@cherriimo Honestly This Is So You

these two pictures have the same energy

Dan and Phil art is here 

ᡣ𐭩 between shared walls ⋮ roommate!hamzah

wc ⋮ 1.2k

authors note ⋮ so this was ORIGINALLY intended to be like 300-500 words.. yeeeaaahhh.. ANYWAYS i feel like theres rlly not enough hamzah fics and its so sad i read them all in like 2 days💔💔

the first time you met hamzah, he was standing in the doorway of your new apartment, a cup of instant ramen in hand and sleep-mussed hair. his voice was groggy when he introduced himself, rubbing his eyes like a kid waking up from a nap. you were flustered, apologizing for the boxes blocking the hallway, but he just shrugged.

“it’s your home too,” he said, flashing a lopsided smile before disappearing into his room.

living with him was… easy, in ways you didn’t expect. he cleaned the kitchen without being asked and always brewed an extra cup of tea in the mornings. you’d find notes on the fridge in his scrawled handwriting — reminders like “don’t forget your umbrella” or “good luck on your exam!” he never overstepped, always giving you space, but his quiet presence became a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

but easy didn’t mean simple.

you tried not to fall for him. truly, you did. but then he’d lean against the counter late at night, listening to your ramblings about work with those gentle eyes, or he’d nudge your shoulder with his when you were sad, offering a half-hearted, “want me to fight whoever upset you?”

it built slowly, this ache in your chest.

and then, one night, it cracked.

you’d just gotten home from a disastrous date, eyes puffy from crying, mascara streaking your cheeks. hamzah was on the couch, scrolling through his phone, and he immediately sat up when he saw you.

“what happened?” his voice, usually so light, was low, serious.

you tried to brush it off, but he wouldn’t let you. he listened as you spilled every awful detail — the harsh words, the disappointment, the feeling of never being enough. you kept talking until your throat hurt, until there was nothing left to say.

and then he whispered, “he’s an idiot, you know.”

you laughed, wet and shaky. “i think that’s generous.”

he looked at you, really looked at you, and something shifted.

“i don’t get it,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “how anyone could have you — could know you — and not feel like the luckiest person alive.”

your heart thudded painfully. “hamzah…”

he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “forget it. you should get some sleep.”

for days, things were… strange. he wasn’t cold, but distant in a way he never was before. the notes on the fridge stopped, and he spent more time in his room, door closed. you missed him, missed the way things used to be, and it made your chest feel hollow.

but then, one night, there was a knock on your door.

hamzah stood there, rubbing the back of his neck, looking unsure for the first time since you met him.

“i can’t —” his voice cracked. “i can’t keep pretending like i don’t want more.”

and just like that, the ache in your chest unraveled.

because neither could you.

you stared at hamzah, your heart hammering against your ribs like it wanted out. his words lingered in the air, heavy and fragile all at once.

“i can’t keep pretending like i don’t want more,” he’d said, voice shaking like he hated how vulnerable he sounded.

but the truth was, you hated it more — hated the thought of him hurting, of him thinking he had to hide from you.

“come in,” you whispered, stepping aside.

he hesitated, lingering in the doorway like he might run. but he didn’t. he stepped into your room, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, and you shut the door behind him.

the silence stretched, uncomfortable and loaded. you sat on the edge of your bed, picking at the hem of your sweater, and hamzah stayed standing, shoulders tense like he was bracing for impact.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, voice small.

he exhaled a humorless laugh, rubbing his face. “because you deserve someone better.”

your chest cracked open. “better?”

he nodded, pacing the length of your room. “someone who doesn’t freeze up every time you smile at them. someone who can actually hold a conversation instead of standing there like an idiot because they’re too busy trying not to stare at your mouth.”

your breath caught. “hamzah—”

“you don’t get it.” he turned to face you, eyes burning. “i liked you from the start. and every day i told myself it was just a crush, that it would fade. but then you’d leave me notes on the fridge or laugh at my stupid jokes, and it just… got worse.”

you swallowed hard, hands trembling in your lap. “it wasn’t a crush,” you whispered. “not for me either.”

he froze. “what?”

you stood, heart in your throat. “i tried so hard not to fall for you, hamzah. but then you’d make me tea when i couldn’t sleep or stay up late watching terrible movies with me because i was sad, and i… i couldn’t help it.”

he stared at you, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“i thought you didn’t see me that way,” you admitted, voice breaking. “i thought i was just your roommate.”

hamzah closed the distance between you in two steps. his hands hovered over your arms like he was scared to touch you, scared you’d disappear.

“you were never just anything to me,” he whispered.

and when you didn’t pull away, he finally cupped your face in his hands, fingers warm and careful.

“you sure about this?” he asked, voice shaking.

you nodded, tears burning your eyes. “i’ve never been more sure.”

so he kissed you — soft, tentative, like he was terrified of doing it wrong. but when you kissed him back, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, he melted.

and for the first time since you met him, everything finally made sense.

SAVE A PLANE, RAWDOG A PILOT

ON THIS PLANE, YOU’LL BE WITNESSING … commercial airline pilot!caleb & stewardess fem!reader, pure filth ahead!! warning(s) -> nsfw, MDNI [18+ only], smut w no plot, he hits from behind, creampie, caleb’s a fucking tease, dirty talk, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up b4 any action irl), not fighter pilot caleb, degradation (he calls u a slut once), petnames: sweetheart, baby, princess, implied aftercare, slight comedy lol, not proofread wordcount. 0.8k (procrastinating from my long ass sylus fic sorz)

DEAR PILOT of yours just can’t stand not touching you after every flight you share together. He says its because he misses you, you say its because he needs to mark your pretty body for the next flight you’re on to ward off unwanted attention.

working with your childhood friend as a stewardess at an airline he worked as a pilot was.. pleasurable to say the least. Caleb had trained to be a fighter pilot, something you respected him for despite his ridiculous teasing whenever he came home. But what you wondered most now, was why he suddenly abandoned his duties just to be a pilot for a normal plane travelling across countries.

Crisp uniform, fitting hat and a smug smile. Today was one of the many unlucky days you shared a flight with him. Fuck this guy, you snarled in your mind whenever you even caught a glance of him coming out the cockpit. Though those words became a literal fuck me real quick after a long flight.

You prayed with a hazy mind and hands bracing on the wall of the narrow toilet in the plane that no one was outside, body bouncing with the force of Caleb’s thrusts from behind you. “Y-you’re going too fast, what if someone hears?” You stammered between uneven breaths mingling with moans, unable to make yourself care much for your surroundings despite your concerned words, earning a scoff from the man making your legs quiver from behind.

“The only thing someone’s gonna hear is your fucking moans if you keep talking, sweetheart,” Caleb grunted with a hoarse chuckle, jaw clenched soon after with stuttering his hips stuttering into your sloppy cunt, velvety walls tightening around him like a silky vice.

He was in awe of his own self-control whenever he sunk his achingly hard cock back into your pussy, feeling your insides fluttering around him to accommodate his length stretching you out. The man couldn’t help but lean forward at this one specific clench, hand slamming against the wall ahead of you just above one of your own trembling hands.

“She’s so hungry for my cum, isn’t she, baby? Making it so hard for me to hold back with all that clenching..,” he murmured softly just behind your ear, though it was more like he was talking to your pussy with how he was punctuating his every word with a thrust, his body leaning down close to you with ease due to his tall height. He buried himself further into your warm heat with a squelch, the lewd mix of his pre-cum and your arousal. He felt a jolt of desire when you only clamped down on him harder in response, making him exhale a chuckle and quicken his pace, bringing you and himself closer to the edge.

“Ooh, fuck, now you’re feeling it, aren’t you? About to make a biiig fucking mess on my cock like a dirty slut,” he drawled cruelly with an initial growl, head dipped into your shoulder with your hand on your hip only tightening to hold you in place. Every plow of his cock inside your needy cunt filled the small room, the sound of skin against skin surely to reach the ears of those close by.

True to Caleb’s words, you sobbed a moan of pleasure, knees falling weak and unstable as your orgasm overwhelmed you, creaming all over his cock, making a mess that began to drip on the floor. Regardless of your recent climax, Caleb showed no signs of stopping, your pleasure only feeding his desperate desire to reach that high with you, to fill you up, mark you for the rest of the next flight until he could have you again. In time, his balls drew up tight, one last surge forward before he stilled and pumped his seed into your tight channel, painting those velvet walls white with his essence.

“Ungh.. Think I just made you even warmer than you already were, princess,” Caleb laughed weakly, forehead resting against your shoulder, big hand on your hip the only support you had to keep standing. “.. Oh, fuck you,” you huffed between pants, head hung low to catch your breath and recompose yourself from the intense pounding he’s given you ever since the plane landed and the passengers unloaded. “Yeah, you sure did,” he scoffed with a grin, leaning in with a pull from your stomach to sneak a kiss onto your cheek. He leaned away once more before you could gain the energy to scold him further, slowly pulling out of your used hole, leaving it full empty with nothing but oozing cum.

He reached out for the toilet roll nearby, grabbing a thick bunch of tissue to clean your wet inner thighs and wiping your slick folds with little effort, not wanting to truly clean you up of his cum yet. Besides, you were too tired to notice at the moment, so he pulled your panties up, tugging your skirt back down as he helped you take your hands off the walls to stand up straight.

After a proper few minutes of insisted aftercare by Caleb, you two were outside of the bathroom again, readying yourselves to leave the aircraft for your next respective flights. Once this experience ended, you thought that maybe sharing a flight with him wasn’t so bad. Well, maybe until you began to feel his cum beginning to drip down onto your panties while you were walking.

tumblr is a phillie confirmed

cowboy in trouble

lmao okay... filipina! gf having a petty shouting match with bf! katsuki and cussing each other out in each other's languages.

the argument started over something stupid—so stupid you couldn't even remember how it began. but now? now, you were pissed.

"hoy, ikaw! akala mo porket pogi ka kaya mo kong bastusin?! (hey, you! do you think that just because you're hot that means you can insult me?!)" you snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest.

katsuki, never one to back down, fired right back in japanese. "kimi wa boku o okora seru nda yo, wakarudaro? itsumo sono kawaii kao de ki o magirawasu nda! (you piss me off, you know that? always distracting me with that pretty fucking face!)"

you weren’t even sure if he fully understood what you were saying, and you definitely weren’t catching all his rapid-fire japanese insults, but that didn’t stop either of you from cussing (possibly flirting) each other out in your own languages.

"para kang tangang sakit sa ulo na may abs! kung hindi ka lang gwapo, sinuntok na sana kita! (youre like a stupid headache with abs! if you weren’t so hot, i’d have punched you by now!)"

"ore wa hontōni mendōna sonzaida! demo... kuso, ore wa boku ga imamade deatta naka de mottomo mendōna sonzaida! (you’re such a pain in my ass! but... fuck, you’re the prettiest pain in the ass i’ve ever had!)"

neither of you were backing down. your voices clashed like thunder, both of you stubborn as hell, and honestly? if anyone walked in, they’d think you hated each other.

"oi.-kun ga utsukushīkara to itte, kimi ga itte iru koto o watashi ga rikai dekiru wakede wa nai yo.' (hey. just because youre beautiful, it doesn't mean i understand a fucking word youre saying.)" his jaw clenched, eyes blazing.

"ulol! (idiot!)" you shot back, arms flailing in frustration. "hindi kita maintindihan pero alam kong gago ka! pogi o hindi! (i don't understand you but i know you're an ass! handsome or not!)"

katsuki scoffed, stepping in closer, his voice dropping into something lower, more dangerous. "kuso, `chikatte iukedo, kimi ga nani o itte mo mechakucha shitsureina ndaroukedo, demo, kimi ga boku ni donatte iru toki no kuchibiru wa ī kanjida yo.' (fuck, i swear, whatever the fuck you’re saying is probably rude as hell, but damn, your lips look good when you’re yelling at me.)"

oh, hell no. (whatever the hell that meant.)

"ay, gago, ano sinabi mo?! pakyu! bahala ka dyan! maghanap ka ng ibang aawayin mo! ayoko na sa'yo—! (oh, you asshole, what did you say?! fuck you! suit yourself! find someone else to fight with! i don't want you anymore—!)"

before you could finish, his hands were on you—hot, firm, relentless, gripping your waist and yanking you forward.

katsuki grabbed you, his lips slamming onto yours with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs. you barely had time to react before your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling just as fiercely.

the kiss was all heat, teeth, and frustration—his tongue sliding against yours in a battle neither of you wanted to lose. the argument was already forgotten, who the hell cared what you were fighting about when this was so much better?

you tugged at his shirt, fisting the fabric, pouring all your irritation and want into the way your lips moved against his, biting on his bottom lip. he groaned, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, pulling, tilting your head just the way he wanted.

you gasped into his mouth, and he used that opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue pressing against yours like he was still trying to win.

it was messy. angry. hot.

his hands roamed, gripping, kneading, staking his claim as if trying to prove his point without words. your back hit the nearest surface—maybe the wall, maybe the counter, you didn’t care—and katsuki pressed into you, lips never leaving yours. his breath was ragged, matching yours, and when you nipped at his bottom lip, he growled, gripping your thigh and hoisting you up.

"still mad?" he murmured against your mouth, voice low and rough as you wrapped your legs around him.

you tugged at his hair, making him hiss. “oh, now you wanna use your mouth for something other than yelling at me?”

he scoffed, fingers digging into your waist. “tch. big talk for someone who was just moaning in two languages.”

you scoffed, shoving at his chest (not that it did anything, because he was built like a damn wall). “excuse me?”

he grinned, lips brushing against yours. “nah, you’re not excused.”

and then he used his mouth the other way he knew how—by kissing you stupid.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ used google translate for katsuki unfortunately🤕 lmk if any of the translations are wrong, and i hope you guys enjoyed!! inspired by @ch3rryjampi3's comment in my recent filo fic💜💜

For What You Have Tamed

ao3/masterlist

Summary: In a better world, EVER doesn’t exist. You and Caleb lead relatively normal lives, all things considered. You visit him at his frat in Skyhaven, and you attend a party together. But the same feelings still linger between you, unresolved.

cw(18+): fem reader, reader is MC, Pseudocest, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Scent Kink, PNV Sex, Cunnilingus, Blow Jobs, Alcohol, Cigarettes, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Eating Disorders, frat boy!Caleb, Bathing/Washing, Vaginal Fingering, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Unsafe Sex, Pet Names, Not Beta Read, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Spit Kink, Spit As Lube, No use of Y/N 22.9k

Your train to Skyhaven had arrived early. Or, more accurately, in your excitement to see Caleb, you had boarded an earlier train than you had initially agreed upon with him – and thus arrived in Skyhaven a solid thirty minutes ahead of schedule. Between your own studies and Caleb’s, you weren’t able to visit him at college as much as you would have liked – and certainly less than Caleb would have liked. Still, you made do with daily video calls, texts, and voice messages. You stepped out of the train with a vague sense of uncertainty lingering over you. With Caleb, it was always a toss up as to which role he wanted you to play, and with whom. Little sister? Girlfriend? So much time had passed that it was unclear if it was really a role at all. He used both epithets in tandem. Caleb didn’t see anyone else, and neither did you. You tried not to let these thoughts linger, and let them pass along with the coolness of the summer breeze that kissed your skin. It was almost too warm at the station, the kind of warmth that feels like it's living just under your skin, not quite able to get out. Pulsing dully with the excitement in your blood.

It was just some hours beyond dawn, when the sun had begun to hang itself in the sky, climbing to its apex with the hurriedness of an unbothered cat. The outdoor station was never crowded around this time, occupied by only a few other stragglers of the morning, dragging their feet to obligations unknown. Nothing dragged behind you, save for your suitcase, and the tote bag slung over your arm. The latter was ancient, with a silly smattering of rainbow paper airplanes on it. Caleb had given it to you ages ago, and you had never stopped using it. Your things swam loosely inside, free as birds. Since you were early, you opted to find a place to park yourself while you waited for Caleb. You checked your watch. It was the athletic kind, one with a tiny screen. Not quite the newest tech that the Hunters were using – you weren’t quite there yet. You didn’t have the heart to replace it with a new one, though. The watch confirmed what you already knew – you had thirty minutes before the impending arrival of Caleb. You looked up, intending to choose a direction, but there was, quite abruptly,  a big shadow blocking your view. A big shadow belonging to someone tall. Up your gaze went, over a pair of dark combat boots, cargoes, and a broad chest – wearing a cream colored cut-off t-shirt. Into a face filled with fondness, a pair of pretty purple eyes, ripe like the flesh of figs. Your brother’s full mouth was smiling at you. His dark hair was pinned down to his forehead with a baseball cap, which he wore backwards. His smile broadened as you looked, showing you his one crooked canine amongst otherwise straight teeth. 

“Since when are you an early bird, Pips,” Caleb cocked his head, hand on his hip.

“Is there a worm you’re trying to get?” 

He made a motion with his finger, like that of a worm inching along the ground. You couldn’t help the laugh that came out of you at his stupid joke. Caleb looked very pleased with his triumph. You moved closer to him, and poked a similar finger into his chest. The muscles of his pecs gave way under your touch, and you couldn’t help but spread your hand over them, instead. His necklace glistened with the newfound highness of the sun.

“Who’s the bird and who’s the worm here, huh?” You squeezed him again, unable to help yourself. Caleb hummed, clearly happy with your attentions. Without warning, you were crushed into an embrace, his strong arms wrapped around you like a big-brother vice. You were enveloped in the summer of his scent, the sweetness of fruits, the smell of wheatgrass, the cleanness of his sweat. His voice was close to your ear, tickling it. 

“Whether I’m the bird or the worm – doesn’t matter. I’m already yours.” 

