-warm.

“You've finally gotten good at this, huh? No burned edges this time,” he teases.

“Like you didn't snatch up the burnt ones before I could eat them.” You push more food on Caleb's plate. He's too thin, these days. It makes you wonder if he remembers to eat when he doesn't do it with you.

Caleb insists on doing the dishes after, and this you allow, though you help him dry and put things away.

“I got you dessert, too. Do you want it while we watch a movie?”

Caleb looks at you, hands covered in bubbles. “Why're you bein’ so nice to me today, huh? Did you do something bad again?”

You huff. “Fine. No dessert for you, then.”

Caleb splashes you with soapy water in retaliation, and you dodge, laughing. You lean your head against his shoulder, just for a moment. It's nice. You're punishing yourself.

“I just want you to have nice things.”

Caleb shifts, pressing his weight into you until you move away again. “I already got you, pretty girl. I don't need anythin’ else.”

You turn your back to him, hang up your towel to dry. You keep your voice level. “What about a girlfriend?”

The faucet runs, then stops. “You know I'm not dating anyone. Not planning to, either.”

“I'm not pretending to be your girlfriend at work again,” you warn him. It was awful. Nothing like back when Caleb went to DAA. His colleagues were nice, but you felt like you were burning alive with Caleb holding your hand, fingers interlaced, talking to some of the guys he worked with. Kissing you on the cheek when you left.

It was so nice. It was the worst kind of punishment he could have given you.

“Why not? You're so good at it.”

Like anything was difficult with Caleb. You didn't even need to do anything; just stand there, next to him, looking at him like you were in love. It required no effort on your part.

“I don't like lying,” you say simply. “What do you wanna watch tonight? You can pick.”

Caleb looks at you with a serious expression. For a moment you think he'll continue about the girlfriend stuff, but then he shakes his head. “Actually, I wanted to take you somewhere tonight. You not too tired?”

“Depends. Where are we going?”

Your breath comes in white little puffs, clouds that trickle up to the night sky. It's very clear out tonight; the moon is at three-quarters, so it's not too dark, not even here at the outskirts of Linkon.

Caleb hands you a blanket from his car, then zips up your jacket all the way to your chin.

“’S cold out, baby.”

You marvel at all the things he pulls out of the back. A thermos with hot chocolate, a heating pad, camping chairs that unfold with one shake. And that's not counting all the stuff he usually has in there: first aid kits, fixing tools, flashlights, rechargeable batteries. Gum and water and sanitary pads and towels. Your favourite chapstick, a sweater for when you get cold.

Apocalypse Caleb, you called him when you first found out. He laughed.

“What if I'd said I wanted to stay in? Look at all this,” you say. “You prepared so much.”

Caleb shrugs a little. “Then we would've stayed in.” He tests the camping chair, pushing it securely into the ground. “Here you go, pips, go sit down.”

You do as he says, tucking the blanket over your lap. Your nose is cold, but the rest of you is very warm. Caleb insisted you put on more clothes before you went.

You let your head fall back to look up at the stars. They blink back at you; little dazzling lights, far far up ahead. So far out of reach. Just like Caleb.

The first couple of weeks after he came back you felt like you were in a stupor. Dazed. You'd forgotten how to walk and talk and breathe the way you normally do. You didn't know how to look at your brother anymore, the person you loved most in the world. You felt like you were burning out of your skin being in the same room as him. You felt like you were dying when you weren't.

“Earth to pipsqueak.” Caleb's finger pokes your cheek. “You got a deep thinkin’ look on your face. What's on your mind?”

You shift, turning your face to him. He's sat down right next to you; the arm of his camping chairs right up against yours. Absentmindedly, you fiddle with the little net at the end that lets you put cups in there.

“I was thinking about when I saw you again for the first time.”

Caleb smiles a little, but it's not a very happy smile. “Not a fun day, huh.”

“It was the best day.”

You cried so much you couldn't open your eyes anymore. Blindly, you clung to Caleb, refusing to let go. When he had to leave you for a minute to sort out his Colonel duties you had a full-blown panic attack.

He had to rush to your side to work you through it, warm hand rubbing your back, telling you listen to his breathing. Just focus on me, pips. On me, okay? I'm right here.

This is the tricky part.

You love Caleb very much. You're so, so happy he's here.

You're so, so furious.

Some days you think that this anger is the only thing that sustains you.

“Are you still upset with me?”

Your big brother never had to ask how you were feeling. He always already knew, even when you didn't want him to.

There's lots of things you don't know about me now.

You look back up at the sky. “What will you do if I say yes?”

Caleb takes your hand, rubbing warm fingers over your cold ones. “I'd ask you to tell me how I can make it better.”

I want you to turn back time. I want you to let me go inside first. I want to die in your place. I want you to bury me.

“You already make everything better.”

Caleb makes a small noise, like he's in pain. You squeeze his fingers, and he squeezes back.

“I wish...” he trails off, then sighs. “I wish you were angrier with me.”

You laugh a little. Wisps curl up from your mouth; cold air is sucked back inside. It tastes clean on your tongue. “If I was any angrier I'd explode.”

“So you are angry with me.” Caleb's voice is very soft. “Why haven't you shown me? You can yell at me if you want. Or hit me. I don't mind.”

