Archive of Our Own

Caleb tosses his keys into the bowl on the entryway console, kicking off his sneakers in favor of his house slippers.

"Pips? Nainai? I'm home."

He makes his way to his room, dropping his duffel bag by his closet. His lips twist into a warm smile when you call back, your voice a welcomed reprieve after a long game of pick-up basketball with some of his old highschool friends—as he hadn't seen them since he'd left for university.

"Nainai's out, I think she went to meet some old friends? She said she won't be back 'till late."

Caleb raises his arms as he peels off his damp tank top, "What d'ya want for dinner then?"

"I already ate! Going out with some friends, so we grabbed an early dinner. There's extras for you in the microwave."

Caleb's eyebrows furrow, hearing nothing after "going out." Without even putting on a shirt, he strides out of his room toward the foot of your cracked bedroom door.

"Where are you going?"

His eyes widen when you appear in the opening of the wooden door, clearly dressed to go out—dressed to draw attention.

It definitely caught his attention, but then again that didn't take much effort on your part anymore. Ever, really.

It's impossible for his eyes not to wander, following the curve of your exposed throat and bare collar. The dress you wore had a fitted corset-like bodice that seemed to push everything up, putting you on display in ways that made him feel shameful—especially when he imagined how many other people would be blessed to see that same display tonight. It sat far above your knees, tight and leaving little to imagination—the milky expanse of your thighs hypnotizing him. As if it wasn't short enough, there was a slit on the side, taunting him with visions of what you might be wearing under—

"Caleb, where the hell are your clothes?"

You force yourself to look sideways as you snap at him, cheeks brighter than your carefully painted blush when you come face to face with Caleb's slick bare chest. He clears his throat, as if that'd physically shake the sinful thoughts out of him.

Of course, you'd seen him half-naked a handful of times—growing up together made that inevitable. But, maybe because he'd moved for college, it didn't feel natural anymore—like when you'd wander into the shared bathroom half asleep and he'd be brushing his teeth in nothing but his shorts.

For whatever reason, when it happened now, it made your cheeks burn and your chest tighten in a different, much more confusing, way.

"Where are yours?"

You raise a perfectly traced eyebrow at his question before looking down at your body, "What? I told you I'm going out."

Caleb's eyebrows crinkle, making his violet eyes look darker than usual, "Not like that, you're not."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing? Does it look bad?"

You seldom dressed up, but ever since you'd begun university you found yourself wanting to. Wanting to experience new things. Caleb had even teased you for being some big shot, learning to fly and leaving the nest.

"Wha—No. It doesn't look bad. That's not the point," he snaps quickly. He feels his cheeks burn, hoping it'd appear to just be post-workout flush.

Your head cocks with genuine confusion at his harsh tone. But before you can question him further, he's brushing past you, his clammy shoulder bumping against your bare one. He forcefully slides your closet door open, grabbing the first jacket he sees, and throwing it at you.

"Put on some actual clothes if you're gonna go out."

The cold waterproof material of the windbreaker hits your chest before your arms close over it—completely caught off guard by his behavior. As he fishes out more clothes from your wardrobe you stomp toward him and yank him away from your clothes.

"I'm not going to wear a jacket. It's summer—it's like 80 degrees out. Besides, it'll be hot inside the club too. I don't want to sweat my ass off."

Caleb looks at you, his expression unreadable. The club. His chest throbbed with inexplicable emotions, his ears ringing as you looked at him with that fiery defiant sparkle in your eyes. It only served to make you look all the more alluring, irresistible—in ways he'd been running from for years. In ways he'd denied all his life, ways that had been becoming increasingly difficult, impossible, for him to ignore.

Especially when you dressed like that. Like temptation incarnate, carefully and specifically crafted to make his life a living hell. To turn him from saint to sinner.

And the thought of you getting groped by some sweaty drunken asshole, looking like that, is more than he can bear.

"Wear it. Unless you want me to come with you," he snaps and pulls himself away from your grip, sifting through your closet once more.

"If it'll help you get that stick out of your ass, you're more than welcome to come. I'm sure some of my girl friends would be thrilled," you snap, your temper rising. You toss the jacket back at him—so forcefully that he instinctively uses his Evol to catch it before the metal zipper can hit his face.

"But I'm not changing."

Caleb sighs with exasperation, not backing down, "Well you sure as hell are not goin' out like that."

You gape at the definitive tone of his words that brooks no argument. If you'd had even an inkling of concession before, it dissipates into thin air leaving nothing but the mist of defiance and resentment behind.

Caleb sees the disbelief on your face, his own features softening in response, "Look, I know you're all grown up, that you don't need a babysitter. But if you're gonna dress like that—"

The condescension dripping from his words prompts you to cut him off, "Everyone dresses like this, Caleb! You can't expect me to dress like I'm in middle school forever!"

You found yourself getting emotional, voice trembling with frustration as you shout at him. You'd thought you looked okay, pretty even. And, even though he hadn't said anything, your confidence and excitement were dwindling like an oxygen deprived flame.

There's a venom in your tone that hits Caleb square in his chest. Perhaps, had he been around more, your hostility might not hurt him as much. But right now, it felt like a canyon had opened between the two of you and he was desperate to close the distance.

Unfortunately, that desperation manifested in the form of unyielding over-protectiveness.

"Okay. And?" Caleb sighs, doing his best to remain calm, "If everyone starts jumping off a cliff, are you gonna do that too?!"

"M-Maybe!" you yell without thinking, your voice rising, "If it means you'll stop babying me, then I will!"

The two of you stand there, just staring at each other as you fume, completely fed up by his behavior. Admittedly, Caleb had always been a touch overprotective—he'd frequently fussed over you when you went out with friends he hadn't met or stayed out too late. You'd never forget how difficult it was for you to convince him to let you go to your first high school party.

But it'd gotten exponentially worse ever since he'd left for university. You weren't sure what'd gotten into him.

As Caleb opens his mouth to speak, your phone goes off. You push past him to grab it from the charger on your nightstand, quickly reading the text from your friend that said they were waiting outside.

"I'm leaving. My ride's here," you say deceptively calmly, unplugging your phone and grabbing your purse off the dresser. You purposely knock your shoulder into him, like hitting him might make you feel better. It never did, even though he'd let you try with all your might—taking the pathetic wrath of your fists when you were so angry with him that you couldn't stop yourself.

You're unsurprised when Caleb stops you, fingers closing around your wrist firmly. He says your name sternly, laced with clear desperation and possession that he hopes you don't pick up on.

"Don't. Don't go."

People are like this sometimes. They know their words are irrational, yet they're unable to stop themselves from saying them.

You yank your wrist away so viciously Caleb stumbles backward from the sheer shock.

"Fuck you, Caleb."

"God fuckin' dammit."

Caleb swears as he pushes through a throng of giggling women, clearly drunk beyond belief. He rips his arm away, recoiling at the feeling of some random girl grabbing at him.

Where the hell were you?