Caleb’s familiar youthful cadence, which had never quite seemed to catch up to his body, sent a cascading line of electricity down your spine. His hands slid down your lower back, encompassing it, until they had landed neatly into your back pockets. 

“Caleb,” you groused,

“We’re in public.”

 It felt good, but you were still smack in the middle of a public train station, nevermind the daily uncertainties of your relationship. Caleb was still for a moment. He gave your ass the tiniest of squeezes before acquiescing, pulling back from you. He didn’t look guilty at all. Instead, he took your tote from your shoulder, slinging it over his own. Your suitcase came from around behind you, like an obedient, rectangular animal, with the help of Caleb’s evol. He grasped it in his hand. His face told you he almost, for just a moment, wanted to say something in opposition, but he relented instead, tone airy.

“Very true, Agent Pip. There’s not another soul alive who deserves to see my pretty girl like this. C’mon, let Caleb whisk you away from pryin’ eyes.”

His hand that wasn’t grasping the suitcase took yours, slotting your fingers together. His palm was so warm that it was nearly uncomfortable, but you had no desire to remove yourself from him. He urged you on with his touch, shortening his long strides so that you could follow him more easily. You squeezed his hand.

“It’s just like when we were kids. Except now you’re the one who wants to hold my hand, huh?”

Caleb’s eyes flicked to you, and then back ahead. The suitcase he was rolling behind him made a loud sound as it bumped over a rock on the sidewalk.

“It’s a little different now though, dontcha’ think?”

Caleb asked a question, but he sounded like he was making a statement, instead. He squeezed your hand, firm. An answer escaped you. You were unsure if he even wanted one. You were saved from having to ponder your response for much longer, though. Caleb had led you to his car, parked next to a meter that was filled up with a suspicious number of minutes. You eyed it, feeling certain he must have been sitting here for some time, in typical Caleb fashion – totally unable to relax, predicting every outcome. He always parked here when he came to get you, because the street was just adjacent to the station. You swept your eyes over his car, appreciating its familiarity. It was a beautiful ‘68 Ford Mustang – a Coupe, in a bright, apple red. Caleb had fixed it up into near perfection himself, tinkering with it in Gran’s garage before he left for college, face smeared with engine grease. By all accounts, it seemed as if he had just washed it, save for some leaves that had haphazardly fallen on the windshield, the gifts of nature from the nearby trees. Caleb busied himself with putting your things in the trunk. He could have easily used his evol – but instead he made a show of lifting your suitcase, muscles rippling under his skin. His skin was a healthy tan, aglow with the kiss of a new summer. It made the freckles of his face stand out. He was as handsome as ever. You wondered if he was still rejecting paramours left and right, despite your continued place as his ‘girlfriend.’ Surely he must be. Caleb shut the trunk, and adjusted the cap on his head. He came around to the passenger’s side door, and held it open for you expectantly. 

“Your trusty steed awaits.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. You came around the car, and slid inside through the open door. You nudged his arm with your elbow as you passed by.

“If this is my trusty steed, what does that make you?”

Caleb buckled you in, just like he always had when you were children. His hands adjusted your seatbelt over your chest, your hips. They lingered on your thighs, and then went downwards, to squeeze your kneecaps.

“That depends. Which Caleb do you want me to be today?”

He lingered in the open door, expectantly. His gaze on you was unwavering.

“The Caleb that you want to be. Not the Caleb you think I want you to be,”

You wrapped your hand around his thick forearm. Your fingers couldn’t touch on the other side.

“Dummy.”

Caleb seemed to think for a moment, his head tilted. Then, he shut you in without warning. Your knees had gone cold without the warmth of his hands. He reappeared on the driver’s side, and tossed his hat into the center console before getting in. 

“What I want is what you want, baby. Nothing else.”

The car came to life under his touch as he spoke. You watched his hand turn the key in the ignition. You reached to adjust the air conditioning, but Caleb’s hand knocked yours away, directing it at you so that you would get cool air. You wanted to smile, but you also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, you poked his bicep.

“Right now, you’re Stubborn Caleb.”

Caleb turned to you, and made a show of flexing the bicep your finger had come into contact with. It was as if he got bigger and stronger every time you saw him. You tried to force away thoughts about just where you’d like that bicep to be, and instead focused on him speaking. 

“And my lil’ green apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

He sounded like the statement pleased him. You watched him as he began to drive, pulling the car into the street. Its emptiness almost seemed odd contrasted with Skyhaven’s towering, black skyscrapers, passing you by like dark strangers. The red of the car reflected brightly in their glass, like a passing blood stain.  Caleb’s strong hands gripped the wheel, and you admired the span of his forearms, watching the muscles shift subtly under his skin as he drove. The alternating light of morning lit his features, but it was cut off in intervals by the passing of skyscrapers, so he was cast equally in just as much darkness.

“You’re starin.’ It’s just like when we were kids,” he echoed your earlier statement.

“It’s a little different now, don’t you think?” you said, echoing him back.

Caleb’s eyes flicked to you as he stopped at a red light. His hand found its way back to your thigh as he spoke.

“Yeah, pips. I do.”

He squeezed your thigh, as if affirming his words, though his voice, to your ears, betrayed a hint of uncertainty. The car pulled through as the light turned green again, and Caleb changed the direction of the conversation along with it, as if passing through a portal.

“So,” he rapped his fingers on the wheel,

“You hungry? You haven’t eaten yet, riiight? You got here so early, I bet you skipped it.”

You shuffled your feet on the floor of the car. The flexing of your thigh made Caleb’s hand move up and down, and his thumb drew idle circles on your skin through the fabric of your pants. You regretted wearing them now, because he wasn’t touching your skin directly. You nodded to answer his question, not wanting to confirm out loud that the reason you had skipped breakfast was to catch the earlier train to see him.

“I knew it,” he singsonged.

 “So, what should I feed you? Did you wanna pick something up, or should I whip somethin’ up back at the house?”

His hand was drifting up your thigh as he spoke, as if he wasn’t casually asking you about food. You tried to ignore the fingers that were creeping closer to where you wanted them.

“Oatmeal,” you blurted. Caleb looked surprised, his eyebrows raising a tick. His smile told you he was about to tease you for the simplicity of your choice, so you added an addendum.

“It’s just better when you make it.”

Caleb’s smile widened. He mussed his hair with his hand, driving with his knees for a moment, and it only made his cowlicks stand more on end. Even with hat hair, he was stupidly handsome. His hand went back on the wheel.

“Well, when you put it like that, how could your wish be anything but my command?”

In any other circumstance, staying in a frat house for any period of time would be an altogether horrifying prospect. Not so with Caleb, however. He was part of ΒΘΠ, a fellowship of brothers who all shared the goal of becoming pilots, on top of getting their current ambitious degrees. (Caleb, for that matter, was majoring in aerospace engineering.) Given the niche scope of interest, it was a small congregation. The rules for entry were strict, too. All the men involved were required to maintain a high GPA, positive social standing, attend charity events, and make all manner of community efforts. Caleb, who had rushed and nearly been immediately accepted when he entered college, now unofficially ran the place like it was the military. From what you had gathered from your semi-frequent visits, Caleb was popular and well-respected among the brothers – if not more than a little feared. His seniority in the frat had earned him his own room, finally having graduated from a double. You had some vague inkling that he conducted the rituals the frat was involved in, being as secretive as he was – though he pretended not to be. You tried not to pry, though you were certainly curious. Of course, Caleb took all of this in stride – finishing his education, becoming a pilot, hosting charity events and parties, working, sending you more money than you needed back home  – you had no idea where he found the time or energy for it all. When you had inquired after it, he had simply stated he could take one look into your face and find all the motivation he needed to pursue his goals. Looking into his handsome face was like injecting liquid sunshine laced with cyanide into your veins. You couldn’t imagine what he saw when he looked into yours. You had always been his little shadow, after all. Stepping into his light still burned.

The frat house was located not far from campus, nestled among rows of other similar houses with similar frats. It wasn’t exactly modest, but it wasn’t extravagant, either. Due to its highly competitive nature, it only boasted about ten rooms, even less of which were occupied by young men. You eyeballed it through the window as you approached, as Caleb pulled the car into the drive. It was a neutral sort of gray, with classic white pillars and window frames. Once, you had caught Caleb directing some of the newer brothers to power wash the exterior after a particularly nasty storm had left it dirtied. It was clearly well maintained, down to the clip of the yard. You could practically imagine Caleb on his hands and knees with the other brothers, working the dirt, bending the earth to his will. 

Said bender of wills took his hand from your thigh, which had stayed firmly in its place the entire car ride. He unbuckled himself, and then you, without a second thought. Habits of his that never quite seemed to die. Not that you wanted them to. As he reached over you, you could practically feel the heat that radiated from his skin, even without touching him. In the winter, he was like a space heater – and in the summer, he was something a little more sinister. 

“Stay,” he commanded.

“I’ll come ‘round.”

Caleb exited the vehicle, and came around to open the door for you. As you stepped out, he spoke, shutting the door behind you. 

“The boys know you’re comin,’ so they’ll be–”

“On their best behavior?” You finished for him. You had visited plenty, but Caleb was always quick to assure you that you had nothing to worry about. He smiled at your interruption, his eyes glittering.

“That’s right, baby. You don’t even need me to tell you, huh?”

He walked around to the back of the car, and you watched him as he went. His broad back, shoulders freckled from the sun. He walked like his dick was big, even from behind. Well, not like it was big. It was big. You screwed your face up at your own thoughts, shaking your head. Caleb freed your suitcase and tote from captivity in the back of the car, and shut the trunk. As you watched, it occurred to you that Caleb had left his hat on the console. You opened the door back up, and rescued it from its near-abandonment. Caleb reappeared before you, tote and suitcase in hand. He looked curiously at the cap in yours. You gestured for him to crouch, and he did so, offering you the crown of his head. You placed the cap back atop it, backwards, as it was before. Your fingers brushed against his ears. Caleb righted himself, looking much like the cat who got the cream, his mouth set into a small smile.

“Helpful girl.”

He gestured to the front door with a jerk of his head, and started towards it. 

“C’mon. Let’s put something in your stomach, yeah?”

Caleb’s word choice wasn’t lost on you, though you could never be quite sure if it was intentional or not, being Caleb. He was just like that. You followed after him to the doorway, and he produced the house keys from one of the many pockets of his cargoes. There was a little keychain he always kept on them – a gift from you – shaped like the radiant sun, cast in a yellow gold. Whenever you picked up his keys, it dug uncomfortably into your skin with its sharp points. It made a familiar clinking sound against the rest of the metal that made you feel like you were coming home, rather than visiting. Caleb pushed open the door, and led you inside. He parked your suitcase and tote in the entryway. You shut the door behind him, locking it. When you turned back around, Caleb was kneeling before you, his fingers going for the laces of your boots. 

“Caleb, you don’t have to–”

“I know, I know. You’re a big girl now, and you don’t need me anymore. Just indulge me, okay? It’s not that I have to. Maybe I miss doin’ stuff like this for you. When you were a kid, you’d purposely double knot your sneakers too tight so that I’d help you untie them. Just tying them for you wasn’t enough.” 

Caleb’s fingers worked open the double knot of your laces as he spoke. He tugged the boot from your right foot. The motion made you unsteady, and you instinctively reached out for his shoulders to steady yourself. They were sturdy under your touch. Your abdomen was square in Caleb’s face, and he leaned forward, pressing his face into your stomach. He inhaled loudly against your shirt. You swatted at his head halfheartedly, and your fingers dragged against the material of his cap.

“I’m all sweaty. I stink.”

Caleb shook his head against your stomach, burying his face there for a moment longer. His voice was muffled by your clothes.

“You smell good, pip. Your sweat, too.”

Your shoes were momentarily forgotten as his hands found a more suitable place cupping your ass, pressing you harder against your face. He moved his head down, down, until his mouth was just below your groin, nose pressing against your jeans. He looked up at you, inhaling against you with purpose. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to unzip your jeans, and put his tongue inside of you. But you were more concerned with his future than your momentary pleasure.

“Caleb,” you hissed,

“What will the guys think if they see you with your little sister?”

Caleb pulled back, his hands dropping back to your laces. He made quick work of them, shucking your shoe off and setting it aside next to its partner. He looked back up at you as he started on his own boots, a little smile on his face. His eyes were like a dark purple flint, sharp and calculating. 

“They’ll think whatever I tell them to think. Besides,”  

His boots went next to yours, and they could have been twins were it not for the largeness of his own. He stood back to his full height, and took your suitcase and tote back in hand. 

“You’re not my little sister.”

The delicate venom in his words twisted the arousal in your stomach into a creature that could only crawl on its belly, down through your legs, and into the ground through your socked feet. This was Caleb, both sides of the coin. Introducing you as his sometimes girlfriend, sometimes sister. Whatever suited him, whatever he needed you to be. You wanted to clutch at both titles, and you hated it. He denied you both. You followed him into the kitchen. He deposited your things neatly beside the marble island. 

“We’ll bring your things up to my room after you eat. You suuure all you want is oats? I picked up all kinds of stuff that you like before you came,” he said, as if he hadn’t just denied all of your worldly connection to him. Your appetite, which was already small this early in the morning, flagged. He opened up the big, silver fridge. It was the kind that had a water dispenser on the left side of the door, with an ice maker inside. The kind that only wealthy people had in their houses. Or, so you had thought when you were kids. The refrigerator at your home in Linkon was small and white, humble. Much more empty, without Caleb to fill it. 

Before the house, at the orphanage, you couldn’t even remember a refrigerator. 

You looked at the contents inside. It was stuffed to the brim, bursting with vegetables, meats, sauces, and all kinds of prepped meals. You recognized the containers that Caleb used to prep his meals, now. He had started doing it in highschool. Chicken and rice, sometimes a green vegetable. Nothing like the flavorful, thoughtful meals he was feeding you and Gran. 

How else can I be your reliable pillar of strength?

You looked at him, and opted not to answer his question, instead offering him another one in return.

“What about you? Are you going to eat?”

Caleb turned back to you, shutting the refrigerator behind him. He shook his head, looking as relaxed as ever under your scrutiny. 

“I ate way early this morning. Doesn't do me any good to workout fasted, you know? So, oats? Not eggs, pancakes, bacon, waffles…”

You eyed him, weighing the truth of his statement. You would have preferred to eat with him, especially after not having seen him for nearly a month – but he seemed for all the world to be telling the truth. You relented, slotting yourself into one of the uncomfortable metal stools that sat on the side of the kitchen island. You didn’t like that island. The white granite seemed kind of sterile, cold.

“Just oats,” and thinking the better of it, you added,

“Please.”

This caused a raise of Caleb’s eyebrows. He whistled, high to low. He rummaged through the pantry as he spoke, producing a bag of oats. It was the expensive kind, you could tell. Not the kind in instant packets or the cardboard tube, but the nice one in a bag that rich hippies liked, with some smattering on the back about ‘ our story.’

“Did you just say ‘please?’ Was my pip abducted by aliens in the last thirty seconds? What happened to the little girl who wouldn’t even pour me a glass of water?”

You watched as Caleb’s hands measured out the perfect portion of oats into a cup, and then put them into a pan. They were vascular hands, warmed by the interior of the house. When he flexed them around the handle of the pan, they stretched and compressed, like the formations of new lakes. My pip, he said. You resisted the urge to tell him that the little girl he mentioned had died in that old house in Linkon, and her heart was buried under the floorboards. He’d hear it there, if he came back to visit more often. Maybe it would haunt him, your little heart. It sounded like him. Thump. Thump. Thump.  

Instead of telling him where your heart lived, you sang a rhyme at him, the kind he’d read you from little archaic picture books as a child.

“She went to market, to market, to buy a fat hog,”

Caleb measured water into the pot after the oats, and set the flame of the stove alight with a click-click-click . He turned back to you, a wooden spoon in hand.

“But then she came home again, home again, right? Jiggety-jog.”

Caleb connected the back of the spoon with his palm, and it made a satisfying smack that echoed in the kitchen, like it was accentuating the truth of his words. You watched as his fingers naturally curled around the utensil, into a resting position. He made the very normal sized cooking spoon look puny. The image of Caleb smacking you flashed through your mind. You had smacked him plenty as a child – but he had never once raised a hand to you. Not like that. You wanted it to be you in his palm, instead. You flattened your own palms against the cool marble of the island counter, hoping it would take some of their heat away. It was painfully cold, in a good way. You tilted your head at him. 

“And where should she go home to?”

Caleb fixed you with a firm look before speaking.

“The one I make for her, of course.”

He turned back to the oats, which seemed to be bubbling. He stirred them with the spoon, and adjusted the flame. You watched as the little blue fingers of it were made smaller under his touch, licking eagerly at the bottom of the pan.

“Just you wait, baby. I’ve got it all lined up so I can take care of you. You’ll never have to want for a thing. Least of all a home.”

Caleb sounded so sure that you almost wanted to believe him. He really did seem to have plans in place that you weren’t aware of. But you were in school, too. Soon, you’d take the Hunter Exam. It sounded like an attractive prospect. But you grounded yourself in reality, not fantasy.

“You make it sound like you’re going to marry me or something. Surely you have more attractive prospects than your…”

The words little sister nearly left your mouth, but you held your tongue. Caleb’s earlier words still blanched your skin like the water that boiled the oats he would feed to you. He fetched a bowl from the cabinet. You searched for better words, but found none. You were saved by the sudden entrance of someone into the kitchen, having come down from the stairs. You jerked your head up to look. It was one of the brothers who was closest to Caleb - Liam. He was a man of tall stature, though not quite as tall as Caleb. He had a dark face with eyes that seemed wet with perpetual worry. His hair was cropped short, buzzed at the sides. A presence that was quiet, unobtrusive. He met Caleb’s eyes before yours. They exchanged a look. Liam spoke first.