“No.” You look at him again. His eyes are dark. Everything is, out here, in the middle of the night. The only light comes from the stars. “That's your punishment. You have to stay with me for the rest of your life, and you only get to have nice things. I'll never hit you. I'll never curse at you. You'll let me take care of you whenever I want, and you'll never get to see me angry again.”

The only thing that could hurt him more is removing yourself from him, and you can't do that. This will have to do. You want him to suffer. You want him to be punished, every day, for dying, for leaving, for not seeking you out again.

You’re a bad person. Maybe it's yourself you're so angry with, all the time.

Caleb lets out a deep breath beside you. “I'm sorry, baby. I'm really sorry.”

You don't care. You'd love him even if he weren't.

Caleb takes your hand, presses a kiss to your palm. “If that's what you want, I'll do it.”

“There's one more thing,” you say. Your curl your fingers over his cheek, stroke along his jaw. “I'm not pretending to be your girlfriend anymore. You can tell your colleagues we broke up.”

Caleb's breath hitches. “Because you don't like lying?”

It hurts, when Caleb lies to you. It hurts because you love him so much, even with all his lies.

“Yes. Also, what if you meet someone you want to date? Or maybe I'll go on one.”

You've never even been kissed. There was always Caleb, always only him, and then there was school, and somehow no one ever even seemed to be interested in you anyway. Then Hunter exams, work, death. Only recently have you begun to consider that while you may forever be cursed to want what you can't have the most, maybe you should give the experience a try with someone else.

Even if it's just to see what it's like. Even if it's just so you can fantasize about Caleb's hands touching you better.

Caleb is still next to you. He does that sometimes, where his whole body stops. But underneath everything is moving, buzzing, like there's an animal in a cage wanting to get free. A plane stuck in forever takeoff.

“I'm not going to date anyone. Who are you going on dates with?” He asks quietly.

You shrug a little. You kick your feet, scuffing dirt on your toes. “No one yet.”

“Is there somewhere you wanna go?” Caleb presses. “Or something you want to do? I'll do it with you. I'll take you anywhere you want.”

The anger fills you. You're so happy he's here, your Caleb. He wants so badly to never hurt you, but his presence is one big hurt. It's a kind of pain you crave, can never have enough of. But it crushes you. Every day again.

You look up and see a star blink at you and then disappear. There's another, but this time it blinks red. A plane flying overnight.

“I've never kissed anyone,” you say, still looking up. “Tara was shocked when I told her. If I can't find someone on my own she said she'd help me.”

“Baby.” Caled sounds desperate. He's holding your hand very tightly, so you look at him. “You don't ever have to kiss anyone if you don't want to. Or—” Caleb exhales. He looks tense, like he's upset but doesn't want to show it. “Or you can do it with me.”

You frown. If he's going to sound so reluctant saying it he shouldn't say it at all.

“But I do want to,” you mumble. “And I wanna do it with someone who wants it too. I don't want it to be pretend.”

“Then it can just be practice. How's that sound, pip? You can practice with me as much as you want. See if you like it, and if you don't, then it doesn't count.”

You're conflicted.

On the one hand, you want to take everything Caleb gives you. And this is one of the things you want most, have been wanting most, since you were about fifteen and started to understand that the way you felt about your brother wasn't like how most people felt about their siblings.

I'm not your brother, Caleb's voice says in your head. I'm tired of playing house.

It's an offer that's too good to refuse. But—

You're very angry with him. And you worry that if he gives you this you'll let some of it slip through; after everything you just said to him about punishment it'd be an embarrassment to your integrity if you just gave it up.

Unlike Caleb, you're not a liar. Some things that are true you just keep to yourself.

“What do you think?”

Caleb is smiling his warm big brother smile. You relax instantly; at this point, it's Pavlovian. You see Caleb, and you know you're safe. Nothing will happen to you as long as you're with him.

Caleb senses that you're about to give in, because he adds, “We can even do it now, if you want to. You want to, baby? Come sit on my lap, and I'll kiss you.”

You throw off your blanket. Stand up. Take one step, and sink down on his lap. Caleb's arms wrap around you immediately, holding you tight against him. His hands squeeze you through your jacket. Very faintly, you feel his heartbeat. It's fast.

“I don't want you to force yourself,” you say. But you're already here. If he makes you leave now, you’ll cry yourself to sleep tonight.

“I never force myself with you, pretty girl.” Caleb's calloused fingers stroke your cheek. He pulls on your chin so you face him properly.

Very, very gently, his lips press against yours. They're soft—even softer than you thought they'd be, and you've spent a lot of time thinking about Caleb's lips. Your pulse is rabbit-quick, heart threatening to grow wings and fly out of your chest.

You breathe against Caleb. The cold air prickles in your nose, but Caleb is very warm. He always has been. Your sun. Your summer in a bottle. He moves his lips against yours, and you copy him. Curious, you poke the tip of your tongue against his lower lip.

Caleb groans. He opens his mouth, then, and presses you against him tighter. He slides his own tongue against yours, and you taste hot cocoa. The pudding you got him for dessert. Your head feels light, fuzzy, like you're way up in the clouds next to all those stars. Your heart thunders in your ears.

When you pull away you realise you're panting; Caleb is, too. He's hard underneath you.