It didn't take Caleb long, after the way you'd left things for him, to run after you. Of course you were long gone—but he'd easily been able to track your GPS location to the new club downtown.

He curses under his breath. Why had he even come? To apologize? To throw you over his shoulder and drag you home?

Truly, he had no idea. But he knew he would go fucking insane at home, not knowing what was happening to you. If you were safe, who you were with, if some drunk asshole had his hands all over you.

Especially knowing you'd grown quite the rebellious streak, seemingly doing things just to get a reaction out of him. And in this particular setting, there was no way he could sit by and wait for you to stumble home, drunk and vulnerable.

If you even came home at all.

His jaw clenches at the thought, pushing past another horde of inebriated club patrons.

He'd decide what he had come to do when he found you—saw you with his own eyes. Saw that nothing…unsavory was happening.

It was his job after all, as your big brother. Nothing more.

His eyes light up as he catches sight of you at the bar, drawn immediately to your sparkling smile—glimmering like stars under the pulsating lights from the stage. His relief is short-lived, quickly fizzling away as he watches you accept a drink from some man he doesn't recognize, who then wraps his arm around your waist, his fingers stroking the exposed skin of your hip.

It takes him less than a second to get to you, not giving a flying fuck about the dirty looks he gets from the people he haphazardly pushes aside.

"Hey pipsqueak, there you are," he says, alarmingly and threateningly cheerful. Even despite the deafening music, you instantly recognize that voice. And even drunk, you already know what game he's playing as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, yanking you away from the…friend you'd made.

"Caleb…" you warn, unable to stop yourself from slurring—which doesn't go unnoticed by him, evident by the way his grip around you tightens. Frustratingly enough, he ignores you, instead gently prying the cocktail out of your fingers and handing it back to the man you'd been entertaining.

"Appreciate it, but my girl doesn't like cocktails, isn't that right princess?" Caleb smiles at you before turning back to the nice man who'd offered to pay for your drinks, his grin turning a sickly sweet that exuded pure malice.

You sigh, knowing you're far better off letting Caleb get his way here than to correct him. You turn to the man, offering him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, he's right. My friends though," you gesture sloppily to the group of friends you'd come with, "Love them. I think they'd appreciate it—hic—more!"

The man gives you a skeptical look, clearly peeved at having wasted his time. He's about to speak, likely to tell Caleb to fuck off, but one single glance from your big brother has him rethinking his choices.

"U-Uh. Sure," he mutters, leaving reluctantly and taking his drink with him.

"Good man," Caleb grins, his twilight eyes following his back as he leaves, particularly fixated on his hands. Those hands had just been all over you. He should probably do something about that.

Later.

Right now, he needed to attend to you and the fury you were about to rain upon him.

Before you can turn around to wring his neck, Caleb grabs your wrists and tugs you forward, spinning you around. Your feet stumble, partly due to surprise but mostly due to your drunken state. Caleb catches you easily, scooping you against his chest and dipping down so he can whisper into your ear, necessary due to the deafening music.

"Who was that?"

Your already weakened knees wobble at the heat his breath spreads throughout your body as you pull away from him so you can look up at his face.

"You're so fucking annoying Caleb!" you snap. You were well-versed with Caleb's games—he seemed to revel in trying all the different ways he could ward men off of you. And, over the years, he'd discovered many.

Including pretending to be your boyfriend.

"What do you want? Did you come here just to scare off anyone I try to talk to? If so, you can fuck right off."

Even at your harsh words, Caleb can't help but see you as an adorable pouting duckling, the same one that followed him around all throughout his childhood—begging for his attention.

Except drunk and enticingly vulnerable—inviting the gaze of him, and everyone around him.

Caleb is infuriatingly gentle as he speaks to you, still needing to bend down to your level so you can hear him over the pounding bass of the club's speakers, "No. I came to apologize. You know I don't like it when you're upset with me."

Your crackly demeanor softens, replaced by a steady trail of goosebumps that form from Caleb's warmth. But still, you force yourself to remain steadfast—to not forgive him so easily, as you often did, "Okay. So apologize."

Caleb chuckles, amused by your drunken demands, "Will my favorite little sister forgive me for being a jerk earlier?"

Your eyes roll, and you curse yourself for the smile that you feel starting to form.

"A jerk is hardly how I'd describe it," you slur, tapping your chin and feigning deep thought.

He finds himself absolutely charmed by drunken you, "How would you describe it then?"

You know he has to talk into your ear so you can hear him over the music, but his proximity makes you giddy, "More like…a ginormous jackass. An asshole, really."

Caleb's arms tighten around you as a group of women stumble past, pushing you in their race to the bar. His arms, previously around your shoulder, had slipped to securely wrap around your waist, "Okay then. Will you forgive Gege for being a ginormous asshole?"

Your already heated cheeks flush deeper. It didn't help that he was so close to you, holding you tightly against the current of drunk people. You shake it off, offering him your best pleading pout.

"No. But buy me a drink and I'll reconsider."

Caleb tenses at that. He'd never liked the idea of you drinking. Of course, he'd assumed that when you entered university, where he couldn't watch and monitor your every move, that you'd indulge in these types of things. But seeing it, seeing his precious baby sister, firsthand was entirely different.

At least if you were going to drink, it should be with him.

"Fine, pips," he concedes, "Just one. Then I'm taking you home."

He turns to wave down the bartender, which forces him to unravel from you, much to his distaste. Quickly, he orders something he thinks you'll enjoy, brain already searching for another excuse to touch you.

"Make that two," you quip to the bartender, stumbling a bit as you turn toward the bar. You look at Caleb with a mischievous grin, "You're drinking with me."

When he raises an eyebrow at you, you add on before he can protest, "Come on! First you act like the world's biggest asshole. Then you came all this way, scare off my friend, derail my entire night. The least you can do is make sure I don't drink alone."

"Sooo, that was a friend?"

You scoff. Of course that's the only thing he'd hear.

"Yes," you say innocently, batting your eyelashes intentionally at him, "And seeing as I don't have him to drink with anymore, you'll have to do."

Caleb's knuckles turn white as he fiercely grips the glasses the bartender hands him. Just the mere thought of you accepting drinks from anyone but him was enough to send him into a blind fury. But he controls himself. For you.

"Yeah, well," he smiles charmingly at you, handing you the second glass of whatever colorful drink he's ordered, "Thank god for that, hm?"

You grin, gratefully taking the glass, wanting to push his buttons, "Yeah, thank god. He was getting a liiiitle handsy."

You squeak with surprise as Caleb pulls you closer, almost making you spill your drink on both of you. You feel someone brush behind you, some drunk stumbling toward the bar, Caleb's swift action pulling you out of their path. He catches you easily as you trip over your own feet.

"Was he now?"

The underlying threat in his tone makes you gulp nervously, simultaneously regretting your little antics and wanting to push him more.

"Yup," you purposely pop your lips, "So you'll have to fill in."

When you clink your glasses, Caleb raises an eyebrow at you, a mischievous glint in his nebulous eyes, "Fill in on…feeling you up? Scandalous, pipsqueak."