“Your sister’s a little early. Don’t worry, I’m almost done.” 

Caleb merely nodded at him. You saw a tightness in his face, in the set of his eyes. Liam turned to you, and nodded, offering no words. You nodded quietly in return. It was always like this, with him. You knew he meant no offense – it’s just how he was. Liam retrieved something from the refrigerator – a bottle of something – and disappeared from the kitchen without another word. You watched him go, enveloped as he was in his own unique quiet. Movement from Caleb made you turn your attention back to him. He busied himself with the coffee machine, as well as the electric kettle. The oats bubbled, as did the kettle and coffee machine. The world’s smallest symphony of consumption, courtesy of your big brother. He produced two mugs from an adjacent cabinet. You regarded them curiously. One, you recognized. It was a soft shade of ivory, and boasted a charming image of half of an apple on its side. The other, you didn’t recognize. It was orange, and had a picture of a snail scooting along, as if he had somewhere very important to be. You almost wanted to ask, but your lingering question hanging in the air stopped you from doing so. 

Caleb put a tea bag into the snail cup, followed by the hot water. The coffee went into the apple cup. Both were placed before you.

“Coffee: black. Tea: no milk.” 

He was using his comms voice, as if he was repeating back something air traffic control had said to him. You couldn’t help the snort that escaped you. Caleb grinned, and turned back to the oats, portioning them into the bowl with the help of the spoon.

Onto the island before you it went, and he stirred it with a new, silver spoon, one meant for eating off of. You peered over the rim. By the looks of it, he had added all kinds of extras. Milk, butter, salt, brown sugar, cinnamon, blueberries…and whatever else he did that made it taste so good.

Maybe it was just better because he had made it for you.

Caleb pushed the bowl toward you expectantly. It was a simple, white, ceramic. 

“Eat,” he encouraged. 

“Otherwise you might blow away. There’s supposed to be a storm tonight. Maybe even earlier.” 

As if you had planned to do literally anything else with the meal before you. When you were a kid, the storms would send you careening into the little coat closet, stuffing yourself up against the big coats and long forgotten mothballs. Rather than try to coax you out, Caleb would climb in after you, and curl his big body over yours. His legs caged your thighs, like bulwark against both yourself and the storm. He would talk endlessly, about anything, to distract you. When he ran out of things to say, he would make up stories – which he was terrible at. 

Once upon a time, there was a little princess, trapped deep in the dark, surrounded by moth-bunnies and big, big coats. But a great knight, who was very handsome and tall, came to rescue her from the dark. When she lifted his visor to see his face, it glowed radiant like the sun – and all the darkness was cast away, and she was no longer afraid.

When he ran out of those, he still had one thing to fall back on – the natural sounds of his body, which never failed to finally lull you into a state of calm.

Just listen to my heart instead, pipsqueak. I’m right here. I’ll always be by your side.

You spooned the oatmeal into your mouth. As expected, it was delicious. Your usual packet-milk combo just couldn’t compare. You swallowed, and pointed your spoon at Caleb.

“And you might blow away if you insist on subsisting on nothing but your prepped meals.”

You gestured to the fridge instead, where the perpetrators sat in their glass containers, silently awaiting their master to retrieve them for their dark purpose. 

“Mm..it would take a lot more than that to knock your Caleb down, I think.”

He hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, and his eyes followed the motion of your spoon moving from your bowl to your mouth. He didn’t wait for your retort before he spoke again.

“I’m going to bring your stuff up to my room while you finish up. No rush.” Caleb gripped your suitcase and tote, and headed towards the stairs. His room was on the top floor, with a balcony that could be used to survey lesser passers-by on the sidewalk, if one so chose. You hurriedly scraped at your oats, and sipped at the last dregs of your coffee and tea, instead of watching him go up the stairs like you wanted to. There was a series of thuds as you listened, coming from the direction of his room. As you scarfed at the last of your meal, Caleb reappeared from the stairwell, and swept the now empty bowl from your hands with his evol, floating it into the sink, along with the snail and apple mugs. They were like a strange parade of little soldiers, bobbing up and down, going into their metal trench. A watery doom. You reached for your bowl as it went instinctually, but let your hands fall. Caleb just laughed. Your body wasn’t far after this procession, and you were lifted into the air by the reflective blue fractals of Caleb’s evol, over the kitchen island, and into his waiting arms, like a princess. 

“Caleb!”

He nodded resolutely, heading for the stairs once again, clearly charmed with his cargo in tow. All of him enveloped you. 

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

He leaned closer as he went up the stairs. Your ear kept bouncing up near his lip with his movements, and he spoke softly into it. 

“Just kiddin.’ You can say it all you want. I like it when you call my name.”

You shuddered reflexively. 

Caleb brought you through the open door to his room, which proudly boasted his last name in big letters: XIA. 

His room was decently sized, though a simple affair. It had become clear to you that Caleb lived a more spartan lifestyle than you realized after you started visiting him at college. The room sported a desk, which contained some of his study materials, a chest of drawers, a bookshelf, and a queen sized bed. Nothing lined the walls. The only decoration it sported was a few model planes along the shelf, and a photo of the two of you on the nightstand. It was his favorite – the one where you were on his back, looking over at the camera. For a college student's room, it was fastidiously clean – nevermind a frat guy. You made a mental note to bring him something to liven it up, like a plant. Or something. Anything, really.

Caleb’s evol shut and locked the door behind you. Instead of setting you to your feet like you had expected, he set you delicately into his bed, on top of his plain white sheets. He crawled in after you, tossing his hat on the bedside table, and slotted himself behind you, a big breath leaving his body. You fit perfectly against the shape of him, like you were meant to be there. His big arm wrapped around your front, just below your breasts. It was still early, and there was a cascade of the sun’s rays coming in from the balcony windows, onto the place where your bodies met. It was hard to differentiate what was the warmth of Caleb’s body, and what was the warmth of the sun. You nudged him gently with your elbow.

“Are we going back to bed? This isn’t like you, mister up-and-at-em.” 

You found yourself whispering, as if there were some reason to whisper, now that you were in his room. Caleb huffed warm air against the back of your hair. He whispered, too.

“You’re right. But when you’re around, I can finally relax, pips. Makes me sleepy.” 

He curled himself tighter around you as he spoke, just like he used to, in the darkness of the little closet. You could feel his dick getting harder against your back. Neither of you mentioned it. You stayed like that for a time, and you felt Caleb’s breathing become more even. Your own eyes fluttered. You thought he must have fallen asleep, but he spoke groggily against your neck.

“Not sleepy?”

You shook your head against the pillow.

“Not not sleepy. Just not asleep yet.”

Caleb’s hand stroked up and down your upper arm soothingly. 

“Want me to sing you a lullaby?”

His voice sounded teasing, and you weren’t quite sure how serious he was being. You had always told him his voice sucked when you were younger. In reality, his singing voice soothed you more than anything else. He was a good musician, too. Even if his ukulele playing had annoyed you when you were kids.

“Yeah.”

Caleb was quiet behind you. You thought that he might not actually want to sing – but he started just as soon as you opened your mouth to make a joke. You listened quietly as his soft voice floated over the summer air in the room.

“Dites-moiPourquoiLa vie est belle?”

You recognized this. A little french lullaby from your childhood, one he would sing to you often. Especially when you couldn’t sleep, when the rain pelted the windows of that little house in Linkon, and the thunder shook its walls.

“Dites-moiPourquoiLa vie est gai?

Dites-moiPourquoi,Chère mad’moiselle,”

You let your eyes slip shut. Your body relaxed into Caleb’s, and he held you closer. The last of the song tickled the back of your neck with the vibrations of his voice. His fingers stroked down your forearm, gently petting you.

“Est-ce queParce queVous m’aimez?”

When you drifted, you fell into a dreamless sleep, lulled by the last of Caleb’s voice, and the warm grasp of his hold.

You woke to a harsh clap of thunder, your eyes forced open by the sound. You were momentarily disoriented. This was not your ceiling. Not your bed. Definitely not your room. You sat up, trying to get your bearings. Directly in your line of sight was the form of your brother, illuminated only by the orange light of his desk lamp. He was absorbed in something, his pen spinning over the knuckles of his right hand as he pondered. His left hand was over his mouth, rubbing at his jaw. Even from this distance, you could hear the soft sound of his skin scraping against the stubble there. The warmth from the light almost made his eyes swell with the pink that swam in the bottom of his irises, like the rising fresh of blood underneath thin skin. He turned towards you, and his eyebrows raised as he saw you sitting up, straight as a board. He crossed the room you in nearly an instant, pen dropped, and work quickly forgotten.

Your heart clattered against your ribs again at the sound of the thunder, and you gripped the sheets. It had been a long time since you were the little girl who crawled into the closet to hide. Caleb stood over you, looking extra tall from your low vantage point on his bed. You wanted to crawl inside of him, instead of the dark closet. Be surrounded by his warm insides, safe. Right next to the perpetual beat of his heart you’d curl, wrap your hands around its valves. Sink your teeth in.

“You alright, pips? Thunder still psychs you out, yeah? I’m here.” 

He sat on the edge of the bed, adjacent to you. The weight of his body caused your own to move just a bit closer to him. You frowned at him. Something wanted to change in you. You didn’t want to be the scared little girl in his eyes, anymore. You were an adult now, and so was he. Soon, you’d be on the field, taking out Wanderers and keeping the people of Linkon safe. You’d long been over your fear. You crawled around Caleb instead of answering his question, or going into his arms, like you so wanted to. You slipped from the bed, and went to the glass door of the balcony. 

Your hand slid the door open, feeling like it wasn’t quite a part of you as it did so. It was only raining lightly, but the clouds above were an angry swirl of blues and grays, threatening to turn torrential, like great ships tossed at sea. You saw lighting clash in the belly of them, and the sound made the hair on your arms stand on end. Still, you needed Caleb to see that you weren’t that little girl in the closet anymore. You had unstuck yourself from him, from the beat of his heart, from the stories of knights and princesses. You took a step out onto the concrete of the balcony. It was icily cold against your bare feet, and the smell of the rain whipped into your senses in full force. You had half expected Caleb to drag you back inside, but he didn’t – neither with his evol, nor his hands. Instead, he came out after you, a presence behind your back. He hadn’t touched you, but you felt the warmth of his body there. He was quiet.

No rain touched you. Not even a single drop. You checked your clothes, your exposed arms – nothing. Dryer than the day you were born. You cast your eyes above you, back to the sky. Suspended around you were the bodies of hundreds of little raindrops – unable to reach their destination on the earth. They domed around you, like a soft, watery cocoon. In them, you saw hundreds of tiny reflections of your own confused face. You turned around to Caleb, who looked down at you in turn. He didn’t even have a hand raised to keep the drops at bay. So precise was his control over his evol that he no longer even needed to gesture. As you watched, the droplets formed a little ring above his head. In a flash of lighting, they looked for a moment like a bright halo around him. Then, it was gone. Words came to your lips, and you let them fall. You didn’t hold them, like Caleb with the drops.

“You don’t need to protect me from raindrops.”

Caleb’s eyebrows raised. He sounded teasing.

“You tellin’ me what to do, now? This isn’t the way I’d like to see you get wet, princess.”

The feeling his words aroused in you only served to anger you more. It was what he was always doing – trying to redirect you, to get you to think about something else entirely, to let him keep control. 

“You can’t protect me forever, Caleb.”

You hated the way he could command the sky, the very air, all things. Making things fly, crushing them under the weight of his mind. To give you wings, or clip them. It was just as the way he treated you – like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to let you fledge, or keep you caged forever. Never quite choosing a real label for your relationship. Neither were real, fabricated upon nothing but your mutual rapport. There wasn’t even any true blood between you. So what was there, really? 

Still, when you looked up into the lilac of his eyes, his perfect nose, chapped lips – you still saw the face of your brother. The face of the man you wanted to love you as more than a sister. You wished desperately that Caleb would let the rain fall, let it wash these thoughts from you, baptize you in your own fears to chase away your desires.

But he didn’t. 

The raindrops orbited around you, like hanging toys on a mobile. Caleb blinked at you, like he didn’t understand your question.

“Why not?”

Caleb’s dog tags reflected the rising blackness of the storm, as you looked.

“Because I don’t need you–”

Caleb interrupted you. His eyes flashed with a streak of lightning. 

“You don’t need me? Is that what you think?”

All at once, the droplets began to fall around you again. You were instantly soaked. Your clothes and hair stuck to you, seeping the last of your body’s natural warmth from your skin into the air. In the time Caleb had been stopping the rain from hitting you, it had begun to come down even harder. The feeling of it all hitting you at once stung with the harsh whip of the water’s chill. Caleb stepped forward, until you were forced against the metal railing of the balcony. It dug painfully into your lower back. He pinned you there, with his body, hands on either side of you on the metal bar. Even with his clothes completely soaked through, his skin was impossibly warm. You could see the expanse of his skin underneath the wet material of his white shirt, the peaks and valleys of his muscles. Caleb’s voice began to sound frantic, higher pitched.

“Alright. What do you need? You can tell me. Do you want me to drop out of college, and move back home? I could get a job back in Linkon. Anything. We could have our own house, just you and me. I’ll build it for you. You can become a Hunter. Or, I can make you disappear. It’ll just be us, forever. You’ll never have to worry about a thing. I’ll take care of you.”

Caleb’s face was mere inches from yours. He smiled through his words, eyes turning up at the ends, as if what he was saying pleased him, excited him. But his pupils were tiny pricks, lost in the storm of his eyes. Your body began to shudder from the cold. His words had stopped making sense. This wasn’t the Caleb you knew.

“Caleb…”

All at once, he seemed to come back to himself. Whether it was your shivering or the call of his name, you couldn’t be sure. His pupils drank up more of his irises, and his voice returned back to its normal, boyish cadence. 

“Shit, baby, look at you. You’re soaked. Let’s get you inside.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue with him any longer, nor mention the sudden change in his demeanor. He didn’t even seem to care that he was also soaking wet. His skin had lost its usual flush, and was pallid instead. After seeing the look on his face, something like cold resignation settled into your stomach. He slid the balcony door open again, and his evol gently ushered you inside, a little push at your back. You took a few frozen steps, until you were dripping in the center of Caleb’s bedroom. Caleb rushed in after you, and hurried into his bathroom. He reappeared a moment later with a towel. He draped it around your head, and ruffled your hair. 

“Do you want to take a bath? I’ve got this big room now, so I have one. Or do you want me to blow dry your hair?”

You let stillness sit between the two of you for a moment before you answered. There was something you needed to know, first.

“You want to take care of me that badly?”

Caleb seemed to sense your resignation, and that the honesty of his answer mattered. He didn’t try to subvert, change directions, or control. You felt the sincerity in his response, the youthful insecurity in it.

“I don’t just want to take care of you. I want to be the only one who takes care of you. The only one you need.”

The towel dropped from you, onto the floor at his side. You had already made your decision.

“Then take off my clothes.”

Caleb looked into your face, for just a moment, as if looking for something there. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it. His expression turned into something unreadable. He gripped the hem of your shirt.

“Lift.”

You lifted your arms above your head. Caleb tugged your wet shirt away from your skin, and the cold kiss of the air hit your chest. He tossed the garment aside. He squatted, face level with the zipper of your jeans. His big hands unbuttoned the button, slid the zipper down. His touch was sure, unhurried. His evol lifted you just off the ground so that he could tug the jeans down your legs. It was no easy task, considering their dampness from the rain, but he managed it with some measure of grace. One leg, and then the other. Caleb had lifted you like this countless times before, but it struck you, as you were left in nothing but your bra and underwear, suspended a few inches in the air, Caleb crouched below you, just how powerful he really was. The man who had you suspended in the air with the sheer power of his mind was knelt before you, adhering to your whims. Stripping you at your behest. His clothes and hair were still dripping wet. His evol set you to your feet, and Caleb stood back up. You looked up at him, feeling more sure that he would go along with what you wanted, now. He always would.

“I want you to give me a bath.”

Caleb said nothing, at first. This was a face of his that you recognized. A sort of eerie stillness about him, a barely repressed anger – or maybe eagerness – burning him up, just under his skin. Like the water would evaporate off of him because of it. The room had become so dark for the storm that you could hardly tell the state of his eyes. In the low light, their usual purple almost looked black.

“Okay, baby.”

Caleb stood next to you, and his big hand came up to grip the back of your neck. Somehow, even with the state he was in, his skin was still warm. He applied a little pressure, guiding you forward towards the bathroom, wordlessly. You complied, the feeling of his casual dominance making wetness collect between your legs. Even when he was complying with what you wanted, he was still somehow in control. You went into the little bathroom, and he stepped in behind you, shutting the door. It was much similar to the bedroom – spartan, save for Caleb’s toiletries. The tiling on the wall was a pea-flower blue. It reflected distorted images of your own face back at you as you looked. Caleb gestured in front of you. You followed his finger with your eyes.

“Sit.”

You sat. The porcelain of the toilet was cold on your bare skin, but you didn’t complain. Caleb shed himself of his clothes under your gaze, leaving him only in his boxers and necklace. His muscular thighs flexed as he moved, imbued with the natural grace that only athletes could boast of. He knelt in front of the tub, right next to your knees, and turned the knob, running the water over his hand. When he deemed it acceptable, he plugged it up, and let it run. The sound of the running water echoed loudly in the small room. He turned towards you, still squatting. He lifted his hands towards your chest, and paused, as if seeking your permission. You put a foot on one of his big thighs. It was a stark contrast to the cold floor. 

“Are you going to give me a bath in my underwear?”