Suddenly you're overcome with what you've just done. Whose dick is hard under your legs just from kissing you. You duck your head into Caleb's shoulder so he can't see your face and he lets you, running his big hands soothingly over your back.

“How was that, pips?” he asks. His voice is hoarse. “Did you like practicin’ with me?”

“I don't know,” you say muffled into his neck.

“You feelin’ a little shy? Want me to take you home?”

“I don't know.”

Caleb laughs a little, then sighs. It's a happy sigh. He squeezes you against him tightly, then stands up holding you in his arms. “My little girl is so cute I could eat her up,” he says fondly. “C'mon. Let's go back.”

You don't protest. You feel like you're burning up again. Caleb tucks you into your seat, clicks on your seatbelt, and loads all the stuff he brought back into the back. The car engine rumbles to life under your feet, and then you're gliding back into the city.

Caleb's hand is on your leg while he drives. Just below the knee, fingers squeezing down occasionally. You wish he'd move it lower. You wish he'd stop the car and kiss you again. You wish he'd fuck you on the backseat.

The radio is on low, and Caleb hums along to the song. You don't feel angry so much anymore now; you're flushed, flustered, quiet.

You touch your hand to your lips and watch the world outside the window slip away in the dark.

“Up you go now.”

“Hmm?” you ask sleepily. “Caleb?”

“Yes, baby. I'm right here.”

There's the sound of a car door closing, and air rushes past you. You're floating, no, flying—it's Caleb, carrying you. Your body moves with the sway of his feet, boots going thump thump thump along the hallway to your apartment door. You rub at your eyes.

“I'm sorry I fell asleep.”

He looks down at you and smiles. “Don't be. You were feelin’ all tired, weren't you? Now you can go back to sleep in your bed.”

You don't want to go back to sleep. If you have to be in bed you want Caleb there with you, kissing you more. Even if it means you won't be able to look him in the eye tomorrow.

“I'm not sleepy anymore now.” You press your finger against the lock, and the door clicks open. Caleb steps inside, toes off his boots, then continues into the living room to set you down on the couch. He kneels to take off your shoes.

“I can do it,” you say, nudging at his hands. “Caleb—”

“I know. But let me do it for you.”

You sink back into the cushions and watch him for a moment. “I've decided,” you tell him.

Caleb looks up at you. He's finished with your shoes. His hand is wrapped around your ankle, and strokes up, along your calf, over your knee. “Decided on what?”

“I want to practice more.” Your cheeks burn when you say it. It's dark inside, just low light from a table lamp behind you, but you can see Caleb much better compared to when you were out stargazing.

It means he can see you much better, too.

Caleb's hand squeezes your leg, moves a little higher. His eyes look bright. Eager. Angry. “Yeah? You sure you're not too tired?”

You nod, and zip off your jacket. You're suddenly very warm—the extra layers Caleb insisted you wear for your little trip stick to your skin, sweaty and too-tight. Caleb, still kneeling, helps you with your jacket, folding it neatly over the back of the couch. When you get stuck in your sweater he helps you with that, too.

He chuckles when you grab his zipper and bend closer to pull off his jacket all the way. He's wearing a fleece sweater underneath, and that has to go, too. You pull on it impatiently, and once it's off, tug on Caleb's shoulders. Come closer, your hands say. I want you closer.

You're angry again.

You think Caleb might be, too, because he doesn't kiss you so gently this time. He's wound tight, a wire ready to spring, and licks into your open mouth like he'll die if he doesn't. The kiss is harder, messier, spit and teeth, Caleb half-crawling, half-crouching over you and pressing you into the cushions. His knee is in between your thighs, dangerously close to your wet hot core, the part of you that's burning brightest. Burning for him. For his touch.

Your hands roam over his chest, dig into his hair, pull on his necklace. The metal is warm from his skin, and the chain digs its teeth into your fingers. Caleb moans when you pull on it, pull him closer to you.

Caleb's hands are in your hair, too, cradling your skull, moving you below his hungry mouth. You make sounds, too, little hitching breaths, whines that he swallows whole. Your body is hot. You want him so, so badly.

You've always wanted him. Always chased him. Curled up at his side, hanging off his arms, perched on his shoulders.

Look, Caleb, I'm flying!

He'd make you fly for real one day, Caleb promised. Once he's a pilot, he can take you anywhere. See anything. Even way beyond the clouds.

You start to cry.

Caleb jerks back as if shocked, big hands coming to rest on your cheeks. His eyes flit over your face, brows pinched. “Oh, pips, baby, what's wrong? What's wrong?” He hugs you close and rocks you, just like he did when you were little. “Did I hurt you? I'm sorry.”

You hurt me all the time. You hiccup against his shoulder, tremble when he pets your hair. Try to breathe, chest heaving, blood rushing fast.

“Hey, talk to me. What's got you so upset, huh?”

You're so angry. You're so angry you can't talk for a moment, mouth nothing-words against Caleb's shirt. “Can't—” you hiccup again. “Can't tell you.”

“Gonna make me guess? I'm reaaal good at it.” Caleb shifts to sit on the couch, lifting you on his lap. You bury your head in his shoulder, and he tucks your hair behind your ear before stroking it again.

“Guess number one: you didn't like the kissing.”

You shake your head. You liked the kissing very much.