You choke just as you take a sip, wincing as the alcohol burns your nose. Caleb hadn't thought through his words as he'd said them, but your reaction makes it worth it. There was nothing better than seeing you so adorably flustered, the way your eyes widen with genuine embarrassment.

He grins delightedly, using his thumb to wipe a mix of saliva and cocktail from your chin, "'Ya'know, I don't drink that often but I think it's supposed to go into your mouth, not all over me."

"Shut up!" you swat his hand away, looking down, suddenly feeling light-headed from the alcohol, your chest and stomach feeling bubbly, "Focus on your own drink!"

Your quickly clink your glass to his for the second time, before downing the drink. It's surprisingly good, the fresh fruit juice masking the bitterness of the alcohol.

"Yeesh," Caleb sets the glass down, his face twisting slightly at the taste. He'd drank before, but he hadn't made a habit of it. In fact, he tended to avoid settings like this at the Academy, even despite constantly being invited—whether it was parties, small gatherings, or group outings. It just wasn't his scene.

His scene, of choice, was anywhere you were. So naturally, he had no reason to attend any of those things.

Of course, that meant he had a far lower alcohol tolerance than someone might expect for a man of his physique. He could already feel his cheeks flushing, mind reeling at the idea that you'd been drinking these all night.

"How many of these have you had?"

"Not e—hicc—nough," you grin at him, the straw still between your teeth as you turn to the bartender, "Could I get two more? Same thing, please!"

And that's how, several drinks later, Caleb found himself drunk—being dragged along with you into the crowd of inebriated grimy strangers, and onto the dance floor.

Even drunk, Caleb feels like he still has a good grip on his faculties—especially since he had to make sure to keep you safe and out of the arms of the plethora of men leering at you.

He bumps into you, his chest hitting your back, when you run into your friends and stop abruptly, deciding that this was the spot you wanted. He's a bit at a loss for words as he takes it all in, the club. These were the kinds of situations you'd been putting yourself in since he'd left. And he didn't like it one bit.

Caleb gives your friends a polite as they turn to him, focusing his attention back on you—not really interested in anything, or anyone, else.

"So this is what you've been up to since I left, huh?"

"What?!" you laugh, unable to hear him over the music. Despite his stormy disposition, Caleb can't help but smile, drawing you closer and dipping down to your level. His breath is warm against your neck, the faint scent of alcohol tickling your nose.

"I said, is this what you've been up to since I've been gone?"

Your knees inexplicably buckle at the warmth he spreads throughout your body, feeling the alcohol a little more than you'd thought you would—likely having one too many. Caleb's strong arms wrap securely around your waist.

"Easy, pips. I've got you," he murmurs, lips still at your ear. You can feel heat creeping up your entire body, turning your head around to make sure your friends didn't see…this.

Caleb gently grips your jaw, turning your face back to his.

"How much did you have to drink?" his tone takes on that authoritative protective brother lilt he so often used, "Before I showed up."

His eyes are glued to your lips, unable to fight off the dam of attraction the alcohol seems to have barreled through. In the back of his head, he knows he shouldn't be touching you like this, but he can't bring himself to stop. You're left speechless as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip, wiping away the remnants of alcohol.

Someone bumps into you, helping knock you out of your trance. Caleb looks over your shoulder, eyebrows furrowing into a glare as he reaches his arm out to push whoever it was away from you.

"I'm fine, Caleb," you slur, "You worry too much."

You force yourself to unravel Caleb's arms from around you, not wanting your friends to make any unwelcome judgements, feeling their eyes on you. You didn't think they'd care—in fact they'd forever been teasing you about Caleb. But still, you pull away. You miss his warmth instantly, but force yourself to stand beside him instead.

Caleb's fists clench at his sides, but he allows you to let go, "You're the one who makes me worry so much."

You grin at that, fully aware that your best talent was making his life more difficult than it needed to be, "Maaaaybe so. But you also could stand to relax a little. C'mon, dance!"

Caleb tenses at that, hating that your words echoed so loudly in his ears, making his chest tighten and breath quicken. But he forces a smile, following your lead and trying to enjoy the music and kaleidoscope of lights, and not the way you dance next to him—your body moving in ways that made his pants uncomfortably tight and his conscious guilty.

You sneak a glance to your left, heartbeat stuttering at Caleb's side profile—the way the ball of his throat bobs slightly, leading up to the sharp slant of his jaw. His damp hair sticks to his forehead, long eyelashes fluttering adorably in reaction to being tipsy. You found it incredibly endearing, not to mention hot, that such little alcohol could have him like…this.

It seemed your own thoughts had become uninhibited by the alcohol, because you found yourself thinking increasingly inappropriate thoughts about your big brother.

It'd always been…easy to rationalize your desires—you weren't related by blood, and who wouldn't have a crush on Caleb? Besides, he'd always felt like something more. Even if it was one-sided. Even if…it was all in your head.

You're so absorbed in your thoughts that you don't notice Caleb sneaking glances of his own at you. It's hard enough to stand as it is, but the sight of you gently swaying your body to the music had him wobbling from a different affliction altogether.

A ice cold wave of shame washes over him as he realizes how painfully hard he is, trying to readjust his pants discreetly—which isn't hard to do, seeing how the crowd is packed together like sardines.

Honestly, it'd been years, years, since he'd felt like this. Why couldn't he just get over it? This weird, unrequited, pathetic crush he had on his Meimei? It'd held him captive for as long as he can remember—made it so he could never quite breathe. Unless he was with you.

How long could he live like this?

"Oh!" you gasp as someone crashes into you, spilling sticky liquid against your exposed chest and into your eyes—making you yelp with pain. With little to no coordination, you nearly face plant. But instead of hitting the filthy club floor, you land against Caleb's warm and solid chest—his firm fingers gripping your waist. His thick bicep shoots in front of you to push the man away, with so much force it's obvious a certain Evol is involved.

"Watch it," Caleb snaps in a rare venomous voice that sent chills down your spine that's firm against his abdomen. The man who'd bumped into you quickly apologizes, wiping the spilt alcohol off your chest with his hands. You don't think too much of it, trying to reassure the man that it's okay, pushing his hands away.

You watch as his unsuspecting wrist is caught by Caleb's fingers, so tightly it elicits a pitiful groan from him.

"Don't put your hands on her."

You look back with surprise to find Caleb's face set in a chilling, unforgiving warning. The violet in his eyes have darkened to pools of near black, only illuminated by the club lights.

"Caleb, it's fine. It's just alcohol," you coax him, used to seeing Caleb like this—and knowing if you didn't diffuse the situation, it could escalate. In that Caleb way that was so much more terrifying than regular anger. Just silent, unspeakable malice.

It made your stomach flutter with a healthy bit of terror and an unhealthy amount of excitement.

Caleb doesn't acknowledge your words, and still not releasing the poor man's hand—jaw slack and deathly silent. It's not until you desperately place your hand on his chest that his eyes snap to yours and he instantly softens. He releases the offending hand, ignoring when the man feebly apologizes and scurries off like a cartoon character.