Caleb laughed softly, sounding in between exasperation and arousal. His hands resumed their mission, coming round your torso to unhook your bra. It took him a few tries, but it finally came free, and he slipped it from your arms, setting it aside. He shuffled backwards just slightly, taking your foot from off of his thigh with his hand. You knew him well enough, after all these years, to understand his intention. You stood, so he could access your underwear. For the third time that day, Caleb’s face was level with your groin. You looked down at him, and he up at you. He held your gaze as he hooked his fingers into your underwear, and pulled them from your hips, down your legs. You kicked them aside when they reached the floor. Still, Caleb didn’t look where he could have looked. Instead, he licked a flat stripe over your right hip bone, then your left. His tongue was warm, wet. He lapped at the place below your navel, at the junction where your hips met your legs. Further he went, slipping his tongue in between the natural fold of your thigh, not quite in between your legs, but enough that you could feel his breath hot against your sex. The places where his tongue left saliva behind on your skin felt cool against the air. You felt your abdomen clench, and your hand went for his soft hair. It was still soaked from the rain. You yanked at it, which earned you a little moan from your brother. You weren’t sure if you were directing him towards you, or away. He wasn’t giving you what you wanted – what you needed from him. He pressed his lips harder against your stomach, and then loudly blew a raspberry there. It tickled terribly, and you pushed back against his head in retaliation, trying to keep from laughing by pressing your lips together. He smiled up at you.

“I thought you wanted me to give you a bath?”

Caleb moved backwards from you as he spoke, and flicked a finger. You were in the air again, in the gentle net of his evol. It made a low hum every time it appeared, like a predator that was warning a lesser creature of its presence. He lifted you into the tub, into the warm water, and then shut off the faucet, his evol leaving little red flecks of its traces behind before disappearing entirely.  Your knees peeked just out of the water as you bent them up. It was blessedly warm, compared to the chill of the air from the rain. Your shivering finally began to subside as you sunk deeper into the water. You looked up at Caleb, who had taken up residence on the edge of the tub. He was reaching for a loofah that was hanging on the wall. It was a bright, pepto-bismol pink. You poked his thigh with an accusatory finger, remembering his licking.

“What are you, a dog?”

Caleb huffed out a laugh. He was squeezing a copious amount of his own soap onto the loofah. It was unscented – it just smelled clean. The same way Caleb always smelled. The idea that you were going to smell like him brought you a sick sense of satisfaction. Even under the water, you could still feel the places where his tongue had touched your skin. He began to scrub away at the sensation with the loofah, starting just below your neck. Suds pooled in the little wells of your collarbones. You resisted the natural urge to cover yourself with your hands. Caleb had certainly seen you naked many times before – and even now, you wanted him to see you naked. You wanted him to see you differently. You turned your body more in his direction, giving him easier access.

“Well, you’ve collared me, at least.”

Caleb spoke through an exhale of a breath, sounding strained. His necklace clinked as he moved to wash you, like it was proving his words. He lifted your arms, washed you underneath your armpits. You held them up for him. It tickled, just a little. When he let down your arms, you looked into his face.

“So you’ll never run away from me?”

Caleb titled his head, smiling. The downturn of his eyes seemed even softer in the yellow of the overhead light. The loofah went over your breasts, under them, between them. You wished he would wash you with his bare hands, instead of the soapy barrier. He moved down to your stomach. You watched the little trail of bubbles it left behind as he went.

“Even if your dog is bad sometimes, he’ll never leave you,” his hand drifted between your legs. He scrubbed. Up, down. Up, down. You wanted him to slip his fingers inside of you under the water.

 “Starve him, beat him within an inch of his life…nothing could take him from your side.”

Caleb started on your legs. He washed your thighs, and leaned down so that he could scrub behind your knees. He slipped his free hand behind there, after the loofah, thoughtfully. He looked at the suds on his hand. Then, he moved to your calves. You lifted your legs for him, to make it easier.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Caleb. You do enough of that to yourself, already.”

Caleb grasped your foot in one of his big hands. Rather than the loofah, he used the residual bubbles on his hand to scrub it, top to bottom. Your foot jerked reflexively, but he kept it still in his firm grip. He grinned at you as he went for your other foot, showing you his one crooked canine again. 

“Do you remember what Chaucer said about those with heads of glass?”

He repeated the motions on your other foot. You tried to recall what Chaucer said, what he wrote, instead of thinking of Caleb sinking his teeth into the meat of your calf. You pulled it from your dregs. The hot water was beginning to make your mind feel sluggish.

“What, do I need to be aware of ‘hostile stones that pass?’ Will it be you who throws them?”

Caleb shook his head.

“Of course not. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

His job. Of course. As your brother. The air left your lungs like wind from small sails. It was the same thing he had been saying since you were kids. Your memories of being adopted with Caleb seemed to be some of your first. Before that, it was a deep, black quagmire. Your eyes grazed the length of his right arm, the one he was using to wash you. There was a big, spidering scar at the base of his shoulder. The tendrils of it reached out against his skin, stopping at the base of his deltoid. You hated that scar. You were the reason for it. When you were teenagers, you had gotten into some kind of stupid argument with Caleb after school. It was something so meaningless that you couldn’t remember what it was about, anymore. You had stormed off, and in your irritation, walked right into a busy street. You hadn’t seen the light change. You didn’t even see the truck – but Caleb did. Back then, he had yet to achieve full control of his evol. He pushed you out of the way, and his body took the brunt of the force, the rest absorbed by his control on gravity. He was hospitalized for weeks, but had still remained sun-shinier than ever. You had escaped with only a few scrapes. He constantly had visitors – friends, admirers – even strangers seemed to flock to his natural glow. You heard the whispers. They couldn’t understand why he would jeopardize his flawless participation in sports, his future, his extracurriculars, all for his gloomy little sister. 

Well, you didn’t understand either. Caleb had recovered in record time, pushing himself to the limits in physical rehabilitation, sweat beaded on his brow, face unable to hide the exertion and pain. He never told you the extent of the injury. You had only heard the truth of it from Zayne, whose parents worked for the same hospital at the time. He was there frequently, and saw Caleb’s struggle. In reality, he had experienced major damage to the nerves in his arm – primarily the median nerve. While he had recovered the use of it entirely, the majority of his sensation in his right hand was forever lost to him. Caleb paused his scrubbing.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, you know.”

You slid your wet hands up his arm, leaning up from where you were sitting in the bath, until you were caressing the thickest point of the scar on his shoulder. Caleb’s body tensed, then relaxed. His broad chest rose and fell evenly with his breaths. You pressed down on the scar. Caleb grunted, though his face betrayed nothing.

“Liar,” you whispered.

It should have been you.

Caleb only smiled, and picked up your hand from his scar by your wrist. He pressed a kiss to the inside of it, before returning it to you. Your skin prickled in the wake of his touch.

“Time to get out.” 

You eyed Caleb. His hair, which had been wet from the rain, was beginning to frizz up from the humidity of the bathroom. You held up your index finger, and let some water from it drip on to his knee. 

“What about you?”

Caleb blinked.

“I’ll shower after.”

Somehow, you felt that if you let this moment slip between you, it would be lost to you forever, like the water in your fingers. You reached for the plug, and uncorked it, letting the water begin to drain. You turned back to Caleb.

“Let’s shower together.”

Caleb’s eyes flickered with something imperceptible. He watched the water swirl down, down, down into the drain, revealing more of your wet body to the cool air. 

“If I say yes,”

His eyes returned to you, sitting in the now empty tub. They were harder than before, unreadable.

“Will you tell me I’m the only person you do this kind of thing with?” 

You stood from the now empty bath, and reached for the knobs.

“Do you think there are other men who I let give me baths?”

You had been with other men. Men who looked like Caleb, granted. They didn’t smell like him, or act like him. But when they were inside of you, you could imagine it was your Caleb, loving you the way you wanted him to. Sort of. 

Caleb’s evol beat you to the knobs, gently lifting you out of the way of the shower spray, so you were floating just above it. The air was warmer, higher up. He smiled up at you like you were a pretty bird, flying above him.

“I don’t want to think about you with other men. Ever.”

Caleb stood up from the side of the tub. You watched, suspended naked in the air, as he peeled his boxers from his body. Even while soft, he looked big. He had a nice dick. A really nice dick. You wanted to put it in your mouth. He stepped over the edge of the tub, and pulled the curtain shut behind him. Satisfied, he directed your body down into the shower spray in front of him, so it was hitting your back. He held the backs of your arms gently as you came down, ensuring you wouldn’t slip. The water hitting your back rewarmed you, and wet some of your hair. You were suddenly acutely aware that Caleb was close. Very close. In the small space of the shower, he seemed even bigger than ever. 

“When did you get so big?” you blurted, gripping at his biceps with both hands. Caleb merely laughed, and lifted his arms for you to have better access to grope him. Your hands slipped easily from his biceps to his triceps, tracing the visible outline with your fingers. He sounded amused by your question. Or was it wry? It was hard to tell with Caleb.

“Around highschool, which is about the same time you stopped hugging me as much, and crawlin’ into my bed at night to chase away your nightmares.”

Caleb caught your hands as they moved from his triceps to his chest, and put them down gently by your sides.

“If you keep feelin’ me up like that, I won’t be able to focus on washing you or me.” 

You could feel the heat from him as his cock hardened between you, against your stomach and lower abdomen. If you had taken a single step forward, it would have been pressed against you. It was impossible not to look. You looked down, admiring it, how far it reached up the span of your abdomen. The thick vein on the side. Caleb let you look.

He reached for the soap, but you took it from his hands. 

“Let me do it.”

You squeezed a generous amount of soap into your hands, rubbing them together. You could have used the clean wash cloth that was hanging there, clearly intended for Caleb – but you didn’t. You lathered it between your fingers, instead. You had expected him to deny you, but Caleb said nothing. He just looked at you with dark eyes, watching your hands and face. You started with his collarbones, as he had you. Tracing them, then the dip in his clavicle, pressing there with your fingertip. You were close enough that you could hear the breaths he took through his nose, even over the sound of the shower. You moved down to his pecs, massaging them experimentally. He made a sound that seemed, to your ears, like a release of tension. Then came the scar on his right arm. You massaged your fingers into it, along its spindles and spires, and Caleb’s breaths stuttered and caught, though he made no move to stop you. The scar was raised and sort of tough, like it had all kinds of angry knots lurking below the surface. There was a part of you that wanted him to hurt – that wanted to punish him for sacrificing himself for you. You punished yourself, by extension. He was your brother. As much yourself as you were. You looked into his lovely, purple eyes. They were blown wide with the breadth of his pupils. 

“Does it hurt?” 

You hardly heard your own voice over the sound of the water. 

“Yeah,” Caleb breathed.

“But it’s you. So it feels good, too.”

His voice was rough, the end of the statement sounding like an admission of guilt. You looked down. Caleb’s cock was twitching and flushed, a pretty red. You released your hold on his scar, and washed his abs, instead. Your hands rolled over them. His physique was ridiculous – and you knew all too well the limits he pushed himself to maintain it. Strength and beauty had a price, as was the way of all things. His skin twitched under your touch. Down you went, until your hands were flush with his v-line, just above his dick. You avoided it, and instead knelt before him, massaging the soap into one of his meaty thighs. You looked up.

Caleb was making that face again. That anger, eagerness. 

You could see the precum leaking from his cock, as it was flush with your face. Instead of putting your mouth around it like you wanted to, you washed his calf, and then the top of his foot. You repeated the same routine on the other side, but stayed kneeling. You peered up at him. The water pounded your back, and soaked your hair. It was falling as such that it kept plugging up your nostrils, making it hard to breathe. Nearly as soon as the thought had crossed your mind, Caleb was helping you to your feet by your forearms. Or rather, he picked you up by your forearms, and switched your positions, lifting you like you were a doll, so that he was standing with his back to the water, and you stood facing him. 

“If you stay down there, you’ll drown,” he said, hoarsely. 

You stared at him. You had practically been offering to suck him off then and there. He rinsed the soap from his body with military efficiency, like his dick wasn’t hanging heavily between his legs. 

“All finished?”

You nodded, dumbly. What else could you do? Even while the both of you were stark naked, it was just as it had always been. Caleb, hard around you, from touching you. Both of you ignoring it. Just two bodies. Not two feelings. Nothing more than a response to stimuli. Caleb shut off the shower, and the faucet pin echoed loudly in the now quiet room. He opened the curtain. You stepped out first, and Caleb was quick to follow. He handed you a towel from the rack, and then rubbed one on himself, his hair. You watched, enraptured, as he adjusted his dick so that he could wrap the towel around his waist. Seemingly satisfied, he looked up at you.

You dried yourself quickly, as if your staring was somehow the worst offense that had occurred between you. Your normal shower routine wasn’t exactly at the forefront of your mind. The heat began to feel too much. You quit the bathroom quickly, and were hit instantly by the comparatively cool air of Caleb’s room. You had spent a long while in the hot water, and your head pounded with the rapid change in temperature. Your feet felt unsteady, and you took an unsure step forward, which nearly sent you curling into yourself onto your knees for the headrush. But Caleb was behind you, anticipating your needs before you even knew them yourself, like always.

“Whoa there. Don’t go anywhere on me, now.”

You leaned back into his broad chest. He was still damp, solid and unwavering.

“Caleb,” you breathed. It was somehow helpful just to say his name. It cooled the heated air from your mouth.

“Yeah, baby. I’m here.”

The towel, no longer supported by your hand, dropped from your body. You felt Caleb begin to reach for it, but you turned around, and pressed yourself to him instead. His body was a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. He never stopped radiating an otherworldly heat, even when it was freezing outside. Your tits squished against his lower chest, your face turned to the side, near his heart. It pattered a rhythm, strong and quick. You wondered how big the heart of such a large man really was. You made a fist against the place where his heart lived. Surely, the size couldn’t compare. You were strangely jealous of the thing that pumped his life through him, all day, every day. You wanted to be just as close, all of the time. The necklace you had given him had to do it in your place. You were jealous of the piece of metal, too. Caleb’s hands hovered for a moment, as if unsure, and then rubbed up and down your bare back, the sound of skin against skin loud to your ears. 

“I can’t promise I’ll keep my cool when you’re like this, pips.”

Caleb’s voice sounded calculated, soft. Like there was more to what he was saying than just his words. He squeezed your hips, thumbs digging in. In the time you had been against him, you felt him harden underneath your stomach all over again through his towel. You wrapped your arms around him, and dragged your nails over the skin of his back, up and down. 

“What if I don’t want you to keep it? Maybe I want you to lose control.”

Caleb hissed through his teeth at the feeling of your nails on his back. His body pressed harder against yours, grinding his cock against the soft skin of your stomach through his towel. He leaned down, so that his lips were nearly against your ear. His teeth grazed your earlobe.

“Use your words, then. Say, ‘Caleb, I want you to lose control.’”

Gooseflesh erupted all over your body, under Caleb’s fingers. You licked your dry lips with your tongue, trying to find the saliva to wet your words. The truth came to you with some difficulty. 

“Caleb, I…want you to lose control.”

That was all it took. Caleb dropped the towel from his hips instantly, and he picked you up, gripping your ass. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his torso, and clung to him. You half expected him to take you to the bed – to literally anywhere else – but his fingers were grazing between your legs as you held on to him, your position leaving you just the right amount of open for him. 

“Better hold on tight,” he teased, though you knew there wasn’t a chance of him dropping you, between his strength and his evol. Just one finger teased your slit, then pressed you open, wasting no time in going knuckle deep inside of you. His finger was thick and long, and filled you up in a different kind of way than your own. Your body clenched around it of its own accord.

“Shi-iit, you’re so wet. Is this all cause of me?”

He didn’t seem to care whether or not you answered – maybe because he already knew the truth. Another finger joined the first not long after, and he made scissoring motions between moving them in and out, like he was trying to do extra work to stretch you open. Your thighs began to shudder with the effort of holding on to him. Caleb seemed to sense your distress, because he walked you effortlessly to his bed, and leaned down so that he could deposit you there on your back. He stood between your open legs at the edge of the bed.

It was the first time you had seen his face since you had put your body against his. He had the look of a man who was teetering on the edge, who had just gotten something he had been waiting for for a long, long time. His fingers were still inside of you, and he added a third, leaning down to spit in between your legs to make the glide easier. You put a hand over your mouth, suddenly alarmed by the situation. The other men in the house were definitely home, and these walls were definitely thin. Nevermind that they called you his little sister. Caleb pulled your hand away from your mouth by your wrist. His fingers inside of you didn’t relent.

“Nah, none of that. Be a good girl and let me hear you. Talk to me.”

He leaned over you, fingers still working you impossibly open. You pushed against his chest, which did absolutely nothing to dislodge him.

“Caleb,” you hissed, “the walls — what if someone hears–” 

“They’re insulated. No one will hear, princess.”

His fingers curled inside you. You dug your nails into his chest, and they grazed over the scar on his right arm. He flinched, almost imperceptibly. 

“Liar,” you breathed.

Caleb hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“You can call me whatever you want,” his free hand squeezed your tit roughly, rolling it between his palm. He pinched your nipple between two fingers, tugging on it. The other received the same not-so-delicate treatment. 

“Liar, Stubborn Caleb, Dummy Caleb,” his teeth sank into your neck, for just a moment. He licked at it, speaking against your skin, close to your ear.

“...big brother. It doesn’t matter. I’m the one who’s fucking you, no matter what you call me.”

You clenched around his fingers, and wished it was his cock. You felt him smile against your neck. He leaned up, and withdrew his fingers, slowly. You ached, suddenly empty of him. Above you, in between your open legs, he was the picture of masculinity. A sheen of sweat coated him, and his dark hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat. Between his legs, his cock hung hard and heavy. You sat up, feeling it was unfair that he was the only one who had touched you. You raked your fingers down his chest and abs, and wrapped both hands around his cock, smiling up at him. He bucked into your hands, a low whine coming from his throat. He threaded a hand through your hair, pulling on it, just enough to hurt.