“Hmm... Guess number two: you're mad at me. Am I right?”

Yes. No. Kind of. Not really. You're upset Caleb can't give you what you want. You're angry at yourself for kissing him anyway. You knew this would happen, so why why why did you do it?

Because you love him so much. Because you've never wanted anyone but him. You want so badly for this to be real, and it can't be. You're the worst kind of person, greedy and cruel, because even after you got what you wanted more than anything else in the world—Caleb, alive, different, changed, but not dead, not in the ground, not blown to pieces—you still want more.

Caleb takes your silence as a yes, and he kisses your head. “See? I told you I'm real good. Now how can I fix it, baby? Why are you upset at me?”

“What if—” your voice comes out scratchy. You sniffle, start again. “What if I wanted to do other things? Not just kissing. Would you practice with me then too?”

Caleb is silent for a moment before answering. “I told you, pips. Whatever you wanna do, I'll do it with you.”

You push up suddenly, twisting so you can look at him. Your nails dig into his chest; your vision is blurry with tears. “I hate it when you do this. When you act like this. I'm so angry at you, all the time. You lie to me, you hurt me, and it doesn't even—doesn't even matter, because I—” the tears fall again, heavy and wet, “because I love you so much. I just let you. I just hurt.”

A sob wracks your body, and you fall back against Caleb, shaking. His arms come around you and squeeze you so tight it's painful.

“Oh, pip.” Caleb almost sounds like he's crying, too. “Baby. I don't want you to hurt. I don't want anything to hurt you, even me. Least of all me.” He lets out a shuddering breath. “Can you tell me what it is I'm doing that's making you so angry? You sure it's not ‘cause we kissed?”

You shake your head.

“Then why? What am I actin’ like, pretty girl? Tell me and I'll fix it.”

“Like—like it doesn't matter. Like you'd do whatever, and none of it really matters. Like I'm just using you.”

Caleb noses against your forehead. “Everything I do with you matters, baby. And I like it when you use for me stuff you want.”

“I don't want it like that,” you say quietly. “If you don't feel the same way I do, I don't want it.”

That's a half-lie. You want it. You take it all, Caleb's touches, the kisses he drops on your head, the hand he holds yours with in a crowd, the groceries he buys for you, the time he makes for you, his calls, his texts, his warmth, everything.

But all of those things fall under safe territory. Things that can be explained away into the familiarity of the act, because Caleb's always taken care of you. Kissing and dating and sex is something else, something that you can't bear to lie to yourself about. To have Caleb lie to you about.

Caleb is very quiet. He's hard under you again, something neither of you acknowledge.

“Then how do you feel, pips?” he asks finally. You draw up your knees and curl your hands in your lap.

You knew this question was coming. This is what you were afraid of, letting him so close, letting him touch your want, your anger, your fucked-up desire. Some of it spilled out. He asks questions you can never answer, except now you did.

“I can't tell you.”

“Do you want me to guess again?” You hear the smile in Caleb's voice. He likes playing with you. He likes when you make him work for it, whatever it is.

“It's a secret. You can't guess it.”

“Then do you wanna trade?” Caleb says softly in your ear. “I'll give you my secret, and you give me yours.”

Caleb has so many secrets now. So many things he hasn't told you, so many things you don't even know to ask about. You promised each other you'd never keep anything from each other, years ago. But Caleb broke that promise, and now there's a whole wall of things left unsaid dividing you.

Of course you want to know.

“Then you go first. And it has to be a good secret. I won't tell you if you try to trick me.”

Caleb hums and leans back against the couch, gently wiping at your cheeks. “My secret's that I really liked kissin’ you, pip. I was so happy you let me, ‘cause I've been thinking about doing that for a long time.”

Caleb's thumb is still stroking over your cheek, even though you're pretty sure there's no more tears left to clean up. As expected, his secret isn't as heavy as yours, but the words pierce through you regardless.

He's thought about it for a long time. What's a long time? A month? A week? A lonely year in deepspace?

“I liked it too,” you say in a small voice.

Caleb's eyes crinkle into little crescent moons. He's smiling wide. “I'm so happy to hear that, baby. I want you to feel good. I want to make you feel good.”

Then make me feel good, is on the tip of your tongue. You can't say it. You need to think about how to respond, how to match Caleb's secret with your own in a way that won't repulse him forever.

“Is there anything else you've thought about for a long time?”

Caleb gazes at you with dark eyes. They're beautiful, framed by long dark lashes that kiss his cheek when they flutter closed. He's not closing them now, though; he's looking at you with a strange, serious expression.

“Yeah.”

When he doesn't elaborate, you push him. “Like what?”

You earn a tap on your nose for that. “Now who's trying to trick who, huh? It's your turn.”

You press your hands against Caleb's chest and look down at them while you speak. The words come slowly. Carefully.

“I guess that... my secret is the same as yours. I've thought about it for a long time, too.”

Caleb's heartbeat flutters under your palms. He echoes your question back at you: “And other things?”

You're burning again, a hot little flame that starts low in your stomach and blazes through your neck, your cheeks, your ears. Red all over.

You keep your eyes away from Caleb's, afraid of what he might say, and don't answer.

“You asked me, right? If I'd do other things too?” Caleb's voice is very close. His breath is warm on your cheek. “What other things, pip? What have you been thinking about doing with me?”