"Are you okay?" he murmurs into your ear so you can hear him, ignoring the curious concerned glances of your friends that now watch the way his arms have found their way around your waist again, tightening protectively.

"M'fine Caleb," you find yourself laughing, taking his hands into yours and raising them above your head, lightening the situation and exaggeratedly trying to get him to dance. Instead, Caleb pulls you back toward him by your joined fingers, then capturing your chin to get you to hold still.

"It got in your eyes," he whispers huskily, leaning dangerously closer. For a second you think he wants to kiss you, his eyelids drooping as they flicker down your face. And for the life of you…you can't pull away.

But then you flinch, feeling a cool gust of air against your burning eyeball, realizing Caleb is blowing into your eye like he'd do whenever you had something stuck in it. He chuckles as you squirm and pout, releasing your chin and spinning you back around to face the stage.

Your heart plummets in disappointment, so dazed you don't even notice the train of people cutting in front of you—causing you to nearly collide with them as you're about to put some distance between the two of you. Of course, Caleb's arm shoots in front of you, creating a physical barrier between the group and you. You can feel the cozy hum of his Evol as he seems to create a thin force field that pulses just inches from his body, keeping anyone from touching you again.

"I know you like to make me worry," he hums into your ear, breath tickling your sensitive neck, "But have some mercy on your poor Gege, hm?"

You ignore him, trying to calm the thunderous thumping of your heart, instead focusing on the music, trying to dance the intrusive thoughts away. You expect Caleb to release you, but he doesn't, still keeping his arms around but not on you—a sturdy shield of shorts, between you and anything or anyone that might be stupid enough to touch you.

Dancing wildly, your hair sways freely with the beat of the music. You're grateful for the way Caleb uses his arms to help you stay upright—but your unrestrained movements cause you to bump into them, which in turn causes him to gently enclose them around you.

For a few minutes, it feels innocent—just your brother standing behind you, making sure you don't make a fool of yourself, don't hurt yourself. You dance in front of him, the only point of contact between they two of you being his gentle palm against the small of your back the countless times you stumble into him.

But as you continue, your body continuously brushes against his in ways that are anything but innocent. You can't even fully admit that they're accidental—especially with how much you find yourself enjoying his touch.

Caleb's entire body tenses at your inadvertent grazes, your back to his chest and his arms lifted on either side of you to create a safe little cage for you to dance in. His muscles twitch with the insatiable urge to hold you, and he knows he can't keep it at bay much longer. It's like the universe is taunting him—the crowd continuously forcing you to inch closer together. He tries, he really tries, to keep a respectable distance away from you—stepping backward when you stumble into him, catching you innocently by your shoulders.

Eventually, he can't stop himself any longer.

Fuck it.

When you brush into him again, instead of letting go he simply circles his arms completely around your waist and rests his chin on the crown of your head. He can feel the way you freeze, and he swears under his breath—it sinking in that he's crossed a line that can't be uncrossed.

But you don't pull away with disgust—instead, you seem to melt into his body, leaning the back of your head against his chest. Caleb prays you can't feel his heart pounding against your skull, his fingers flexing and digging into the exposed skin on your waist.

"You okay, pips?" he murmurs into your head, his breath hot against your hair.

"Yeah," you gulp, not able to face him—ignoring the obvious, "You?"

"Perfect."

The two of you don't speak further, not willing to speak the obvious into existence and be forced to confront what was shifting between you.

It's innocent—albeit taboo. Caleb's hands remain perched on your stomach, not pushing or pulling. And your back leans into the warm security of his chest, slowing down your movement as to not create too much friction.

But the longer he holds you, the more you desire and the less you want to hold back. The fact that he won't let go of you, inhaling the scent of your hair every few minutes, makes you feel like what you're feeling isn't completely unrequited. And that alone gives you the confidence to be bolder.

Pretending to trip backward, you press deeper into Caleb, prompting him to hold you tighter. He wants to tease you, but he knew that'd backfire—he shouldn't be holding you like this, and he was in no position to be calling you out for anything.

And as you begin to dance fully on him, he found it impossible to form words anyways.

"C-Christ…" he mutters under his breath as your soft round ass presses against his crotch. Did you have any idea what you were doing to him? Were you even doing this on purpose?

He stutters your name with much effort, "We can't. Shouldn't."

"Can't what?" You feign innocence expertly, even as you tremble with excitement.

Caleb blinks in surprise, completely falling for your faux confusion. Was he really that disturbed, monstrous, that he'd thought this was more than it was? Than accidental touches between two siblings, non-blood related but family nonetheless?

He really was a monster.

"Nothing, let's just enjoy the music and go home," he says roughly, disappointed. You should feel bad, but his reaction only makes you smugger. You make your movements just a tiny bit more obvious, rolling your hips on his lap.

His face flushes with heat as his cock lurches, seeming to slot perfectly in the dip of your plush rear. He can't stop from bucking his hips, just slightly, pressing your stomach as he grinds against your body—happily passing it off as dancing.

You gasp at the feeling of his hot hard body, your hand instinctively coming behind you to grab him, gripping the back of his neck.

"Is…is this okay, princess?" he chokes. At this angle, when he looks down at you, he's met with the sight of your fluttering lashes and your lightly heaving chest, taunting him through the neckline of your dress.

"I-I think so," you whisper, your breath against his chin. He groans, eyes shutting as you sway your hips in time with the music. Forcing his eyes open, he looks down at you again, whispering your name desperately.

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asks, dark and animalistic—a warning as much as it is a question.

"No. Do you?"

"No fuckin' clue," he growls into your neck, "W-We shouldn't though. Right?"

"R-Right," you agree. But you don't move away.

Caleb's heart soars, his fingers moving and flexing as they hold your waist, subtly guiding your movements against him. He leans down so you can hear him.

"Then why aren't you moving, pipsqueak?"

You shudder at his warm breath, "Why aren't you, Caleb?"

He growls at your provocation, getting worked up by your scent, "I will. If that's what you want." Your feet stumble at his rough words, weakened by his intimate proximity.

"I've got you," he murmurs, lips brushing your ears, "Can't even stand up straight without me. "

"Y-Yeah. Thank you."

As if that would convince either of you that that's what he was doing—holding you upright.

For a few minutes, you don't speak. After all, if you did, you'd need to address the obvious. And neither of you were ready to pull away.

You dance fully against him now, in a way that makes him unable to stop the way his body reacts. He has, what he thinks is, the thickest most painful erection he's ever had—and it fits so damn perfectly against you.

What would it feel like to be inside of you?

His breath is short as he fights to control himself, "Okay pips, w-we really need to stop. Before I—"

He groans as you turn to face him, his cock now pressed against your stomach, the uncomfortable feeling of precum starting to soak through his boxers.

"We should," you agree, "But do you want me to?"

Caleb growls, hooking his arm tighter around you, making you gasp as he molds your body firmly with his. Screw it.