“Fuck, your lil’ hands look so cute wrapped around my cock like that. I want to take a picture. Can I take a picture? Just for me, pips.” 

Had it been anyone else – anyone from your past – you would have instantly said no. But Caleb had never done anything to break your trust. He could be a liar, but not like this. His lilac eyes were big and honest, imploring. You nodded.

“Okay, Caleb. Just for you.” 

A bright smile erupted over his face, and his dick twitched in your hands. 

“Thank you, pretty girl. So good to me, huh?”

His evol brought his phone to his hands from the nightstand, and he made quick work of taking a photo, lining up his phone at the perfect angle to capture both of your hands wrapped around his leaking cock. He stared at it. 

“I’m gonna cum just from this,” he grumbled, and tossed his phone aside. You twisted your hands around him, and he pulled your hands away from his dick in response. He held you by your forearms, and pulled you close, leaning down so that he could speak into your face. 

“Don’t do that, baby. Be a good girl so Caleb can fuck you, yeah? Lay down. I want to see your pretty face while I’m inside of you.”

You complied, scooting backwards until you were lying back against one of Caleb’s pillows, fully on the bed now. You watched with interest as he opened the bedside table drawer and produced a bottle of lube. It was unopened, and he tore the plastic off of the top with his teeth. He spit the plastic out of his mouth onto the floor. You snickered, and he grinned at you. You pointed to the lube.

“Going through so much lube that you just bought a new bottle?” 

Caleb rolled his eyes at you, squeezing a small amount directly onto his cock. 

“No. I bought this for us. Just in case. No one else has ever touched me but you.”

He fisted his cock roughly in his hand, like he hadn’t just casually revealed that information to you. You gaped at him. Not only had he never been with anyone else, but he had purchased lube in preparation for the day you actually had sex. Your brother, who wasn’t your brother. He had been anticipating it – or at least been hopeful.

“No one else? Are you serious? But you have people practically hanging off of you constantly. I thought for sure…” 

Caleb shrugged, and crawled over you on the bed. It creaked under his weight as he nestled himself between your thighs, holding himself over your face. His necklace dangled between you.

“So? I don’t want anyone else wrapped around my cock but you. It makes me happy that you’re jealous, though.” 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m not jealous,” you lied. Of course, you both knew it was a lie. Caleb smiled a knowing smile. He pushed down on his cock with his index finger and thumb, and lined himself up against you. 

“Not jealous?” He sounded smug, in the way that only men with big dicks could. His cock rubbed against you, slipping wetly between your legs, not fucking you. The lube made the sounds even wetter, more lewd. 

“No – because you’re my b–” you stopped yourself. Something in between the words big brother and boyfriend was about to fall out of your mouth. Caleb pushed the head of his cock inside of you, and nothing else. You tried to lift your hips into him, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Your what? Your…b-b-boyfriend? Orrr…” Two of Caleb’s big fingers took the necklace that was hanging in your face and pushed it past your lips, into your mouth. He leaned down on his forearms, so that his whole body covered yours. His voice took on the same edge he used to tease you when you were kids.

“Your big brother? Is that what you were gonna say, baby?” 

As he spoke, he snapped his hips up inside of you, bottoming out. Between the feeling of him filling you up and his necklace in your mouth, it was impossible for you to answer. You could only breathe around the metal, trying to get used to the feeling of accommodating his size. He stroked your side with his hand, squeezing your tits, rolling over your ribcage. His cock twitched inside you, again and again and again. You whined. Caleb immediately began to move. 

It was like he couldn’t help but set a punishing pace, hips snapping into yours with loud smacks that could definitely be heard through the thin walls. Your body was moved up and down against the mattress with the force of it. He fucked you open, the pleasure arching out from between your thighs, all the way into the tops of your feet. Caleb growled a command into your ear.

“Open your mouth.” 

You did so, the dog tag still inside. He lifted his head, and made a motion with his jaw. He let spit drip into your mouth from his own, covering the necklace, wetting your insides with himself. You sucked on it.

“Good girl. You take everything I give you so well. Makes me wanna stuff up all of your holes. Fuck.”

Caleb pulled the necklace from your mouth, and tossed it behind his back. He replaced it with his mouth on yours, in something that was hardly a kiss and more like a close exchange of spit. He licked your tongue, pushing his against your own, sucked at your teeth. His cock hit you in a way that was just right, and his fingers moved in between your legs, encouraging you towards release with a focus on your pleasure. You moaned into his mouth, earlier worries about disturbing the other boys forgotten. He swallowed your sounds up with his mouth, encouraging you.

“I know baby, I know. C’mon, you can do – it.”

As his hand worked you, Caleb leaned up, pulling one of your feet towards him. He licked from the bottom of your sole to your toes, sucking them into his mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, filthy, and wet. You were so lost in him that the combination of his hands and mouth all over you crested you over the edge, and you were cumming around his cock. Your voice was calling his name, and Caleb rocked into you harder, holding your legs open below your knees to give him better access. His sweat dripped onto your chest.

“You want my cum? Ask me for it. Say ‘Pleeease.”

You hardly had words. Finding ‘please' seemed a herculean task.

“Please–”

Caleb paused his movements, stilling completely with just the tip inside of you. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes.

“Please, what?”  

He didn’t sound much more composed than you were. You gave it your last bit of energy.

“Please, Caleb!”

Caleb grunted, and slammed his hips back into yours, all the way inside of you again. The sound of you begging for him seemed to push him over the edge.

“There you go. Shit, take it–”

You felt him spill inside of you, and he clasped his strong arms around your body behind your back, putting his full weight on you as he came. He kissed your face sloppily, missing your lips. He licked at the tears in the corners of your eyes, and kissed you there, lips dragging across your face. You stayed there for a time, both blissfully catching the breath you had lost between you, enjoying the newfound closeness.

You laid your head on Caleb’s sweaty chest, listening to the slowing beat of his heart. The sound itself seemed devotional, under your ear. He pressed a kiss to the top of your scalp, and inhaled. You spread a hand over his taut abdomen, and it shuddered under your touch. He was tan from the summer, and had a cute tan line from his shorts. He must have started running shirtless when it got too hot. You petted the soft hair of his happy trail. It was the same dark color as his hair. You watched his cock. It was still hard, somehow, and twitched with interest under your attention. You poked it with an accusatory finger.

“I didn’t know you were into feet.”

Caleb laughed, a bright, happy sound that shook his chest, making your head move up and down with his movement.

“I’m not, really. I’m into you. I’d lick any part of you – the bottoms of your feet, your asshole, whatever.”

You paused your poking. The heat that had only just begun to die down from your skin rose back up, against your will. Did he hear himself?

“Caleb.”

He adjusted his legs, so one knee was bent up, comfortably. The room smelled like him, like sex with him. It put you deeply at ease. 

“What? I’m dead serious.”

He ruffled his hand through your hair, exposing your scalp to the cool air, lifting your hair so that some of the heat could release from it. You leaned into his gentle touch. His voice became softer, imploring.

“Do you wanna come to a party tonight, pips?”

You turned towards him, supporting yourself with a hand propped up on his chest. His handsome face was still flushed with exertion, lips extra pink. Adoration was unabashedly clear in his eyes. You cocked your head at him, wary. You didn’t mind a party, but a frat party was a whole other animal. 

“What kind of party?”

Caleb’s eyes flicked down to your lips, roving over your face. He pressed a kiss to your lips, licked them. Then the sides of your mouth, your temples. He pulled away to answer. His lips shone wetly.

“A toga party. I know it’s not usually your thing, buuut you might have fun with me, right? I’m not gonna drink, so you can get lit, and I’ll take care of you, yeah?” 

You stared at him. You just knew he was going to wear a sheet as a toga, and that his hat, which followed him everywhere, was going to accompany it. You put a hand over your mouth, trying to cover your smile at the image. Caleb grinned, too, like he knew exactly what you were thinking. 

“Can I take that cute smile as a yes?”

You sat up, feeling the dried sweat on your body. Caleb’s cum was still inside of you. You felt it leak onto the sheets as you sat up. You needed a shower, desperately. Caleb, clearly upset at the loss of contact, put his hand on your knee. You brushed your fingers over his knuckles.

“Fine. But we have to shower again. Separately.” 

Caleb nodded sagely, stroking an imaginary beard.

“Right, right. If we showered together again, I’d fuck you so good you wouldn’t even be able to walk to the car.”

You smacked his firm bicep, which only made him grin wider in response. 

“Feisty girl, aren’t you?”

Caleb let you shower first – alone, this time. Counting the one you had taken before getting on the train this morning, this was your third shower today. Maybe some kind of new record. Of course, there was the fact that you had sex with Caleb. You watched your reflection in the mirror as you dried your hair. You had sex with Caleb. Not only that, but he had only ever had sex with you. You had fully expected him to have experience with other people – he was wildly popular, after all. You wouldn’t have blamed him in the slightest. A weight was lifted, in a sense. But the same issue still nagged at you – even now, you didn’t know where you stood. Were you attending this party as his sister, or his girlfriend? He hadn’t mentioned it. You needed to know how to act, but couldn’t quite find the words with which to ask right after having him balls deep inside of you. You resisted the urge to bang your head against the mirror. Barely.

You fixed your face as you liked, with a little something extra for the party, and shoved your things back into your toiletry bag, which Caleb had diligently brought into the bathroom while you were showering, along with an extra toothbrush. Feeling significantly more re-energized with clean hair and a fresh face, you exited the bathroom with a new towel wrapped about your torso. Caleb was sitting on the edge of the bed, still completely naked, fiddling with something on his phone. He looked up as you came out, and smiled. 

“Pretty as a picture.”

You smiled back, making a dismissive gesture at him. You felt strangely shy now that you looked at him, knowing he had been inside of you. Caleb raised a brow at you, and stood, stalking towards you with purpose. He pulled the towel from your body, despite your attempt to yank it back. He pressed on your lower back and stomach, essentially folding you in half. You gripped the back of your thighs, deeply confused. Caleb knelt behind you, and pushed his face into your pussy, licking you deeply from behind. His tongue fucked into you without warning, and you yelped.

“Caleb–!”

But as soon as you spoke, he was standing again, and righted you into a standing position, too. He wrapped your towel back around you, like nothing had just happened.

You stared at him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking smug.

“Sorry. I just wanted a taste before we go.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the restroom. You stared at the door long after he was gone, trying to get ahold of yourself. Instead of trying to dwell on the feeling of his tongue inside of you, or the fact that this was your reality now, you crossed the room to where Caleb had put your suitcase near his closet.

You rifled through what you had brought. First, a pair of underwear that your ass wouldn’t totally fall out of in your skirt. The skirt was shorter than usual, but Caleb had mentioned the party briefly in passing, so you had included it, just in case. A pair of thigh high socks. A little black and white corset top – comfortable, but cute, with long sleeves so you felt less exposed. No bra necessary. A bag you could strap across your back without having to worry about it. The last part was the hardest. A pair of knee high docs. They were cute, but ridiculously hard to get on and off. You spent some time unlacing them, then lacing them back onto your legs, while Caleb banged around in the shower. You wouldn’t normally wear shoes inside, but the carpet would survive, just this once. 

When you looked up from your shoes, something on Caleb’s desk caught your eye, illuminated by his little yellow lamp. It was an unassuming notebook. You stood, and made your way to the desk. It occurred to you that maybe you shouldn’t pry – but he had left it out, unlabeled. You opened it to a random page. It was a list in Caleb’s boyish scrawl. It was labeled simply: Wants. You read down the list. It was mostly mundane items, some of them crossed out. As it went on, a sense of understanding dawned on you. These were things you had mentioned to Caleb that you wanted or needed. Some he had already gifted to you, some he clearly planned to. The most recent was that expensive hair dryer you wanted – the one with the curling function. You had mentioned it to him in passing, not because you wanted him to buy it for you – you had just been talking. The thing was insanely expensive. He had gifted it to you last month, and you had brought it with you to visit this time. It was crossed out on the list. Your heart did a strange flip in your chest, like it was trying to go live where your stomach dwelled. 

You turned the page. There was this month’s calendar, with notes scrawled on each day. It was very clearly your schedule, though you couldn’t recall ever sharing it with Caleb in such detail. There were notes scribbled on nearly every day – things like ‘ tutors that red-head in French’ and ‘Civil Procedures lecture @10:30AM.’ 

You were open with Caleb, sure. But you definitely hadn’t told him all of this. You didn’t have long to ponder, though, because the sound of Caleb cutting off the hair dryer interrupted your thoughts. You flipped the notebook shut, and flung yourself back into a sitting position on Caleb’s bed, legs hanging off the side. Caleb came out, bringing a rush of warm, wet air with him. He peered at you curiously, still in nothing but a towel. You weren’t sure you had ever seen Caleb naked so much in your life as you had in the last twenty-four hours.

“Whatcha up to, pipsqueak?” 

You shook your head, kicking your boots back and forth.

“Nothing.”

Definitely not looking through the book he clearly used to keep tabs on your every move, just casually sitting atop his desk.

Nope.

Caleb gave you an incredulous look.

“Oookay.” 

Clearly, he didn’t believe you – but he didn’t pry, either. Caleb padded towards his chest of drawers, and dug around for boxers, socks, and shorts. You watched the muscles of his back slide under his skin as he did so, admiring how one muscle connected to another. He had great lats – like beautiful wings when he stretched his arms out. You wanted to bite him. Caleb was stepping into his clothes, not looking at you while he spoke.

“You look way too fucking hot. I’m not lookin’ at you before I get these on, because if I do, I’ll fuck you again. And I won’t want anyone else to see you like this, either. I mean, I still kind of don’t, but I also want everyone to know how hot my girl is.” 

Caleb’s clearly conflicted train of thought made a laugh bubble up from your chest. You tried to parse the latter half of his statement – his girl. Did that mean you were attending the party tonight in the role of his girlfriend? It almost sounded like it. You secretly hoped that was the case, as it usually was at social gatherings like this. It helped keep people off of him – sort of. 

He turned back to you, clearly half-hard in his shorts. He adjusted his dick while looking into your face. 

“Okay. Now that we’ve established that, want to help me with my toga?” 

You raised a brow at him.

“You actually have a toga?”

Caleb rummaged through his bottom drawer, and produced a white sheet, which he held up to you triumphantly, like he was presenting you with the ghost of a kill he had made for tonight’s dinner. 

“Totally.” 

Getting Caleb into the ‘toga’ was an ordeal in its own right. You ended up cinching it around the waist with one of his flight belts, and clasped it with one of your hair clips at the shoulder, to give it the toga look. The clip was a cute one, with little apples on it. Caleb sported this strange assortment of items proudly, crowned with his black ball cap, facing forward this time. On anyone else, it would have been purely goofy. But for Caleb, who had quite literally everything going for him, he only managed to look more charming and handsome. He could have worn a sack and still looked hot – and for all intents and purposes, he basically was. You finally made it back down the stairs with Caleb, who was busy looking through the fridge. 

“You should eat something before we go, since you’re going to drink. Want me to make you something?” 

Caleb shut the fridge, and motioned to the stove. The image of him cooking while in the makeshift toga drifted through your mind, and you had to control your face to keep from laughing. 

“That’s okay. Do you have a protein bar or something? I don’t want to feel all bloated before we go. What about you?”

Caleb nodded, and turned towards the pantry instead. There was a lot of rustling, but you couldn’t see what he was looking for because of how broad his back was. It covered the entirety of the damn pantry. He turned back to you, protein bar in hand. It was suspiciously cute and pink – definitely not the kind he usually ate. You had a sneaking suspicion it was something he had purchased for your benefit. 

“I ate while you were in the shower, earlier. Plus, I’m not the one who’ll be drinking.”

You took the bar from him, and tore it open. Some sort of inoffensive chocolate flavor, with sprinkles. Really not bad for a protein bar, all things considered. It would do for a pre-game snack. You made quick work of it under Caleb’s watchful eye, who seemingly had nothing better to do than watch you eat with an elbow propped up on the counter. He took the wrapper from you when you were done and trashed it. Satisfied that you had consumed something, Caleb turned towards the rest of the house, and took in a great inhale of air.

“GIDEON! LIAM! LET’S FUCKIN’ GOOO!”

His voice boomed through the building. You had almost never heard him project like that. It was kind of impressive – and kind of annoying, in the way only your big brother’s voice could be. You wondered where the hell he got the energy to be on ten all of the time. Two sets of heavy footsteps came tromping down the stairs, and Liam and Gideon appeared before Caleb, in equally ridiculous makeshift togas. They looked like the world’s silliest attendees to the Roman Forum, but in a sexy way.

The three men walked ahead of you into the entryway, and put on their shoes. Caleb was, of course, wearing his combat boots to complete the look. He patted the pockets of the shorts he was wearing underneath the sheet, feeling around to ensure he had his phone and keys. 

“Liam,” Caleb called,

“You drive.” 

Liam simply nodded, and he and Gideon elbowed each other to get out of the door first, bickering under their breaths. Caleb slipped his fingers through yours, and he led you from the door, shutting and locking it behind him.

Liam drove a Jeep, much like the one Caleb had left at home for you to drive. It was technically his car, but you loved it so much that he had given it to you to use while he was away at college. He had spent years tinkering with that thing – and he had taught you to drive in it too, ensuring you could drive a manual. Even with all the time he had been away, it still smelled like him. When you couldn’t sleep at night, Caleb would take you for long drives, until you no longer recognized the roads, and the movement of the car lulled you to sleep. You’d wake up back in your bed, knowing Caleb must have carried you there. 