Your heart trips over itself. He's going to find out. He's going to know. He'll know and he'll be disgusted by you, he'll pull away from you, he'll finally be alive again and you still managed to ruin it all—

Caleb presses his lips to your jaw, once, then twice, then nudges you with his nose, his hands, to kiss you on the lips. “You can tell me,” he murmurs. “It's just me, pips. Only me here.”

He kisses you again, coaxing you out of your little shell. And you come crawling, because it's his voice that's calling your name. Caleb's hands slide over your arms, your waist, stop to squeeze at your hips. He lifts you, briefly, so he can grab your leg to straddle him.

You're so wet you're afraid he'll feel it, afraid he'll feel a wet little spot just like you're feeling his cock strain against his pants under you. When you break the kiss a thread of saliva keeps you connected. Without noticing one of your hands has wound itself in Caleb's hair, and you slide it lower to cup his cheek. His skin is warm and tanned. The freckles that grow darker in summer dance under your fingertips, and you map them with your eyes, putting together constellations on his cheeks. You always wished you'd get freckles, too, but unlike Caleb you just burned.

Even now, whenever you smell sunscreen you think Caleb. If you close your eyes you can feel his hands rubbing it on your cheeks, your arms, every part of you. Like a shield, like armour.

But even with all those layers—

“Still don't wanna tell me?” Caleb asks. His voice is rough and low, husked at the edges. You're this close to kicking him out so you can finger yourself while you still taste him on your lips, trying to fill the aching emptiness everything he does ignites in you.

—you're always burning.

“Tell me what you want. I'll give it you.”

“I want—”

You're just a person. Human. Weak with wants and needs. Everything has a limit, even you. Even your desires.

“I want you to touch me,” you whisper.

Caleb makes a low sound in the back of his throat. His dick twitches in his pants, and when you dare to look at his eyes you see they're blown so wide there's barely anything left of his usual violet.

“Where, baby? Where do you want me?”

You shake your head, whine. Caleb chuckles breathlessly.

“You're not makin’ it easy for me, princess. Is it here?” He moves his hand from your hip to your thigh, squeezing. “Or here?” His other hand travels up, all the way to the back of your neck.

“I can't. You'll hate it,” you manage to force out. “It'll ruin everything. And then you'll leave, and I can't—I can't lose you again—”

You thought you were done with crying, but tears threaten to spill again. Caleb shushes you. “I'm not goin’ anywhere. I'll never you leave, pip, I promise. No matter what you say to me. No matter how angry you are, or how much you cry. I'm always here.”

Can you believe him? Can you trust him?

And if not Caleb, who's left?

“I want to touch you,” he whispers. “All over. You just tell me where. I want it.”

You close your eyes. You take the hand on your thigh, and bring over, up, right over where your jeans zip closed. You're catching fire.

“Right here, huh?” Caleb says. There's a tremble in his voice. “Do you wanna take off your pants when I do?”

Eyes still closed, you nod once.

Immediately, Caleb's moving, hoisting you up with both his Evol and his own strength. Your eyes fly open in surprise, and you see he's taking you to your bedroom. For all his hurry you're laid on the bed oh so gently, and then his fingers are working open button—zipper—shimmy down—

And a thumb hooks around your underwear. Caleb's breathing fast, eyes glued on the wet spot right in the centre of it. He strokes his thumb over it, and your hips jerk in surprise and arousal.

“Can I—” Caleb groans and presses his forehead against your naked thigh for a moment. When he looks up at you again your breath catches over the raw need on his face. “Can I touch with just my hands? Or can I use my mouth?”

The heat is making you short-circuit. “But—I—wait, I haven't showered,” you stutter.

Caleb presses his nose against your core, inhaling deeply. His fingers dig into your legs so hard it'll bruise, and he moans. You think you might pass out before he actually does anything.

“Can I?” he asks again, though this time it sounds more like he's begging. He's already pulling your underwear off, and you're too distracted to notice he stuffs it in his back pocket instead of throwing it on the floor.

“I—okay,” you whisper, because Caleb so very rarely asks for anything. Because you want to give him everything. Because you're so unbelievably wet that you'll die if he doesn't touch you right now, hands, tongue, whatever he wants.

As soon as you give him the okay he leans in. You gasp when he licks up a broad stripe over your cunt, pressing his tongue flat against it, groaning like it's him who's feeling good.

“Caleb—” You whimper when he does it again, and then again, and then he's eating you like he's been starving for days. He fucks you with his tongue, he sucks on your clit, and when he adds his fingers—long fingers, big and strong, big enough to curl against your weakest spot—your head falls back on the bed with a whine. The more sounds you make, the more eagerly he laps at you, kisses you, bites at the soft flesh of your thighs.

Dazedly, you wonder if this is meant to feel this good. You can't stop clenching down on him, trying to suck him deeper inside. You're going to come, and you're going to come fast, and is this even real or a dream inside your head?

“Shi—it,” Caleb groans. “You're so pretty, baby. So fuckin’ pretty. Knew you would be, too. Fuck.”

“Caleb,” you pant. “Caleb, I'll—”

He moans in response, tongue working you again, the sound of his fingers moving inside you wet and obscene. The pleasure builds, crests, then rushes over you like a wave. Your whole body tenses, one big strain, caught up in the current. Broken moans leave you on the comedown, body shuddering like a leaf caught in the wind.