"Fuck no."

You rest your forearms on his shoulders, fingers playing with his hair as he takes the lead, guiding your movements against his body now. He had you pressed so tightly against him that not even a hair would fit between the two of you, his forehead resting on yours—faces dangerously close together.

Your body follows his effortlessly, pelvis rolling against his, your panties dampening as they continuously brushed against your hardened clit.

"Still okay?" he murmurs, removing one hand from your waist in favor of gathering up your hair, tucking loose strands behind your ear, still staring deeply into your eyes.

You gulp and nod, weaving your fingers into his and guiding his hand to gently cup your bare thigh, right where the slit of your dress. You slowly inch it higher and higher, until he was nearly palming your ass.

"Caleb…"

He groans at that, flexing his hips in a bid to reposition his painfully throbbing erection so it wasn't completely stabbing your stomach.

"What?" he croaks, "Don't say my name like that."

"Like what?" you murmur into his ear, the music becoming unbearably loud as the beat builds.

Caleb grips the back of your head, holding unbearably tight, "Like you don't know what it does to me. What you do to me."

Your eyes are fluttering in drunken anticipation, "What do I do to you, Caleb? Tell me."

At that, Caleb's jaw clenches and he grips your chin roughly, "Don't play with me like this. Unless you're ready for me to catch you.

"I've been ready for a long time."

Caleb's eyes widen for a split second before he acts. Time moves in slow motion when he tilts your chin up, pulling you closer and descending upon you like a relentless storm. He devours your moans as his lips slot against yours, fingers digging deep into your skin, struggling to control his desperation.

His tongue is smooth, demanding, as it traces the seam of your bottom lip. You can vaguely hear him moaning your name against your mouth, hiking your thigh up to his hip, nearly completely lifting you off the ground. He pulls away, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

"D-Do you have any idea…how long I've waited to do that?" he asks, uncharacteristically stuttering and breathless. His thumb traces your jaw, holding your face tenderly and looking down at you with eyes that make it difficult to think clearly.

"M-Me too, Caleb…" you admit, tiptoeing up so you can brush yours lips against his again. He growls, aggressively pressing into you and stealing another breathtaking kiss.

"Princess, I'm sorry. I-I can't stop…" he pants, eyes dark even as the bright lights flash in them. He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing painfully, shuddering as your palms lay flat against his chest, fingers tracing the planes of his thick muscles through his black shirt.

"Don't stop. Not now. Please, Ge."

Caleb hisses, burying his face into the curve of your neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your pheromones. His mouth waters, satiated only by the taste if your skin, lips exploring the delicate expanse of your shoulders, collar, and neck.

Satisfied with flowering bruises he's left there, he yanks your chin back to his. Just as your lips are about to meet, one of your friends excitedly grabs you while squealing your name.

"It's our song!"

You can't help but feel disappointed by the interruption, the ghost of Caleb's tongue still on your mouth. But you're grateful that your friend either doesn't notice what's happening between you and Caleb—or she's chosen to ignore it completely.

She wraps her arm around your shoulder, the pair of you singing along to the upbeat EDM song. It makes Caleb smile even despite the unwelcome interruption. His own hands remain on your waist, trying to maintain control as you once again begin throwing your ass against him, torturing him viciously.

Groaning, he reaches his hand further down until it slips under the hem of your dress, toying with the soft skin of your inner thighs. He delights in the way you freeze, stuttering as you sing with your friend—who hasn't seemed to notice anything amiss.

Placing his chin on the side of your shoulder opposite your friend, Caleb kisses your neck and hums lowly, "You look unbelievably beautiful tonight."

Your heart flutters and you can't help but turn your head towards him, resting it on his, "Really? I thought you didn't like what I was wearing."

"I like what you're wearing. What I don't like…" he trails off, fingers crawling up the sequins of the revealing dress, to the swell of your breasts, easily finding your nipples through it. Your eyes widen, subtly glancing to your right to check on your friend. Thankfully, she doesn't seem to notice anything.

"Is how it makes me feel."

He rocks his hips, trying to show you exactly what he means. You feel the unmistakable press of his bulge, and it makes you scarily aroused—emboldened. With one arm still around your friend, you reach the other behind you and gently brush against his massive bulge.

"Oh. This?"

Caleb hisses, knees buckling before he catches and composes himself, "Yes, that. You damn brat."

He can't hear your laugh over the music, but he can feel your body shake as you giggle delightedly. He kisses tauntingly down your ear, all the the way to your shoulders, "Besides, you're all covered up now, aren't you?"

Caleb's fingers close over your breasts, kneading his thumb against your puckered nipple—his strong forearms indeed covering much of your body as he holds you tightly against himself. You're grateful for the music, allowing you to cry out with pleasure without drawing anyone's attention but his.

The moment is exquisite. Caleb's hands playing with your tits, your hands over his swollen cock—all while surrounded by a sea of people. It makes your body all the more reactive as you sneak glances around to check that no one is watching the way your "brother" is feeling you up.

He laughs, breathing in your ear, sucking gently on your lobe, "God, you're perfect. So damn sensitive for me."

You whine, grateful when you friend unravels from you in favor of bouncing up to someone else she spotted in the crowd. You spin around, facing Caleb once more, stomach churning at how unfairly handsome he looks, the lights bouncing off his sweat-sheened skin and giving him a halo like glow.

"Touch me more, Caleb."

He groans, grabbing your jaw firmly—so forcefully it makes you tremble, and thumbs at your bottom lip. He croaks, "Just how much have you had to drink, Pips? Do you even know what you're asking for?"

You blink up at him, your eyes conveying exactly what you want from him, "I do. Will you give it to me, Gege?"

Taking his thumb into your mouth—you suck gently, watching with satisfaction at the way his eyes darken into black pools of desire. He watches with a deep twisted arousal as you suck his finger, realizing the depth of his desire for you.

He was fucked. Damned to eternity in hell.

"Turn around, baby."

He spins you around himself and hugs you from behind. The sudden movement makes your head spin, still quite drunk, and definitely reeling from his words. Baby.

Caleb palms your thigh again, his entire hand slipping beneath your dress and finding the edge of your soaked panties, tracing it with a trembling finger.

"Is this alright?" Caleb asks roughly, knowing how devastated he'd be if you answered no.

Luckily, you nod eagerly, covering his hand with yours. Slowly and gently, you guide in deeper—conveying the depth of your consent.

He uses his knuckle to tease the sensitive seam of your dripping lips through your sheer panties, whispering huskily into your ear, "God, if we were at home…D'you know what I'd do to you?"

You lean backward so your hazy eyes can meet his, chest heaving with exertion, "Why does it have to be at home?"

Caleb freezes before swallowing thickly—looking around, fully contemplating giving into what you're suggesting, "T-The hell's gotten into you? Don't tempt me like that."

"No one will see. it's packed. I can't even see my own feet. Gege, please."

Caleb curses, loud enough for you to hear even over the music, his entire body trembling with excitement and restraint.