Caleb opened the back door of the car for you, letting you get in first. He got in after you. It was almost funny to see such a big guy clamber into the little space. Liam sat in the driver’s seat, and Gideon had shotgun. He turned back to you, and waved his phone in your direction, which was plugged into the USB port. 

“Any requests for the DJ?”

You thought back to what you and Caleb had been listening to recently. He was big into Nine Inch Nails. So were you. When he was a teenager, you would sit in his lap and listen, one headphone in your ear, one in his, in his room. The lyrics made you feel like you were getting away with something you shouldn’t, Caleb’s head bobbing over your shoulder, bouncing you up and down on his lap with his knee, in time with the music.

“Can you put on ‘Discipline?’ It’s Nine Inch Nails.”

Gideon nodded his assent. He started the song up. Teenaged Caleb’s words echoed in your head. 

The main synth is made mostly from a Vostok semi-modular eurotrack synth setup...but basically, it’s just guitars and synths through effects.

Trent Reznor’s voice cut through the air like little blades, supported by the crunch of the bass.

Am I

Am I still tough enough?

Caleb nudged you with his shoulder, and leaned down to whisper into your ear.

“Hey. Sit in my lap instead.” 

You glanced at Gideon and Liam, who were talking over the music heatedly about something. You gestured to them with your body. It was dark in the car, but still.

Feels like I’m wearin’ down, down, down, down, down

“What about–”

Caleb shook his head, interrupting you.

“They don’t care. C’mon, pips. It’s a super short drive down this road. You used to love sittin’ in my lap when you were a kid.”

'They don’t care,’ sounded more like 'They already know what I’m up to.' You eyed Caleb warily for a moment. He gave you an innocent look, complete with puppy eyes. You unbuckled your seatbelt, and slid into his lap, learning against the warmth of his broad chest. The stupid sheet was kind of in the way. Caleb exhaled hotly against your ear, reclining to make it easier for you to sit on him.

Is my viciousness

Losing ground, ground, ground, ground, ground?

“Yeah, there you go, baby. Perfect.”

Caleb’s hands slipped up your thighs, rubbing up and down over your bare skin. Liam guided the car from the drive, and started down the road. The movement jostled you on top of Caleb, and he gripped at the flesh of your thighs, keeping you in place. You felt his dick twitch to life underneath you, through your underwear. One of his hands slipped further up your thigh, under your skirt. The other tugged your skirt down, so that his hand was hidden from view. Caleb’s hand touched you over your underwear, finger just gently gliding between your legs over the fabric, like an afterthought.

Am I taking too much?

“Gideon,” he called over your shoulder.

“Did you get the stuff for the drinks?”

Gideon tilted his head back to catch what Caleb was saying. You tensed up, but Caleb didn’t move his hand at all. Instead, his fingers pushed your panties to the side. He felt how wet you were, sliding between you.

Did I cross the line, line, line?

“Yeah, man. It’s in the back. Everything you asked for.” 

Caleb leaned further over your shoulder to speak.

“You’re the GOAT. Thanks.” 

Caleb’s middle finger slipped inside of you without a second thought. He moved it in and out, and the sound was loud, even with the music. You gripped at his wrist, but he didn’t stop. Gideon turned back around.

I need my role in this

Very clearly defined

“No problem. I got you.”

Caleb added another finger, and attached his lips to your neck, sucking. He was clearly intent on leaving a mark before you arrived at the party, and was succeeding. Any squirming you did was futile in his grip. He fingerfucked you harder. It was like he wanted to squeeze an orgasm out of you in the very short time you would be in the car. He just wanted to be inside of you, to touch you. Like he just couldn’t help himself. You had finally uncorked years of frustration, and he was taking it out on you in the best way possible.

I need your discipline

I need your help

You dug your hips back against his lap in retaliation, and Caleb grunted in response. You would have much preferred he just fuck you again, but there was no way it was going to happen in a car with two other people who you liked. Or even two people you didn’t like. Even if they didn’t care – or so Caleb said. He added the attention of his thumb along with his two fingers, and you gripped at his thigh, trying to keep your mouth shut.

I need your discipline

You know once I start

I cannot help myself

Caleb mouthed your ear, drowning out the sound of the conversation in the car with his soft voice.

“Think you can cum for me in my lap like this, princess? Gonna cum on Caleb’s fingers?”

And now it’s starting up

Feels like I’m losing touch

You shook your head. Not quite saying no – just overwhelmed with the situation. How were you supposed to finish when there were other people less than a foot away, having a full blown conversation? At least the music was blessedly loud, but Caleb gave you no reprieve from his thumb and the fingers inside of you. 

“I think you can. You can do it for me, right?”

Ooh, and nothing matters to me

Nothing matters this much

You nodded instead, because your orgasm was closing in on you, despite your trepidation. Your body – your mind had wanted Caleb for so long that it was so easy for him to coax one out of you, now. Caleb replaced the hand you had over your mouth with his own. It dominated the lower half of your face, covering your nose and mouth. Everything was Caleb.

I see you left a mark

Up and down my skin, skin, skin

You rocked your hips into Caleb’s fingers, and you felt him nod his encouragement against your neck.

“Mhm. Yeah. Just like that.”

 His big hand tightened around your face. Your breathing was loud through the small openings in his fingers, and you were near certain you had drooled on him. 

I don’t know where I end

And where you begin

Caleb’s teeth sank into your neck again, and your orgasm found you. You came on his fingers, and he worked you through it, still fingerfucking you. You had to forcibly push him off to get some reprieve, and his fingers came out of you with a wet schluck. He sucked them into his mouth, and you heard rather than saw the sounds of him licking them clean of you. His dick twitched under your ass as he licked them. You leaned back against his chest, trying to catch your breath. His free hand rubbed soothing circles on your stomach. The sound of Liam’s voice made you sit up straight, and pull down on your skirt.

“Yo, we’re here. Gonna get the stuff out of the back.”

He parked the jeep on the roadside as he spoke, and cut the engine. He and Gideon exited the car, and went around to open the back. The music came to an abrupt stop, and a different kind of music reached your ears. Even through the windows of the car, you could hear the bass of it pumping from inside of the house. You peered through the window. People milled about in the yard. The place was nearly identical to the one Caleb was residing in. He patted the side of your thigh.

“Up and at ‘em, pips. Gotta help these guys out.”

He spoke like he hadn’t just worked an orgasm out of you in under a minute. Caleb opened the door for you, and you slipped off of his lap onto the sidewalk. It took you a moment to find your footing, and you had to discreetly try to adjust your underwear back into place. They were now uncomfortably wet. You turned to glare at Caleb, who had already climbed out and shut the door behind you. He steadied you with hands around your waist, rubbing up and down your sides.

“You okay, princess? Was that too much?”

His tone was way too innocent for how he had been acting moments prior.

“I’m okay. You, however, are clinically insane.”

Caleb blew cool air on the back of your neck, lifting your hair out of the way.

“Well, yeah. I jerk off thinkin’ about you, like, three or four times a day. Now that I can finally have you, you drive me crazier than ever. Wait here for just a sec, okay?”

Caleb jogged to the back of the car, pockets jingling, like he hadn’t just admitted that to you.  There was a rustling, along with a murmur of agreement from the three men. You watched with big eyes as they all came back around with grocery bags full of god-knows-what in hand. Caleb transferred all of the bags he was holding to his left hand, and put his right around your waist. 

“Ready?” 

You didn’t quite feel ready, post orgasm. Maybe you should have taken a pregame shot before coming. You nodded yes, anyway. You knew you didn’t have anything to worry about with popular, sunshine Caleb around. Well, besides his popularity. Maybe you should be worried. He guided you into the house party, flanked by Gideon and Liam on either side, like some sort of toga-clad guard detail. There was a rousing whoop as your group entered, clearly from people who recognized your boys. The throng of people was already pressed close around you, and the party was only just beginning. Young men in makeshift togas dominated the space, their loud voices making it hard to hear anything else besides them and the music. The house was nearly identical to Caleb’s on the inside. You clung closer to him as you made your way to the kitchen. 

Caleb dropped the bags on the already full counter, next to a comically large stack of red solo cups. From it he produced vodka, peach Schnapps, everclear, Triple Sec, Sprite, pineapple juice, fruits…it just kept coming. You stared, watching in silent horror and awe. Liam and Gideon began opening the bottles, and pouring them diligently into a big, orange, spigoted dispenser, along with the cut fruit. Caleb frowned.

“We probably should have soaked the fruits beforehand. But who has time for that?”

You just looked at him. Liam was stirring the corrupted mixture with a big, metal ladle, like some kind of witch's brew. Caleb held a red solo cup under the spigot, and the liquid, which was now a radioactive sort of red, poured into it. He put it into your hands. You stared at it, and then at him. 

“What the hell is this, Caleb?”

Caleb cocked his head at you, and smiled. He tapped the side of your cup with his fingertip.

“Jungle juice, duh. Don’t worry, it won’t kill you. Promise I had these guys get only the best ingredients for my little girl.” 

People were milling around the kitchen now, helping themselves to the concoction. You were saved from being shoved around by Caleb pressing you against the kitchen counter with his body weight. His arms were on either side of you. Between his words and his proximity, you couldn’t keep the rise of heat from your face. Even after he had showered, you swore you could still smell the sex on him. You stared down into the cup instead of up at Caleb.

Well, you had probably had worse. No, definitely. 

Caleb leaned down closer to your ear, whispering so that only you could hear.

“You don’t have to drink, baby. No pressure. I can toss it if you want. No big deal.” 

You shook your head. Drinking wasn’t the issue here. You had never been drunk around Caleb before – and for good reason. You were worried you would try to feel him up, or worse, confess. Now, the former wasn’t so much of a problem. The latter – well, that was a problem for the you of the future. You looked back up into his eyes, and resolutely took a sip. Caleb’s eyes followed the movement of the liquid down your throat as you swallowed. The taste wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought. More like…exactly what you imagined. The burn of alcohol with a hint of fruit and soda, enough to knock most people flat on their asses after one or two cups. Caleb tilted up your chin with two fingers, and leaned in close. His tongue passed over his open lips, and he dragged it over yours, licking at your mouth. You waited for him to kiss you fully, but it never came. He smacked his lips, and made a face like he was pondering the taste, his eyes roving up and to the right.

“Ooh. That’s the good stuff. Don’t have too much, yeah?”

Before you could answer and tell him that you were a fully grown adult who could regulate your own alcohol consumption, thank you very much, there was a commotion, and a chorus of voices Called Caleb’s name. You saw irritation flash over his features for just the briefest moment. Anyone else probably would have missed it, but you had known Caleb for long enough to see it. 

“Will you be okay without me for a sec?”

You shoved his chest gently with the flat of your palms. 

“Go on. I’m not a little kid anymore. I’ll live.”

Caleb wavered for a moment, but then relaxed. 

“Okay. Keep your phone turned up. I shouldn’t be long.”

You dutifully took your phone from your bag, and turned up the ringer as Caleb disappeared into the crowd. You spent some time chatting idly with Liam and Gideon, who were good company, but they too were eventually commandeered by other men in togas, giving you apologetic looks as they left you behind. You ended up sort of pressed into the kitchen counter by a group of people you didn’t recognize, who were friendly, but sweaty. In that time, you had another cup or two in an attempt to keep up with the increasingly nonsensical conversation.

Feeling the need to escape the hot air that other people were breathing in your general direction, you spied a patio door, and pushed your way through the crowd, holding your cup above your head so it wouldn’t spill as you were pushed here and there. You slipped out of the crowd and out the door, which was already slightly ajar. The difference in air quality was significant, and you took a deep breath, finally not breathing in the exhale of other people. The crowd wasn’t nearly as dense out here. It opened into a decently sized, raised patio, with a backyard that was hugged on either side by towering oak trees, cut neatly across by a wooden fence.  Some couples sat in the grass, reclining, and a few people smoked. The ratio of red solo cups was significantly less dense, as well. You spied a place on the wooden patio that looked good to lean on while you soaked in the fresh air, and made for it, leaning your back against the wood, finally able to breathe.

The sky above you had gone completely dark. The rain had long since stopped, but the air was still slightly fresh with wetness, and the clean smell that came with it. Despite the light pollution, you could just make out the pulsing band of Orion’s belt above you. You watched the twinkling of its light, a long past image that was just now reaching your eyes. A low voice with a sweet timbre interrupted your viewing.

“Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, Or loose the bands of Orion? Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season? Or canst thou guide Arcturus with his sons? Knowest thou the ordinances of heaven?”

You looked down from the sky, and towards the direction of the deep voice. Before you stood a man of stature that was almost identical to Caleb’s, though his looks were radically different. His face was striking, all sharp planes, with a regal, aquiline nose. A soft coif of hair that looked like it had been touched by the moonlight graced his head. But most startling of all were his eyes. They regarded you like the fresh well of blood from a razor’s cut, and they were the same color. You blinked at him, a little shocked by his appearance – and his lack of a toga. Instead, he wore an expensive looking silk black dress shirt and slacks, complete with a thick silver chain around his neck. 

“Mind if I smoke?”

You shook your head, admittedly a little struck by the stranger. Was he a student? He could almost pass for a professor, were it not for his presence at this party, and a certain playfulness about his eyes and mouth. You gestured to the railing next to you.

“Be my guest.”

He nodded, and pulled an expensive looking silver cigarette case from his pocket. It reflected the deep blue of the night sky like a mirror. The cigarettes inside were long and black, and he placed one between plush lips, lighting it with an engraved zippo. You squinted at the words. It read: 

‘WHEN I GO TO HELL

COME WITH ME.’

You watched with the unconcealed interest of someone who had been consuming alcohol, but he didn’t seem bothered in the least by your gaze. He glanced to you, and held the open case out to you. His long fingers dwarfed the metal box.

“Would you like one?”

You shook your head. You started to say No thanks, I quit, because you had. Your oral fixation needed working on still, though. Caleb had been supplying you dutifully with lollipops, gum, and toothpicks in lieu of cigarettes.  The alcohol, however,  had you feeling rather bold. It helped (or maybe it didn’t?) that he was smoking your brand. You plucked the lit cigarette from the man’s lips, and took a drag from it. The cloves were sweet on your tongue, and the nicotine rush hit you in a wave that was the perfect combination with your buzz. The man with the rubies for eyes regarded you curiously, his mouth turned up in a half smile. You handed the cigarette back to him, tilting your head. You found yourself smiling, finally able to relax.

“Thank youuu.” 

He put the cigarette back into his own mouth, and took a drag from it. He exhaled at the sky, in the direction of the stars, instead of offering any words in return. You eyeballed him. Something he had said when he made his strange, grand entrance tugged at your memory. Something from your comparative religion course, maybe? What was that?

“Were you quoting the Bible at me earlier?”

The man turned back towards you, the lit cigarette in between two of his fingers. The end of it glowed nearly the same color of his eyes. He flicked it, and nodded, once.

“Very astute, sweetie. It’s God mocking Job – or rather, man in general – for his ignorance and weakness. Can man ‘loose the pleiades?’ Change a wilting winter into a blossoming spring, with the sweet influences with beautiful rosettes? Can he break free from his chains of his own accord?” 

He sounded like something was funny, in a wistful, far away sort of way. You regarded the man levelly. From anyone else, you may have thought this sounded like a pretentious crock of pseudo-intellectual bullshit – but he seemed deeply genuine. Like there was something he wanted you to glean from this, to remember. It helped that he was devilishly handsome, too. Maybe it was the alcohol getting to you. But you couldn’t quite grasp it like you wanted to, so you just nodded. The man’s eyes drifted away from you, towards the direction you had come from.

“Speaking of chains,”

He pointed one slender finger towards the patio door. 

“You may want to rescue your brother from his. He seems to be having some trouble inside.”

A flurry of questions rose to your mind – how he knew your brother – or rather, Caleb, from where, and how, to name a few. But none of these seemed as pertinent as going to Caleb’s rescue. Whatever that meant. So you just picked the one burning at the forefront of your mind.

“You didn’t tell me your name.”

The man with the moon-touched hair crossed his legs, leaning back casually against the railing. He titled his head, offering you an otherworldly smile full of straight, white teeth.

“It’s Sylus. Sylus Qin.”

As you departed from your strange but handsome companion, you tossed back the last of your drink, and threw the empty cup into the nearby overflowing trash. You had a new mission: rescue Caleb from whatever sort of trouble he had gotten himself into. You were having a hard time imagining what that could possibly be, seeing as he was the sober one, and you were the mildly (or not so mildly) intoxicated one. Back inside, the party had grown from a too-tight gathering to a pulsating throng. You had to push and excuse-me-sorry your way through half naked people and men in togas, heading towards what you thought was the center of the commotion. You kept having to touch the bare skin of others as you moved, and you fought back the rising feeling of disgust, trying to focus on reaching Caleb. You would have crawled your way backwards through hell for him. This, surely, was nothing. Okay, maybe it was a little comparable.

It didn’t take you long to find him. He was centered in the living room of the party, surrounded on all sides by young men and women. You pushed through the circle, until you were just adjacent to him. One girl hung off of his arm – the arm that he had lost feeling in. The other was trying to push a drink in his hand. You felt yourself deflate at his expression. He was smiling from ear to ear, face flushed with exertion. He was politely rejecting the drink, saying something you couldn’t quite make out. The hand with the cup retracted, dejected. Your ears rang, watching the pretty hands of the girl curl around the scar on his right bicep. You stared, and stared. And stared.

“...squeak.”

“Pipsqueak!”