You twitch away from Caleb, who hasn't stopped lapping at you, and then melt, boneless, into the sheets. While you catch your breath you see Caleb rise, licking his lips. He sucks his fingers—his fingers, the ones that were just inside of you—clean with a lidded gaze.

Even now, after just having come on his tongue, you feel a warm twinge in your lower stomach.

“Was that nice, pretty girl? Did it feel good?”

You nod. It was more than nice. Caleb just ruined your vibrator for you, and you fear you’re going to have to spend a pretty penny to get anything that'll come close to the way he just made you feel.

When you push yourself up on your elbows it occurs to you that Caleb's still fully dressed, and you're still wearing your shirt. You haven't even taken off your socks. The red dotted pattern winks at you from the edge of the mattress.

You suddenly feel shy. What are you supposed to say now? Will Caleb go home, leave like this was business as usual? Your dimly lit bedroom is cosy and warm, but you doubt you'll be able to fall asleep tonight. Not after this.

Fortunately Caleb saves you from having to say anything. Smiling, he crawls up the bed, hovering over you to kiss you again. You taste traces of yourself on his lips; you realise this is the very first time that you do. It's weird. A little bitter, a little musky, but—

It's not bad. Not if Caleb's the one making you taste it.

When he gathers you in his arms, maneuvering you side by side, your face tucked under his chin, you hug him back. If you cling to him tightly enough maybe he won't leave.

“Was that what you wanted, baby?” Caleb murmurs into the crown of your head.

“How are you so good at that?” you whisper back.

Caleb laughs and squeezes you closer. His cock is rock-hard and poking you insistently in your stomach, even through his pants. “Am I? I'm glad you think so. It's my first time givin’ it a spin.”

Huh?

Shock overtakes embarrassment, and you pull back to look at him.

Huh?

“What?”

Caleb cocks an eyebrow. “What ‘what’?”

“Have you ever had sex?” you blurt out.

The corners of Caleb's mouth twitch upwards. “Nope.”

“But why?” The endless love letters, the confessions, the whispers, the stares. Everyone loves Caleb, no matter where he goes, and you've come to accept it simply as fact a long time ago. You understand, because you love him too. Even if the jealousy makes your stomach feel sick with it sometimes.

“’Cause I never wanted anyone else. I told you, didn't I? I want to touch you. You just tell me where.”

Anyone else?

You sit and gape at him. Caleb chuckles and kisses the hand that's curled against his chest. “I can see the steam comin’ out your ears, baby.” He sighs, and the smile fades on his lips. He looks back at you with his serious eyes again. “Well, what about you? Have you?”

“No,” you say meekly. “There was—no.”

Caleb relaxes, and his smile returns. “Good.”

“Caleb.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you...” you hesitate. Pause. Rethink what you want to say. “You didn't mind? Touching me?” It doesn't gross you out? Disgust you? Make you hate me, make you leave, make you not want to be around me anymore?

Caleb kisses your hand again. “I loved it, baby. Even more than I thought I would. I'd do it every day if you let me.”

Every day—

You shake your head. Focus. “If I tell you another secret, will you tell me another one of yours again?”

“There's more secrets?” Caleb frowns a little, but he brushes over your cheek gently. “Yeah, pips. I'll tell you if you tell me.”

He hasn't run screaming yet. He said he wanted to touch you, that he's wanted to kiss you. You don't dare to look too closely at what it might mean. What lies at the end of devotion? Does it have an end, with Caleb?

I've been thinking about doing that for a long time.

“I wanted you to touch me,” you say carefully. “But I also want to—to touch you. Not for practice. Just because it's you.” You peek at Caleb through your lashes. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes glitter like stars.

“Where, beautiful? Where do you wanna touch me?”

Your voice is very quiet when you answer. “Anywhere that makes you feel good.”

Caleb's eyes flutter closed for a second. When he opens them again he looks serious, but it's not serious angry Caleb. It's serious thinking Caleb, one who's arriving at the end of a very long equation.

“For a long time?”

You duck your head. “Maybe. Now give me your secret.”

Caleb sits up abruptly and pushes into your space. You fall back in surprise, back hitting the mattress, as he leans over you. His pretty purple eyes are dark again, intense, storm-in-a-bottle. Clouds gathering for rain.

“I want you to touch me. I've wanted you to touch me since forever. I want to fill you in every way I can, with my hands, my mouth, and my cock, and I want you to look at only me.”

Your mouth drops open, air coming shallow and fast.

“It's never been pretend for me. I don't want anyone else touching you, ever. Only me.”

You swallow. “But—what—what if it doesn't work out? Things will be different. And I don't want to lose—to lose you.” Not again; never again.

Caleb lowers his head to press a kiss against your pulse, just below your jaw. "You'll never lose me, pip. I promise.” When you stay quiet he lifts his head to look you in the eye. It's a little frightening, the intensity of his gaze. The weight of his want. “I promise. Is that the only thing you're worried about? Losin’ me? Think I won't like you anymore after I've been inside you?”

You're worried about a million things. About not measuring up, about falling out, about being so angry with him and loving him so, so much at the same time. About drifting apart, again.