"Pipsqueak…are you sure? I…I can't go back. I can't go back to what we were. Not after this."

You nod, the back of your head against his shoulder still, "Who said anything about going back?"

"Do you know how long I've wanted this? Wanted you?" he rasps, fingers trembling with the restraint it takes not to yank your panties off and enter your warmth—never leaving ever again. "Once I start I can't stop. Are you ready for that?"

"What makes you think I'll want to stop?" you quip, not backing down.

With a pained growl, Caleb kisses you again. This time his tongue enters your mouth instantly—all shred of hesitancy gone as he ravages you, showing you just how badly he wants you. Want to kiss you, consume you, own you.

He smiles smugly against your lips when you all but collapse at the feeling of his fingers invading your most intimate space, pushing your panties to the side and pressing softly against your clit. You try to pull away to gasp for air, but he holds you in place, not willing to let you go yet. It's too much, in the best way possible—the way he literally takes and gives you breath, the way his fingers spread you open, expertly playing with your clit before penetrating you.

All you'd ever wanted was to be his.

"God, you're so tight baby," he snarls, "Gonna snap my damn finger off."

"C-Caleb," you gasp, trying to speak over the music. You wobble, eyes darting around nervously to make sure no one can see what's happening—his forearm fully up your dress now. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe your big brother is simply more skilled with his fingers than you could ever fathom, but just a few languid pumps has your body coiling to explode.

"Don't tell me you're gettin' shy now," Caleb chuckles at your adorably nervous fidgeting, making sure to pull down your dress where his arm is buried, unwilling to let anyone see what was his, "Don't worry baby, I've got you."

Your bodies roll together like fluid, molded together in a sensual dance of sin, temptation, and longing. He's knuckle deep inside of you now, fingering as he grips you possessively against himself, swaying you to the beat of the electronic music pulsing around you.

Caleb's larger body shields you—absolutely unwilling to let anyone have a glimpse of his beautiful Meimei—that if anyone looked over, all they'd see is two people dancing very suggestively. Filthily, even.

"So fucking good," you mewl, gripping the back of his neck painfully, "I-Imagined this so many times."

Caleb's mouth waters as he does his best to remain upright, "Fuck princess…Me too. You have no idea."

His affirmation makes your stomach flutter, body clenching in excitement at that thought. Caleb groans, bucking into the palm your still have against his cock—wanting more.

"You get tighter when I praise you, y'know that?" he grunts, holding you firmly in place as he fingers you, all while humping up against your perfect backside.

"D-Do not," you pant, "Get over y-yourself."

Caleb's chest rumbles as he laughs, using his thumb and index finger to pinch your clit while his middle finger stays buried inside of you. He delights in your yelp, gently nibbling against your sensitive neck.

"Sure that's what you want, princess? I'd much rather get inside something instead."

He grins against your hair as he teases you, thoroughly enjoying how flustered he can render you. Of course, he wants exactly what he's saying. But he's joking more than anything—given your current surroundings. So when you turn around, eyes wide with sincerity and lust, he forgets how to breathe. Especially with your next three words.

"Do it then."

Caleb's eyes widen, Adam's apple bobbing thickly and eyes quickly finding all possible exits, "Fuck, are you serious?"

You tip toe up, taking his face into your hands and kissing him fiercely. He moans into your lips, free arm wrapping desperately around you, touching you everywhere as your tongues tangle in a frantic dance—his finger plunging back inside of you.

"Would I joke about this?"

He croaks, entire being completely on fire, "Maybe. You love to make your poor Gege suffer."

Not giving you a chance to retort, he grabs your wrist, already starting to make his way out of the crowd.

"Fuck I need more of you," he growls, dragging you through the crowd while make sure no one bumps into you, "Shit—not the bathroom…"

His thoughts swirl tumultuously as the impatience and anticipation steadily devours him. He wanted you now. But he was also unwilling to press you up against some disgusting bar bathroom wall. You deserved far better.

You tug back on his arm, body painfully on fire as you realize you're unwilling to wait, "Caleb…"

He turns back to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and drawing you closer—shooting a terrifying glare at someone who'd brushed against you, misreading your distress entirely, "Sorry princess, c'mere. Let's g—"

"N-No. I don't want to go."

Caleb's face softens, hiding his disappointment expertly, "Oh. 'Course. Sorry. Got ahead of myself."

But it's short-lived when you jam your body back against his, fervently mashing your lips into his. Your teeth lightly knock into his, but he couldn't care less, not when you're rutting the soft mound of your pussy against him.

He grips your waist and, with enormous effort, pulls away and panting your name, "God you better stop that before I take you right fucking here."

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, "Why don't you? No one would suspect a thing."

Caleb growls at the thought of that, bending down and nipping at your ears in warning, "Because the first time I get to be inside you it's not going to be in a crowd of drunk idiots. I can't spread you open—taste you—properly. Not here"

Your stomach coils at his words. The way he looks at you, touches you, caresses you—you know waiting isn't an option. So you do what you do best.

Caleb lets out a string of inexplicable curses as he watches you pout up at him, eyes fluttering and cheeks puffing out. You lean your cheek on his chest, still looking at him through your lashes—and he knows he's lost before the battle's even begun.

"Ge…"

You don't even have the chance to get your manipulative purrs out, Caleb cuts you off, "God, j-just—"

He roughly grabs your face in both of his hands, kissing you ferociously. Pulling away, your combined spit trailing from his lips, he spins you around—forcing you to look ahead, deciding here will have to do. Your heart hammers when you feel movement against your ass, realizing Caleb is unbuckling his belt.

"Is this what you wanted?" he whispers roughly into your ear as holds you in place, "You want Gege to fuck you so bad you can't even wait until we get home?"

Your writhe and gasp at the feeling of his hard length, hot and damp, against your bare skin. You hadn't even noticed he'd pulled the back of your dress up, giving him access to you. He lifts your panties up with a finger, pushing his cock beneath them and thrusting into them— rutting against your panties.

"C-Caleb please. C-Can't wait anymore."

He continues thrusting against your ass, slicked with precum, easily sliding into your cheeks. His tip pushes against the soaked fabric of your panties with every movement, threatening to burst through. It reminded him of all the times he'd had to wash your laundry, your intimates, ashamedly stuffing a select few into his pockets. In fact, he probably still had those garments hidden under his pillow at the Academy dorm.

And now…he was here. With you.

"I want to be inside of you so bad," he groans into your ear, yet still not putting it in.

"I-I want that too, so just put it in," you whine. Your desperation only makes Caleb harder—knowing you want this just as much as he does.

He's mesmerized by the sight of his cock bulging through your lace panties as he continues to rut into you, the club's pulsing lights making the sight all the more hypnotic.

"Focus on the music, pips. Isn't this one of your favorite songs?" he kisses your neck, enjoying your adorable pleas—using it as fuel to retrain himself. So he can savor you.

"I-It is but—" you let out a squeal, covered by the music, as Caleb's lengthy finger finds your slit and dips in, sliding up and down so that he teases your entrance all while stimulating your clit.