You snapped back into reality at the use of your nickname. Caleb was making the word with his mouth, gesturing for you to come closer. You approached him in a daze. The girl still clutched at his arm. She was pretty, with cascades of bright red knotless braids flowing down her back and shoulders, and big brown doe eyes. They looked good together. It occurred to you that the sex with Caleb could have meant nothing at all – and maybe that’s all he was interested in. It was possible to be interested in someone sexually and not romantically, after all. Maybe he had harbored one feeling, but not the other. Unlike you, who harbored both feelings for your brother. Truly fucked in the head, now on both levels. You offered the pretty girl a little smile, trying to school your face in a friendly expression. You weren’t that little girl who bit, screamed, and scratched Caleb anymore. You were an adult. An adult who could respect his choices.

The girl's voice reached you, directed at Caleb.

“Oh! Is this your little sister? She’s so cute!”

She sounded genuine, not disparaging at all. It made you feel even worse for wallowing in your jealousy. You looked at Caleb for direction. How should you answer? What role should you take tonight? Then, as you looked, watched the indecision on Caleb’s face, irritation replaced your jealousy. Why should you have to stand right where you want to be, and not have it? You shrugged.

“Dunno! His fingers were just inside me in the car. Who I am tonight, Caleb? Your girlfriend, or your little sister? Maybe both? Is that easier for you?”

Maybe you’d ruin his perfect reputation, right here, in front of everyone. Not many people seemed to hear you over the music and conversation, though.

The girl put a delicate hand over her mouth, and her eyebrows raised.

“Ooh,” she nudged Caleb. “What are you going to do?”

Caleb was scowling, now. That was better. His angry face was sexy. Maybe he’d finally ditch you – or take it out on you. Hopefully the latter. You felt like angry sex with Caleb would be really good. He leaned down and said something into the girl’s ear. She retracted her hand, nodding. She made a mock salute at Caleb, and winked at you. Seriously, what the fuck was their relationship?

“Good luck!”

Caleb started towards you, and in the middle of everyone, you were thrown unceremoniously over his shoulder, as if you were a sack of flour. He kept one hand on your ass, so that you wouldn’t expose yourself. You beat on his chest with your fists, and tried to protest – but his evol was holding your mouth shut. He ignored your physical protests, and people parted out of the way for him, looking down,  as he carried you up the stairs of the house. It seemed like everyone knew him – and by extension, you as well. Just another Tuesday – or whatever day it was. He turned abruptly into an unoccupied hallway, though people passed just beside it, and set you down to your feet on the carpet. His evol released your mouth.

“Caleb–!”

He put a finger to your lips, stopping you. He sniffed.

“Have you been smoking, pips?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. That was what he was worried about?

“Yeah. There was a hot guy outside who oh-so-kindly offered, while you were otherwise occupied.”

“A hot guy–?” Caleb stopped himself, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes slid shut, and he took a deep breath, like he was trying to collect himself. 

Caleb grasped your wrist, and pulled open the nearest room, tugging you into it. You hated the idea of entering someone’s bedroom unannounced without their permission, but it seemed wholly unoccupied, thankfully. He tugged off the sheet that was acting as his toga, tossing his belt and your hair clip aside along with it. The cap went, too. It left him only in his cargo shorts and boots. He gripped the back of your hair, and pushed you into a mean kiss without further warning, taking the breath away from any further words you could say. He pulled away from you, panting. The anger was still there, hot in his eyes. He kissed the side of your mouth.

“That was my friend, by the way. She was trying to rescue me from getting drinks poured down my throat,” he rasped, clearly still upset.

Then, as if thinking it through, he added in a tone that was all too serious:

“She’s also gay.”

Your anger immediately disappeared, and turned into laughter. At yourself, at the situation. The fact that he was explaining himself to you. You felt guilty, and you felt giddy. You wanted him more than ever. You wanted something in your mouth. You took his hand into yours, and held it up. Caleb watched you, clearly still reeling from everything that had just happened – but he still let you. You put the fingers into your mouth, closing your lips around them. You sucked, letting them reach near the back of your throat. You thought you were going to gag, but the alcohol had you feeling so relaxed that you didn’t. You looked at Caleb as you sucked. You saw his nostrils flare, his eyes trained on the place where you had him in your mouth. He palmed himself through his pants. His voice sounded rough when he spoke.

“You need something in your mouth that bad? Fine.”

He pulled you back from his fingers by your hair, and you watched, enraptured, as his big hands, one still wet from your saliva, unzipped his shorts. He pulled down his boxers, and his dick sprung free from them, slapping up against his stomach. You wondered, a little gleefully, how many times you had gotten him hard that day. This was exactly what you needed. You sank to your knees eagerly before him, and his familiar scent washed over you. You pressed your cheek against his leaking cock. Caleb groaned, tossing his head back against the door.

“Don’t go to anyone else to fill your mouth. Only me. Understand?”

He slapped your cheek with his dick, and rubbed the head against your lips, wetting them with his precum. You nodded against it, lips slipping over it. 

Caleb tugged open your bottom lip with his thumb, and pressed his dick against your teeth.

“That’s my good girl. Now open up and suck me off.”

You opened your lips, and took him in your mouth. There was absolutely no way in hell you were fitting most of him inside, so you took what you couldn’t fit in your hand, and used your spit to jerk him while you worked him with your tongue. His hips stuttered into your mouth, like he was trying everything in his power not to fuck your throat. You pulled off for a moment, licking the head of him, tonguing his slit. You committed the bitter taste of him to memory.

He watched you intently, big hand fisted in your hair, guiding you up and down. He was loud, too, little whines and groans spilling from his lips. His sounds only spurred you on. You could tell he was close with the way he was twitching in your mouth, and the way he was pulling on your hair. You were certain he was going to cum down your throat, but he suddenly hoisted to your feet by your armpits, and lifted your skirt, pulling down your underwear, just enough so that he could slide his dick between your legs, right against your pussy.

“Caleb–?”

He gripped you by your hips, sliding you up and down the length of his cock like you were a toy. 

“Fuck – saying my name – gonna make me –”

Caleb’s hips stuttered as he spoke, and he held your panties open with a finger, his dick against them, and came in hot ropes in the seat of them. His abdomen heaved as he rode out his orgasm. He stilled for only a moment to catch his breath, and then pulled your underwear right back up, pushing his cum against your pussy between them. You stared into his face, dumbfounded. Turned on. 

Caleb cupped your face delicately in his hands. The contrast of the feeling of his cum between your legs and his soft touch made you laugh, and Caleb let a smile fall over his face too. You squeezed one of his cheeks, making it go even more red than it already was.

“Meanie.”

Caleb scrunched up his nose at your treatment. He stuck his tongue out to the side, and tried to touch it to your hand. You dropped it so he couldn’t reach you. He grinned.

“Yeah. I’m a bad guy, huh? I just wanna mess you up all the time. Especially after you told me another guy was puttin’ something in your mouth. Well, now my cock’s been in your mouth, and my cum’s in your–” 

You put a hand over his mouth, hearing footsteps approaching in the hallway. There was a knocking at the door. Caleb’s eyes went wide, and then focused on something behind you. He took your hand from his mouth, and there was a succession of events so sudden that you had a hard time processing what exactly was happening.

First, there was a woosh as the window of the room came open. You smelled the night air before you saw it. Then, Caleb gathered the toga bundle in his hand, and made for the window. You watched, unable to believe what you were seeing, as he leapt through the open window. The movement reminded you of pole jumpers, the way he bent his body expertly through the space. You worried for just a moment, because you were on the second floor – and then you recalled that your brother could control gravity with his mind. Right.

As that thought struck you, you too were in the air, though you couldn’t see Caleb. You were whisked from the room and out the window, which shut loudly behind you. You felt like you might fall, your hands windmilling,  but instead you drifted into Caleb’s outstretched arms. The little sheet floated behind him, curled around the other items diligently. The window had opened up to a side lot, away from prying eyes. You stared into Caleb’s face, and he stared into yours. Then, both of you erupted into peals of laughter. Caleb doubled over, pressing his forehead against yours. His chest shook with the force of it. When he pulled away, he nearly started laughing all over again, and you saw tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. You wiped at them with your thumbs. Caleb looked very smug.

“Agent pip and Captain Caleb making a daring escape after sharing a heated encounter in public,” he narrated, like an announcer, voice a half-whisper.

“What will their next escapade entail? Tune in for the next episode and find out!”

You snorted, unable to keep the sound from coming out of you. It took great effort not to start laughing for real all over again.

“I’d like the next episode to be a little less action packed, if possible,” you mused.

Caleb nodded, and began walking you down the drive, and down the sidewalk in the direction of his frat. The sheet followed behind. You wondered what Gideon and Liam would think of all of this. They’d probably just support Caleb, like always.

“Noted. Next time I’ll draft out somethin’ significantly more relaxed. Or maybe it will be like, an alternate universe. I’ll be your trusty knight in shining armor, and you’ll be my princess. Oh wait,” he paused, and leaned down, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“You already are my princess.”

You reached up, and cupped his jaw, feeling his stubble there. His skin was still a little sweaty. Your buzz was starting to make you enter that half-sleepy, half-giggly state. You smirked at him.

“You’re the best big brother in the world. You always take care of me, even if you get mad at me sometimes. And your dick feels really good inside me, too.”

Caleb laughed softly, and shook his head. His violet eyes regarded you warmly, like the caress of the night air around your skin.

“I’m glad your big brother’s dick makes you feel good, baby. Don’t let anyone else but me hear you say that, though.”

You frowned, and kicked your legs. They dangled over one of Caleb’s strong arms, the leather of your boots creaking. Your calves were starting to ache. You would have to take those stupid boots off when you got home. Actually, you would have Caleb take them off for you. And you wouldn’t even have to ask. You remembered his cum in your underwear, and frowned even deeper. 

“Why? Are you ashamed to be my brother?”

Caleb shook his head again. He looked ahead instead of at you as he walked. You stared at the necklace glistening against the bare skin of his chest, illuminated only by the passing streetlights. Moths fluttered around them overhead, drawn to their illuminated doom. Somewhere, a lonesome dog barked, trapped behind a fence in a yard.

“No. Not at all. I just…maybe I want to be that and more.”

His voice trailed off towards the end, like he was unsure of himself. His cheeks and ears were pink again. You tugged on his necklace, examining the little ruby in the heart of the silver apple. It was just like you – nestled right in the middle of him, always. Your heart increased its pace at his words. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to feel hopeful. You ran your thumb over the small charm.

“More? You mean like, dating-more?”

Caleb exhaled through his nose, and then adjusted you in his arms, tossing you in the air a little, once, then twice. You knew he was playing with you. You gripped tighter around his neck, unable to keep from laughing. He laughed, too. The sounds of your combined happiness echoed off of the empty street and into the soft serenity of the night.

“This is a conversation for when you’re sober, pips. In the morning. Right now, all I want is to get you home and snuggled up in bed. Preferably next to me. So be a good girl and let me, yeah?”

You wanted to argue, but you knew he was right. He seemed more earnest than ever. You knew, instinctively, that he would be honest with you. You knew, because you knew him better than anyone else in the world. You were like that scar on his arm. He could never be rid of you, even if it still hurt sometimes. You’d let Caleb put you to bed. And in the morning, you’d wake up to a Caleb who told the whole truth, this time.

Tell Me Where The Piece Go, 'Cause I'm Lost

CHAPTER SUMMARY: all you and megumi do is argue. and he's happy to leave you to your own devices, but after he and Gojo have a few drinks together, Megumi's lips begin to loosen in regards to you.

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, drinking, pining, arguing, etc.

WORDS : 5k

notes : kinda obsessed with megumi here idk xo

       LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

—

Gojo pulls up outside of your house and you can barely bring yourself to even look at the place. The home you built with Yuuji. The memories that you shared there with him and the romance that has bloomed into something so beautiful. You’ve allowed Megumi Fushiguro, your bully, to defile the blossoms with a litany of weeds. Weeds you could no longer fight or get rid of. They’ve taken root and as Gojo’s words replay in your mind, you know those roots will continue to grow.

You hadn’t noticed Megumi has been staring at you through the rear-view mirror the whole journey. But his gaze is intently fixated on you when Gojo parks outside of your home. He's focusing on your facial features. He was trying his best to decipher what was going on in your mind and what your next move would be.

To his surprise, his eyes widen when you fling the car door open and rush up the stairs to your front door. The speed in which you leave the car makes Megumi’s jaw lower slightly, his mouth agape. He catches himself, though, after hearing Gojo clear his throat and realise what he's doing.

They both deduce from the way you're frantically searching for your keys that you're crying. Eyes filled with tears and causing the world around you to be nothing but a meaningless blur.

“You wanna go help her?” Gojo asks, almost too quietly. Megumi barely hears him, his words almost being beaten by the sounds of the birds tweeting in the trees.

“This is your fault, you know.” Megumi groans back in response, “For pushing her. Shoulda just dropped it, Gojo. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. Why are you tryna paint a picture of something that isn’t there?”

Gojo sucks air into his cheeks and puffs it back out of his pursed lips, a crass sound accompanying it. He pushes his little round shades up into his hair; his shimmering, worldly eyes boring into Megumi as he forces his surrogate son to stare into them. He’s searching, Megumi thinks, searching for a weak spot in his armour to point out any lies.

“Sure.” he smirks, leaning back into his seat and unbuckling his belt, “But that’s not what I asked. Are you gonna go help the poor girl? She even left her bags in the trunk.”

Megumi scowls, a quick ‘tch’ leaving his agitated lips before he steps out of the car. He slowly approaches you, your bag tossed to the ground whilst you sit on your doorstep curled up into a ball and crying. You don’t even notice him getting closer to you. One minute your world is an unclear smudge through your sodden lenses, the next moment you hear the chain of your purse rattle and a giant standing beside you rifling through it.

You wipe your tears away hurriedly, still not completely clearing them. From the low angle you’re sitting in, Megumi looks like a giant. He looks like Toji.

He tests a few keys in the hole before he finally finds the one that works, slotting it in perfectly and turning the handle. He pushes the door open for you, but walks in first. It’s not surprising that he doesn’t offer you a hand up. So soon after telling you he loves you in a drug induced stupor and he’s back to his old self.

You toss your keys onto the coffee table carelessly before crumpling down onto the couch. Megumi isn’t beside you, you didn’t even notice him in the kitchen when you walked by. You’re happy to never look at him again, if possible. But he emerges, eventually. A tall glass of water with a few ice cubes in his hand. He pushes a coaster from the coffee table closer to you and sets it down.

“Are you— uh… Do you need anything?” he asks, stammering over himself. He pinches the end of his nose again and again to scratch it as he waits for you to answer.

“You can’t even ask me, can you? Were you going to ask i-if I’m okay?” you question. His eyes go a little wide, but it’s barely perceptible to you. He pulls his lips into a straight line and grunts at the unintentionally rude question.

“I was. I decided I don’t care.” he replies defensively, and you can’t help but scoff.

“There it is. God. I’m such an idiot.” you tell him. You pull the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and dab the ball of your wrist into your eye as you try and dispel anymore tears eager to line your vision.

“There what is? Why would I care to ask when you’re obviously not okay? I don’t have a time machine, O’Keeffe, I can’t make last night go away. There’s nothing I can do. We did what we did so there’s no use fuckin’ crying over it.” he bites at you.

“Don’t you think I know that?” you raise your voice a little, your words getting caught in your throat as tears begin to stream down your cheeks and your lips swell from the pressure of your mouth pulling and stretching to allow you to sob loudly. “You’re so fucked up Megumi, you don’t even realise it. You’re beyond help.”

“Shut up. If you’re gonna turn to insults you know who’ll win. You’re already crying babe, won’t take much to push you over the edge.” he explains.

“What is wrong with you? Do you hear yourself?”

“You wanted me last night. You’ve got such a fucking victims mentality, that’s what I can’t stand about you. You’ve been a victim your whole life and now you’re turning on me because you regret what happened. Newsflash, I’m not thrilled about it either.” he informs you. You don’t respond right away, more interested in wiping away your tears for the time being.

“You can’t keep getting away with this…” you sigh, wiping your nose and sitting forward on the sofa as you consider your next words carefully. “There is something seriously wrong with you, Megumi. I’ve known you and your M.O. long enough now to know you wanted this to happen over the weekend.”

“Huh? Are you joking?”

“This would never have happened if you didn’t pressure me into doing coke!” you yell, breaking down into sobs as you linger on the memory a moment too long. “You convinced me and manipulated me into doing so many drugs I’m surprised I’m even alive to talk about it!”

“You’re so fucking dramatic!” he yells back at you, turning away to pace around the room and rake his fingers through his hair. “Look, this is only a big deal because you’re making it one. I’m not gonna say anything and Gojo won’t either. If you keep your big mouth shut—”

“You don’t get it,” you start, interrupting his strategy. “I am so in love with Yuuji. It’s unconditional and I don’t doubt for a minute that he loves me too. I’m not scared to be with him or worried he’s going to have a change of personality from one minute to the next like I do with you.”

“And?”

“And, I know he’d do anything and everything to make me happy. I know he wants to be with me forever… And I love him so much, Megumi.”

He grits his teeth and his face scrunches tensely as he registers what you’re telling him. But he knew that already. He knew all of that but he still can’t help the irritating feeling gnawing at his insides.

“What’s your point, O’Keeffe?”

“How am I meant to be with him for the rest of my life if I don’t tell him the truth?” you finish, lip wobbling and beginning to bawl into your sleeves again.

Megumi looks down at you like you’re nothing. Your tears and emotions mean nothing to him as he watches your heart shatter over the breakdown of your relationship. His lips are back to being in a tight line and his green eyes glower down at you. You’re not even looking at him and you can feel the way they are burning into you. He went against his better judgement to come in here and try to help you. And you repaid him by telling him how fucked up he is. He has no sympathy for you. None. Because last night, no matter what the circumstances were, you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you.