Caleb takes your hand and guides it to his groin, presses it against his cock. He lets out a little hiss. “Feel that, beautiful? Feel how much I want you? It's always been like that. When we were livin’ together—I jerked off three times a day, I wanted you so bad. I felt like I was going crazy. I—” Caleb exhales, drops his head on your shoulder. “I stole your used panties. I sniffed your gym clothes. I was so fuckin’ desperate.”

Caleb's words send a zap of lightning between your legs. Your whole body is aflame and breaking out in a sweat; it's a little hard to focus on anything but Caleb's dick twitching against your fingers, his hot breath on your skin, and I stole your used panties. I wanted you so bad. Feel how much I want you?

It's always been like that.

You tug at his shirt. “Take off your clothes,” you demand.

A tentative smile breaks through on Caleb's face. Without a word he obeys, sitting back up on his haunches and peeling off his longsleeves. There's a compression tank under it, and this too is dropped on the side of the bed.

But you're impatient, now, and your fingers reach his belt before he can. You tug the leather free, fumble with the belt loops, then go for his zipper. Caleb's hips rock against you, once, like he can't help it, and he watches your hands with a shaky sigh.

He helps you tug his jeans down, and then his underwear, and then, and then—

Your mouth feels dry when his cock slaps against his stomach, finally freed. It looks red, angry, leaking with precum. You want to touch it, so you do, pushing yourself upright while Caleb kneels before you: one careful, curious finger stroking alongside the shaft.

Caleb shudders.

“How can I make you feel good?” you ask earnestly. “Show me.”

Silently, Caleb takes your hand and wraps it around his cock. Your fingertips just barely manage to touch, not-quite closing around him. He places his much bigger hand over yours and shows you, squeezing at the base, twisting upwards, gently at the tip and down again. He's panting; the flush on his cheeks has spread all the way down to his neck, over his chest, his lovely freckled skin. Scarred and bruised. So perfectly his.

When you grow bolder and start moving your hand on your own, upping the pace, Caleb lets out a strangled moan, throwing his head back as his hips jerk forward helplessly. “Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Pip, baby, angel, that feels so good. Feel so good around me. I'm gonna—ah, gonna cum soon if you keep going.”

“Do you want to?” you ask. You look up at him, your big brother, your protector, your heart. Your pain and the cure.

Caleb laughs, breathless and eager. “I wanna cum anywhere you let me.”

That's not good enough. You slow your hand and stop while holding him at the base. Caleb squeezes his eyes shut, brow scrunching up.

“But I want to know what you want,” you say. A little petulant, a little bossy, because Caleb's always spoiled you, indulged you, and you told him, didn't you? This was punishment. He'll let you take care of him whenever you wanted. He's only allowed to have nice things. To feel good. To get everything he wants.

Caleb's eyes open again. “Inside you,” he rasps. “Inside your pussy.”

Another wave of heat makes you let go of him, scooting back on the bed. Caleb watches, entranced, as you lie back and hold out your hands to him.

“Okay,” you say simply.

There's a moment where Caleb looks like he's frozen in time; disbelieving, desperate, helpless.

Then he moves.

He crawls over you and kisses you again. He's trembling a little, and you think you are too. You jolt when you feel his fingers against your clit again, still sensitive, raw, everything so new.

He dips them inside, nose pressed against your neck and inhaling deeply, stroking once, two, three times, curling them until your nails dig into his shoulders. When he removes them he spits in his palm; then holds it out to you, under your chin.

“Spit,” he commands.

You spit.

He slicks himself up with your combined saliva, your arousal, his sweat, and then his tip is pushing against you, into you—

“Fffuck,” Caleb groans. “Relax, pip. Relax for me. Shit, you're perfect. So tight.”

You're trying to do as he says, but your whole body has turned into one big nerve, and at the root is the little place that Caleb's entering now, deeper and deeper, hot wet thick warm tight.

His jaw is clenched, and even in the low light you see the sweat shining on his brow. He's so careful with you, pushing himself further in so very slowly. Pausing when you gasp or tighten around him reflexively.

Once he bottoms out, pelvis flush with yours, he exhales.

“Caleb,” you croak. You're so full.

A bead of sweat drips down his nose, and your Caleb smiles. “Yeah, baby. You're doin’ so good. Feel how far in I am?”

You can feel him in your throat. Your lungs. Your heart, completely.

“I love you,” you tell him, voice patchy, and watch his eyes glisten. His lips press on yours, hard, full of relief.

You tell Caleb you love him every time you say goodbye. It's a little bit of a compulsion. You have to say it, need to say it, because what if? What if you don't get the chance to again? What if this loop of time is broken, again?

But it's different, now.

“I love you, too, pretty girl. Always have.” Caleb rolls his hips into yours, and you gasp. He does it again, a little harder and a little faster, and keeps doing it until you're whimpering under him, your legs locked around his hips and your arms scrabbling for purchase on the wide, muscular planes of his back.

He cradles your skull and tucks it against his neck, large fingers splaying wide over your head. His shoulders are broad, overtaking everything you see. Everything you feel.