"God, I'm one lucky bastard," he bites into your shoulder, "You're drippin' all over my fingers, baby."

Your knees buckle, choking on your own spit as Caleb continues to tease you, "Gege, please."

Caleb growls into your neck, "You know I hate it when you do that."

"Nnngh…you l-love when I call you that."

"Maybe I do. But I don't love how you knowingly unravel me with just one word," he sucks roughly at your neck, as if punishing you with pleasure.

You moan unabashedly, toes curling in your heels with anticipation as you feel him lining himself up with you. He gently moves your panties, now soaked and ruined with his precum, and parts your lips for him, eliciting a whine from you at the exposure.

"God, look at that…" he whistles lowly as he admires you, making you sure you hear him even over the deafening music, "So fucking beautiful."

You whimper as you feel him spit on your cunt—warm, wet, and lewd. His mouth, previously dry from the alcohol, waters at the sight of you bared before him. His thick strong arms wrap around you, blocking this sight from anyone eyes that did not belong to him.

"Ready, princess?"

His cockhead looks so damn big nestled against you that it makes Caleb's knees weak. He scoops you toward him, his forearm locked around your chest, your spine arching deeply into him. His fat tip is wedged between your lips, making you uncontrollably clench—beckoning, begging him to fuck you.

"C-Condom?" you pant, using your last vestiges of reason.

Caleb lets out, what sounds like, a snarl at the thought.

"Didn't bring one," he groans simply, "But I'm not stoppin' now."

His voice has taken on that tone he so expertly uses when he's dead set on something, Embarrassingly enough, your knees wobble in arousal. His rough words, the thought of having him raw inside of you. It terrifies you as much as it excites you.

Or maybe, it terrifies you how much it excites you.

"Aren't you the one who begged not to wait until we got home?" he snarls, "To fuck you right here?"

"But, I-I…" you groan as he starts to push into you, eyes clenching shut as you feel how big he is, bigger than anything you'd ever imagined. To feel that bare inside you?

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you're simply not as smart as you'd always believed yourself to be. But you can't, don't want to, say no.

"No buts," he growls, chest heaving against your back, "Don't make me stop now, pipsqueak. I can't."

Caleb is so far gone that he doesn't even stop to think about how you might react to his demands. He pushes deeper, trying to pop his engorged head inside of your unbelievably tight entrance.

"Waait," you moan weakly, not convincing even yourself, "Caleb, I-I'm not on—"

Caleb roughly grabs your chin, forcing your neck around so he can devour your words with his lips. You gasp at the invasion, trying your best to keep up with his enthusiasm.

"Not on what? Birth control? I know," he growls, pushing against you further—almost inside of you. Your eyes widen, briefly wondering how he knew that—stomach fluttering with intrigue. Perhaps you should question him more, but all you can think about is the fact that he's fully aware and still refuses to stop.

God that turned you on more than anything he'd done tonight.

"Fuck, did you just tighten up?" he groans, "What, does the idea of me putting a baby in you turn you on?"

You whine and heat up with embarrassment and arousal as he exposes you. Against your better judgement, you nod eagerly, trying to push against him and envelope him fully. He gently sweeps up your hair, moving it to one side. The lights bounce off your perfect shining skin, his lips dipping down to kiss your pulse—shuddering to the end of his fraying rope.

"Gege always gives you everything you want, right?"

Caleb times himself perfectly with the music, thrusting into you as the song climaxes and the stage explodes with fire and light—so that your scream is audible only to him.

You must be unbelievably wet, with your own arousal and his saliva, because the combined motion of his hips thrusting and his arms pulling you toward his body drives his cock fully into you—his pelvis slapping against your ass. The motion is so forceful and intense that your dress rides up fully and Caleb has to quickly pull your dress back down, before anyone can see you.

"Fuck—Caleb!" you squeal, knees completely giving out. With all the buildup of the night, your fight, the innocent looks, the accidental touches, his possessive protectiveness, the less than PG-13 dancing—all culminating into this, your body instantly explodes. All the tension, the longing, the way he'd been fingering and kissing you, your body is putty in his hands—cumming as soon as he buries himself fully into you.

Caleb grunts roughly, his fingers bruising your skin as your walls milk him—forcing himself not to cum with you. Which is no easy feat, considering how perfect your wet warm gummy cunt was and how badly he wanted this, how long he'd waited.

"Hah—fuck, princess…" he growls against your neck, shuddering with pleasure, "No way you jus' came. You're fucking killing me."

You're at a loss for words, eyes squeezed shut as your mouth opens and closes inaudibly—struggling to speak. You feel Caleb's fingers between your legs, catching moisture that seems to drip down like a leaking faucet. Realizing he's catching your cum before it drips onto the ground, you blush and find your voice.

"Caleb, don't. Just let it…s'embarrassing."

He chuckles darkly, "You wouldn't let me take you home to taste you properly. This will have to hold me over until then."

His words do nothing to help your weakened knees, only making you tighten more with arousal. He quickly cleans his fingers with his mouth before pulling out of you, only to push back in. You squeal, body seizing at how sensitive your walls are to his invading girth, nearly doubling over.

"That's it baby. Jus' like that. You took it all," he coos, hoping his gentle praises will ease your sensitivity , "G-God loosen up a bit, please—Christ."

He forces himself to pull back, groaning at your body's refusal to let him go, still quivering from your orgasm. Your eyes go wide as his slower, more controlled, movements ensure you feel every inch of him. And there were many.

"Mmmngh—oh God. W-Wait, jus' came. I c-can't—!" you cry, caught between begging for more and asking him to slow down. You seem to have lost all sense of where you are, because an endless string of pleasured filthy mewls continuously escape your kiss-bitten lips. Caleb hears your cries but ignores your request, instead continuing to whisper syrupy praises into your ear.

"Big, s-so big," you choke as he thrusts back into you, supporting you with his arms still. Caleb growls into your hair, breathing in the scent of your sweat and pheromones like it's his lifeline.

"Is it? But you're taking it perfectly, princess," he throws head back, sweat slickened bangs falling backward, "Mmnn—f-fuck, always knew you'd be perfect for me. Jus' fucking knew it."

Unable to speak, you continue to expel filthy mewls that are consumed by the music. Your hand tightly grips the back of Caleb's neck, refusing to let him pull away—except for the slight space he needs to pull his cock out and shove it back into you. Resting your head on his shoulder, your lashes flutter up at him, looking at him with eyes that make him unable to think.

"Caleb…" you slur, still a bit drunk but mostly disorientated from your orgasm. He looks down at you, the passionate animalistic energy slipping as he gently kisses your temple.

"Mmmnn…" you moan, wobbling on your heels at his tender affection, "I-I need you s'bad Caleb. Always—hah—have."

Caleb growls your name, driving into you harder, his tip hitting your cervix painfully as those words hit his ears. You swear you can feel him throb, maybe even swelling further. If that was even possible.

"Do you know how often I thought about this?"