“I don’t care if you tell him. It’s you who’ll get dumped by the end of it, not me. Do what you want O’Keeffe.” he turns away to walk out of the door, but you can’t let him go like this. Like he’s won a game of chess rather than destroying your life.

“Megumi, wait.” you call to him. He stops in his tracks, and then finally turns to face you once more. “I— I shared my body with you last night, Megumi. I risked everything that makes me happy… for you.”

He sighs, looking down at the ground before looking back at you. You back away when you notice him getting closer to you. It’s slow, deliberately intimidating and you can’t bring yourself to move away quick enough. You remember standing upright one minute and then falling back down onto the couch the next. His body towering over you and caging you between his arms. Your faces so close to each other your noses almost touched.

“Said you were lonely, baby. Wanted me because you were missin’ Yuuji.” he tells you in hushed tones. The memory of your words comes rushing back as you relive the incident that has lead to the two of you being like this now. “Victims mentality. I had nothing to lose and I was horny, O’Keeffe. You wanted me, and you could have said no.”

“But I—”

“Use all the excuses you want, princess. You wanted me. And now, you’re playing the victim. Because now you realise what you’ve done, and that you’ve risked everything to have it. To have me.”

“Do you love me, Megumi? Last night—”

“Are you fucking serious?” he asks, a gruff and infuriated tone lacing his words. “Use the fucking internet and look up the effects of E. You are somethin’ else, really. I told you. I wanted to get off, and you didn’t want to be lonely.” he pulls away so quickly from you that he creates a breeze. The air makes your tear-soaked cheeks cold. Your loose hairs flow and follow him. Your eyes are lifeless. You can’t hide how dead inside you feel.

You risked your perfect relationship with Yuuji Itadori for a meaningless handjob with Megumi Fushiguro.

Your former, or maybe still current, bully.

He decides enough is enough, heading towards the front door and slamming it after himself. You hear the passenger side door slam quickly after, but you don’t hear the car pull away. You quickly take the opportunity to google the effects of ecstasy, curiosity getting the better of you. Although, you feel like you already have a good idea what it’s gonna say thanks to Megumi’s patronising response.

How you might feel: ‘loved up’

You are such a fool. You’re so embarrassed and you wish you’d never opened your mouth to ask such a stupid question.

Of course he doesn’t love you.

You don’t even want him to love you, but it at least would have given just cause for him to thrust all of this pain onto you. If he were jealous of Yuuji. If he was trying to break you up and wanted you for himself.

But, really, you could have been anyone. You were just… there. It was the right place and the right time for Megumi. But the wrong place and time for you.

There is a soft knock on the door and you jump to your feet. Gojo peers inside with a guilty looking smile, pushing the door open with his elbow to let himself in with your bags in tow.

“It’s just me.” he greets you.

You’re deflated once again, falling back into the sofa. But now, you’re done. You’re exhausted and you can’t take it anymore. You lie down and close your eyes. It might all be a bad dream. Maybe you can wake up and be in bed with Yuuji holding you close. You’d give anything to hear him whisper good morning to you right now. Anything at all to giggle and squirm as he begs to eat you out before you go to class.

“Is there anything I can do, sweetheart? Anything at all, you name it.” Gojo queries, hoping to coax you out of your depressive state.

“Please… just go.”

He sighs, placing down your bags and heading for the front door.

“You have my number. If you need anything please call. Even if it’s just a friendly ear.” he smiles. You look at him briefly before observing the way the ice cubes are moving in the drink that Megumi got you. Without another word, Gojo carefully closes the door behind him. And finally, finally, you hear the car pull away.

—

“Do you wanna—”

“No, Gojo, I don’t want to talk about it.” Megumi answers before his surrogate father can finish speaking. Gojo chuckles which irritates Megumi even more. “Stop laughing before I punch you.”

“I was actually going to ask if you’d like to go for a drink somewhere.”

Megumi’s body stiffens before exhaling a heavy sigh of relief. His cheeks are flushed pink with vague embarrassment and even he finds himself laughing a little. He nods, thinking the sound of something alcoholic sounds just fine.

“Leave the car at my place, I’ll ask my sister if she can take us.” Megumi insists. Gojo nods, agreeing with his idea. It definitely beats paying taxi fares.

Earlier, you mentioned Megumi being manipulative. And he isn’t ashamed to admit to himself that it’s true. He did manipulate you into doing drugs with him, but you did them nonetheless. And, somehow, manipulation is a skill of his that gets him through everyday life.

Like now, for instance.

Poor Tsumiki has been working all day, and she’s exhausted. But how could she deny her dear little brother a single thing in this life?

He barely walks in the door and he's already asking her to do things for him. She’s always so sweet and positive and it gets on Megumi’s fucking nerves.

And she can’t help but extend that kindness to Gojo when she sees him. She’s more than happy to drop her second father and beloved brother off wherever they need to go.

“Did you have fun on your trip, Megumi? I’m sorry I couldn’t get you.” Tsumiki breaks the silence in the car, eager to alleviate whatever tension is brewing inside.

“Not to worry, he was happy waiting for dad to pick him up. Weren’t you, Megumi?” Gojo grins in the backseat. Megumi cranes his neck to look back at him and scowl. “You know your brother, always finds a way to make fun for himself.”

“Is your classmate okay? Did they have fun? I felt so guilty when dad told me—”

“I’m fine. She’s fine. Drop it.”

Tsumiki feels her insides drop lower as she tries to determine whether she heard him right. She looks up into the rear-view mirror to meet Gojo’s eyes and then back to her brother.

“She? You were stranded with a girl?” she asks.

“Does it matter?” Megumi responds.

“Well, yeah! Kind of!” Tsumiki beams, doing her best to contain her excitement and be focused on the road. “I didn’t even know you made any friends at your new school, let alone a girl! And you shared a room with her? Oh my God!”

“Shut up. God I can’t fucking stand you, you’re so annoying.”

“Did you share a bed? Do you like her? Is she your girlfriend? Oh my God Megumi I’m so excited!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Megumi bites at her loudly, stunning her a little and retreating back into herself.

“W-What?”

“You know I’ve brought girls home before. You’re acting like I’m a fucking virgin who’s never even talked to a girl before. This isn’t a big deal, at all. Why is everyone acting like it’s such a big fucking deal?” he complains, his heart rate increasing and his breathing becoming louder and heavier.

“No, I know. I’ve complained a fair few times about the racket you make when you bring girls over, I know you’re not a virgin. But… as far as I’m aware I don’t think you’ve ever been friends with a girl before. I’m sorry, I got excited.” Tsumiki apologises meekly. The car is silent, again. One beat too many to keep it from being awkward. But finally, Megumi speaks.

“We’re not friends. It just… happened. It’s complicated.”

“People say shit like that when they’re in denial, you know. ‘It’s complicated.’ I think little Megumi is in love, Tsumiki.” Gojo smiles widely, such a cheesy and aggravating smile that takes up the majority of his face.

“Gojo, I swear to fucking God.” Megumi grimaces.

“Wait…” Tsumiki thinks, turning a corner in the car. She’s almost gotten them to their destination, but now the cogs are whirring in her mind and she doesn’t want this conversation to be over. “It’s the girl I met not that long ago, isn’t it?” she wondered. Megumi raises an eyebrow, obviously confused.

“The one who’s friends with dad. Yuuji’s girlfriend. Was it her?” she asks again. Megumi forces his eyes closed, as much as he could before looking out of the window and nodding. “Oh! Well, I’m sorry for prying. I didn’t realise.”

She turns the car back on track and heads towards the bar they want to be taken to. Megumi’s brows furrow in confusion, though he doesn’t speak or look at her directly. Instead, he side eyes her. Trying to read her process that lead her to dropping the topic entirely. She parks outside of the bar, smiling gleefully at her brother.

“I should have known you were just taking care of your best friend’s girlfriend! You’re such a good boy Megumi, I’m so proud of you.” she tells him, pinching his cheek like an overly adoring mother. Megumi’s eyes flutter shut as she tries to shut her words out and prevent himself from smiling or laughing. My God, Tsumiki is such an idiot. Although, ‘taking care’ of you is one way of putting what happened.

“Oh sweetheart…” Gojo sighs. Tsumiki turns back to look at him, confusion taking over her features. She cocks her head, prompting him to continue, but he doesn’t. “Nothing, thank you for the ride. C’mon Megumi.”

—

You haven’t moved from the couch in hours.

Since Gojo left, in fact.

You’d decompose here if you could.

But your bladder gets the better of you. You take the opportunity to get up and lock the front door and then go to pee afterwards. It’s so dark, now. Your eyes are swollen and puffy and you decide you should probably take yourself to bed. With your phone in one hand and your fluffy blanket in the other, you carry yourself up the stairs and into the second bedroom.

You aren’t sure if smelling Yuuji’s scent in your main room downstairs will make you feel better or worse.

And while you’re struggling to function normally. While your heart is decaying and you are finding it difficult to even turn the TV on for some background noise; Gojo and Megumi are having the time of their lives.

Gojo is on his fifth bottle of beer whilst Megumi has lost count. They are laughing, joking around and making memories that brutal hangovers will help them forget the following day.

They’re playing pool. Another hidden skill of Megumi’s. As Gojo takes a shot and accidentally pots the white ball, they both burst into a fit a laughter. Megumi picks up the white when it rolls through the table and lines up a shot he thinks will be perfect. And even if it isn’t, he gets two shots.

“I love Tsumiki,” Gojo smiles, wiping away a tear. “I can’t quite believe she managed to talk herself out of her suspicions.”

“She’s an idiot.” Megumi reminds him, potting the striped 13 ball seamlessly. He stands upright and changes his position, searching for his next target. “Stop talking about it. I’m still pissed about your pathetic little comment in the car.” he alerts him. Gojo’s relaxed pose turns steadier and more serious.

“Comment?”

“Forget it.” he responds, potting another ball. Striped 9. Gojo wracks his brain as he tries to remember what he said in the car. Something bothersome enough to make his son hold a grudge.

“Ah.” it comes back to him, but decides nothing more needs to be said. Megumi rolls his eyes and takes another shot, this time missing and potting Gojo’s solid 7 ball. Fuck. “Careful now… Going to form a habit of touching other people’s things.” he smirks, leaning over the table to try and take a shot of his own.

Megumi snarls but keeps his mouth shut. Gojo whistles and orders another two beers for the pair of them, noticing Megumi trying to slurp the dregs from his bottle to no avail. During the wait for their drinks, Gojo makes one shot and misses another. Megumi grabs his bottle hastily and drains the contents almost too quick to register. His Adam’s apple bobs as he downs the liquid in less than thirty seconds, and then he orders another.

“I’m a little worried about you, kiddo.” Gojo tells him. Megumi shakes his head, taking his next shot.

“Don’t.”

“I haven’t seen you in— We haven’t talked for— You’re a son to me, Megumi. I’m allowed to worry.” he finishes, taking a small sip of his beer.

“What do you want from me? Huh? To call you dad? Will you drop this conversation if I call you dad?” he slurs, staggering a little as he works his way around the table. “Okay dad. What do you wanna talk about dad?”

Gojo sighs, taking a bigger drink before setting it down and leaning against the pool table.

“It’s alright,” Gojo smiles.

“This fucking chick. I’m sick of her. Everyone’s in my business, no one cared about me before she came along and now everyone won’t leave me the fuck alone.” he explains. Gojo nods, wanting to display that he’s listening to him.

“There have been a lot of big changes in your life, Megumi. You moved back home. Toji is back. And your situation with this girl is clearly a heavy burden on your shoulders.” Gojo speaks as he chalks up his pool cue.

“Don’t even mention that bastard. I hate him and I hate her.”

“Megumi, try not to bite my head off but… Would you consider going back to therapy?” Gojo wonders. Megumi shakes his head and scoffs.

“Didn’t like it. Fuckin’ useless.” he announces. “And an- another thing about O’Keeffe, she’s just so perfect. Not, like, I think she’s perfec- perfect. But she thinks she is. Like she can’t do anything wrong. I hate her, I fucking hate her.”

“What happened today? When I wasn’t there.” Gojo wonders. Megumi’s eyes roll over white and he somehow manages to make his next shot despite him being able to see three white balls instead of one.

“She just blamed me for everything. Said it was my fault we hooked up even though she was crying about being lonely. Like… I mean…”

“What?”

“Okay, okay. Maybe it’s my fault. I got her to get high with me and she’s never— I don’t think she’s done drugs before? Can’t remember. Anyway. She went along with it. And we were both just… handjobs are nice, right? Fun and feels nice and getting to cum with someone is—”

“Keep it down Megumi.” Gojo warns him.

“What? Look, I could have fucked her but getting jerked off was enough, y’know? It was just nice. It was just really fucking nice and I liked it and I thought she liked it too. But n-now she’s worried about Yuuji and she’s pissed at me but she wanted it. I came, she came, and I thought it was all good a-and fine but she’s being a cunt now... and I hate her.”

“Do you… like her, Megumi?” Gojo probes.

“Are you— are you deaf? I said I hate her, you aren’t listening to me. I hate her.”

“But you’re upset that she’s mad at you.”

“Y-Yeah, so? Thought we were gonna be frien- fine. And she’s just making a big fuckin’ deal out of it. I just don’t… I don’t get it. It was nice.” Megumi rambles. Gojo nods again, knowing the conversation would be better if they were both sober. He’s making mental notes though. Making sure to lock away the information to discuss with him another time. “Like— Like her, tch. Dumb ass. Never even thought… For a second anything like that would happen between us. Especially after we kissed at her parents place and—”

“Back. It. Up. Cowboy. You hooked up before this?” Gojo interrupts.

“I— not really. We kissed. I kissed her. Dunno why, just felt like it. But she slapped me ‘n I just thought it was funny. Made her cheat on Yuuji and started keepin’ s-secrets.”

“Megumi…” Gojo sighs. “You felt like kissing her.”

“Yeah.”

“And you wanted to make her keep secrets from Yuuji… Something to eat away at their relationship.” Gojo continues. Megumi hiccups and his eyes squint. His body sways and the only balance he has is the pool cue between his fists keeping him upright.

“R-Right, so?” Megumi responds. Gojo smiles, gritting his teeth and it appears he’s more pained than joyous. He shrugs his shoulders and doesn’t say another word, hoping even in his drunken state that Megumi will connect the dots. Megumi’s body relaxes. He goes limp and the pool cue drops out of his hands. He falls backwards into the wall behind him and slides down until he’s sitting on the sticky flooring. Gojo rushes to him, crouching down on one knee and trying to get Megumi’s attention. “Oh fuck. Oh G-God. Gojo, n-no.” he stammers, not looking at Gojo but through him.

“It’s okay, Megumi. I’ll get us a cab and get us home.”

“N-No. Gojo, it’s not fucking alright. I like her, don’t I? I fucking l-like O’Keeffe. No no no, this isn’t right.” Megumi wrestles with himself. Gojo helps him up with one of his sons arms around his shoulders and leads him outside into the fresh air. “Gojo I— I don’t— like her, do I?”

“I think you do, kid.” Gojo grins earnestly, happy to get an admission out of Megumi. “Maybe even more than that.”

“W-What?” Megumi wonders aloud, a twinge of fear intertwined with his drunken speech, “Gojo… Do I— Do I love her?” Megumi asks. Like he’s asking his genuine advice as if Gojo knows Megumi’s feelings better than he does. It’s probably true. Despite his feelings being his own, he can’t connect with them. He can’t connect with himself.

“It seems that way. Either you’re in love with her or you’re falling there, that’s my guess.” Gojo tells him.

Megumi begins to shiver as the cool night air attacks him. Gojo keeps him upright and tries to pass along his body warmth to him as they wait for a taxi to pull up and collect them. Neither of them can believe how dark it is. Light morning sky turned to a black abyss and somehow neither of them have eaten or slept. Megumi has done nothing but drink since seeing you and it all feels like the same long day that you hooked up and argued about it. And now, out of nowhere, he’s found out he has feelings for you. Actual feelings. The type that people write songs about. The type that could potentially make you happy rather than terrified.

He likes you.

He might even love you.

“Fuck.”

—

You left Netflix running when you finally got the TV on. Final Space has been paused for a while since you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to press continue watching when it was prompted. You’ve been staring at your phone for hours. Your thumb hovering over Gojo’s name as you debated sending him a message.

Over and over again you scrolled through all of your contacts. A variety of people stood out but none of them that you wanted to call. You still had the numbers of people you had fallen out with and no longer talked to. There was one thing you wanted to do; and that thing was to scream. You felt desperate to let it all out, but there wasn’t a soul you could confide in.

The one person you did call, Toji, still wasn’t answering his calls or texts. It worries you that he isn’t responding, it’s so unlike him. You even contemplated calling your mother. But after last time you couldn’t think of a worse thing to do. You don’t need to give your parents any more ammunition to disparage you from your relationship and get into your head about doing what they want.

So, Gojo is all you have. But maybe you should just go to sleep and try to forget everything that has happened. Wash the day away from you and imagine yourself somewhere far away. Wherever Yuuji is, perhaps. But you can’t lock your phone screen. All you can do is stare at Gojo’s name. Your thumb venturing closer and closer to the phone icon. It’s out of your hands, now. You need to call him. You need to talk to somebody.

But as you’re about to press the button, your entire screen is filled with an incoming call. It shocks you. For some reason your phone isn’t on silent so the garish ringtone slices through your body like knives. You’re lucky your phone is somehow still in your hand and not smashed against your bedroom wall. You’re so fucking lucky. Luckier than you could have imagined being today. You press the green phone button so fast and bring the speaker to your ear.

“Yuuji?”

—

© 2025 rinhaler

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