Caleb's other hand shoves itself between your two bodies to rub your clit, and when Caleb shifts, angles his hips, and fucks you—

Stars explode behind your eyes. A loud moan swings loose from your chest, unable to stay inside, because it feels so, so good, and then Caleb keeps hitting that spot, keeps making more noises spill from your lips, just like they do from his, until the core of you is wound tight again.

Caleb kisses you messily, panting in your mouth and groaning low whenever you squeeze down on him.

“Come on my cock,” he rasps. “Come on my cock, pip, let me feel you, just like that, c’mon—”

You're helpless before his command. You do as he says while clinging to him tight, shaking, and a few tears slip out from the sheer intensity. Caleb leans down and licks them up, tongue hot and wet on your skin.

He works you through the wave, just barely, before he loses his rhythm. He hits you deeper, now, harder, clenching his teeth, pressing biting kisses on your neck. The only thing you can do is hold onto him.

“Gonna—gonna come, angel, gonna come inside you, fuck, I'm gonna fill you up. Take it, you're gonna— take it—”

Caleb's hips jerk one, two more times, and then he spills inside of you with a heady groan. It shocks you, the heat of it, and you moan with him on his comedown. Caleb rocks inside you a few more times, trying to fuck his cum into you deeper, and then—

He melts. Right on top of you, heavy as can be, and the air is pressed out of your lungs with a soft oof.

Before you can complain, though, he turns, rolling you onto your side. You do your best not to knee him in the stomach while you reposition your legs, because Caleb won't let go of you even a little.

He buries his face in your neck, hair tickling your cheek, and you stroke your fingers through his short dark strands. “What do you think?” you tease him. “Do I need practice after all?”

Caleb squeezes your sides; you can feel him smiling against you. “Depends. Am I the one you're practicin’ with?”

You laugh. Caleb's cock is still inside you, and you feel it twitch at the sound. “Nope. I told you, I only want it for real.”

Caleb loosens his grip on you just enough to look you in the eyes. His hair is messy, and his cheeks are still flushed. Sweat clings to his temples. He looks so beautiful it's like he's not from this world.

“Then we'll do it for real. As long as it's me, pips. Will you promise me?”

Caleb's holding his pinky, and you take it in yours. “And if I want other things? Not just—kissing or touching?”

The tips of your ears are warm again.

“Then we'll do those too.”

You lower your eyes, focusing on a freckle near his lovely mouth. You have to say it now. After this you can't go back to the way things were.

“Like dating. For real. Not... not just so you can turn down confessions.”

“Oh, pip.” Caleb pulls you close again, a tight, warm hug, and your eyes flutter closed at the proximity. Silly, the way you’re still connected but him embracing you makes you feel warm and safe all over again. “I'd turn those down either way, you know. Even if you didn't wanna help me.”

You give his chest a weak slap. “Answer the question.”

“Yes ma’am.” Caleb does his funny soldier voice, and suddenly you just can't take him seriously anymore. Dummy. Dork. Crazy. Still inside you, still hard, and he gives you a salute when you ask him very seriously if he wants to be your boyfriend.

You throw your head back in exasperation. You're trying very hard not to laugh. “I'm serious!”

Caleb chuckles softly and gently pulls you back so he can kiss you. “Good. Me too.”

“No, you're not,” you accuse him. “Stop goofing around and answer me. Or I'll think everything you said was a lie.”

Caleb's gaze softens. “I meant it, pip. I'm very serious about you. About us. If you want me to date you, be your boyfriend, anything, you already have me. I wouldn't lie to you about that.”

You purse your lips, considering. “I guess if you're my boyfriend I could make sure you're fulfilling your punishment.” When Caleb cocks an eyebrow, you huff. “Did you forget already? I said you have to stay with me for the rest of your life. You only get to have nice things, and you'll let me take care of you.”

“...And you wouldn't get angry at me. I remember,” Caleb says softly. He brushes his lips over your cheek. “I'll take anything you wanna give me. Even if I wish that you'd be angry at me.”

That wall of secrets separates you again. You've lost so much time grieving.

Caleb, too. You see the pain in his eyes, the change in his face. He's still yours. He's always been yours, and nothing can take that away from you.

But you and him, you've been through a lot. Scared to show each other the scars—afraid of what the aftermath might change.

“Then stop hiding yourself from me,” you say. “Maybe I'll be angry at you, then.”

“Have you... do you wish I was still the old Caleb?”

Caleb's voice is unsure, vulnerable in a way that you've heard very few times in your life. It's anxious Caleb. And just now you had silly Caleb, and there's angry Caleb, and serious Caleb, all these different sides of him, gleaming in the light like facets of a pretty stone.

All different, all the same.

You smile. You rest your head on Caleb's chest, feel his strong heart pump the blood around in his body. You're sweaty, messy, and the sheets need changing. Tears and drool and cum. Blood and spit and hurt. Love and pain. Anger, so much of it, and someday it will need a name. A place to sit and live.

For now, though—

(For always, though—)

“I just want the one that's right here with me.”

#asdfghjkjhgfghjk #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #please excuse me while i just #screams into the sun #OP OUT HERE DOING GOD'S WORK #literally beautifully put into words #MC's inner turmoil trying to reconcile her two Calebs #my favourite flavour of angst #everything that is the same yet different and could be so much more #😭😭😭#p l e a s e #im almost never this self indulgent on main #asdfghjkl #absolute fave #my farspace love

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