Your heart flutters, and you tease him—wanting to hear him say the words you'd always wanted him to, "Mnnghh—Thought about what?"

He seems immune to your teasing, immersed fully in absolute bliss. He wasn't embarrassed of this. Not anymore.

"This. You. Being inside of you."

Your moans grow particularly louder as Caleb starts to fondle you, one hand on your clit and the other practically ripping your dress off—kneading your breast hungrily. If not for the setting, it'd be a disaster how loud and wet the sound of his body pounding into yours is, sure to draw attention. Your body seems to have recovered from your orgasm at record speed, gripping hungrily onto his cock as it presses deeply into you—already demanding more.

You were so unbelievably greedy for him. He could feel it and it drive him insane.

"Heaven," he chokes out, "You—hah—feel like fucking heaven. Paradise."

"P-Paradise?" you moan with a sly grin, "That good, hm?"

He growls playfully, "Not just good. Fucking perfect. Everything I've ever wanted."

You giggle, body on fire and feeling unbearably happy. The pretty lights hypnotize you and you find yourself half-dancing, grinding against him as he ruts into your ass. Caleb is quickly hypnotized by the sight, eyes transfixed between your bodies.

"God, I always knew your pussy would be fucking perfect. S'like you were made for me."

His hand grips your throat, pulling you tighter against himself. You can feel his movements getting infinitesimally sloppier, his grip on you growing more uncontrolled. As he starts to ramble roughly into your ear, fingers leaving bruises everywhere—even the most shameful visible places, you can tell he's close to coming undone. You can't imagine him allowing himself to lose this much control for any other reason.

And you're desperate to feel him cum for you, especially as you feel yourself drawing closer to release, once again. And this time, you refused to cum alone.

"I-I am," you gasp, pulling his face closer, already knowing what to say to ensure you get what you want.

"Haah, sh-shit…You're what?" he huffs, having a hard time thinking clearly quickly as you look at him like that.

"M-Made for Gege's cock."

Caleb's eyes widen with surprise and his hips stutter. But he recollects himself quickly, snarling and forcefully taking your lips into his, tongue quickly claiming yours in an act that is nothing short of pure unfiltered possession. He barely lets you pull away to breathe, a look of pure satisfaction in his eyes as he watches how flustered you've become, even after your bold statement.

"Yeah? Were you?"

You moan as his rhythm grows more intense, nails digging into his forearms as you held on for dear life. He holds you in place as the crowd shifts, nearly causing you to trip, keeping you upright and willing victim to his relentless cock. There's a swift pinch to your clit when you don't respond.

"Don't go silent on me know," he demands roughly, silencing your scream with his tongue, "Tell me. Say it again."

"W-Was made for you—!" you whine, completely being supported by Caleb, your legs completely useless now. Caleb grunts, his sweat beading down his temple, a dangerous sparkle in his amethyst eyes.

"No. Say it right."

He punishes you, or rather encourages you, with a poignant thrust. You yelp, giving in instantly. There was quite literally no fighting against him, not when he had you feeling like this, "O-Oh—nngh…! I-I was—mnngh—made for Gege's cock!"

Caleb grins triumphantly, "That's right, princess. Mine."

He hoists you completely upright against himself, breath hot in your ear.

"And now you're going to take all of Gege's cum like a good girl, hm?"

At your brink, your stomach churns with excitement and desire. The small logical part of you knows you should protest—but even that tiny part of you doesn't want to. You nod weakly, becoming incoherent once more as every nerve in your body coils with tension that needs to release.

Caleb growls with his own twisted excitement, once again forcing you to crane your neck toward him, "Look at me, baby."

You look at him through your eyelashes, hardly able to even do that. His thumb brushes across your lip, grunting in his last final few thrusts.

"Hah—N-Need to see you when I cum."

His cock lurches as the two of you stare deeply into one another. He was actually inside of you, actually about to finish in your perfect little pussy. His precious Meimei—the one he'd done everything in his power to keep away from situations like this his entire life.

And yet, here he was. Taking you for himself.

But then again, he knew. You'd always been his.

The intensity in his eyes, twinkling like the nebulous galaxies above, would've been enough to make you come undone alone. But of course, his cockhead has found every sensitive spot inside your gummy walls, all while his fingers touch you everywhere possible, landing decisively on your chest. Physically being able to feel your thrumming heart, all while thumbing at your half-exposed nipple—it's all too much for him.

"Dammit, I'm close," he moans, "Fuck—I don't want to cum yet. C-Can't let this end."

Your heart flutters at his adorable desperation. In fact, it pushes you that much closer to your inevitable climax.

"Cumming, Caleb," you gasp for air, eyes rolling back as the pleasure rolls in like the violent waves of a high-tide, "W-Wan' to cum with you. Please."

Caleb tenses, entire body seizing as your words force him into the violent arms of his own climax, "Christ, please. Go easy on me—fuck!"

Your eyes roll back, "G-Gege…Please. N-Need your cum s'bad. Need you."

Caleb lets out a filthy tortured groan, burying his face into your neck as he finally explodes inside of you, painting you with his warm milky essence—unable to hold back when you beg like that.

"Fuuuck, you want it, baby? Take it then. Take it all."

He doesn't stop thrusting even amidst his mind-numbing orgasm, fucking it deeper inside of you. It's endless, what feels like years worth of pent up desire releasing all at once—especially when your walls force everything he has out of him as he rambles filthy praises.

"Baby…" he whispers into your ear. While he's still rocking into you, small spurts of seed still leaking into you, the intense fog in his head seems to start clearing. The music grows louder as the ringing in his ears stop, post-orgasmic clarity settling in.

"Caleb," you choke, unable to support yourself. Cum drips down your trembling thighs, a mix of yours and his, as your entire body quakes almost as violently as the music.

He holds you steady as the crowd goes wild from something the DJ must've said, holding you tightly away from harm's reach—or anyone else's reach for that matter. You try to get your legs to function, knees wobbling like a baby dear. Caleb hisses as you squirm, painfully squeezing more seed out of him.

He's filled with an unrelenting feeling of possession as he beholds you—beautifully disheveled, skin glowing against the neon lights, looking up at him with those gorgeous fucked-out eyes and kiss-bitten lips.

You were his. And he'd never let anyone change that.

Not even you.

He's drawn out of his dark thoughts when you stumble, instantly snapping aggressively as someone backs up into you, "Watch it."

You giggle at the juxtaposition of his overprotective aggression and the way his voice still wobbles from being inside of you. Like a hostile puppy.

The man twists around to, presumably, pick a fight. But one look at Caleb turns his face pale, before turning bright pink as his gaze snaps to you. Caleb tenses, arms tightening around you, subtly using his fingers to tug the hem of your dress down. Luckily, the man scurries off without so much as another word.

It reminds you of exactly where you are. What you'd just done.

Did you really just fuck Caleb in a club?

Without pulling out, Caleb wraps his arms around your entire body, drawing you closer. You squeak with overstimulation as his cock nestles back against your g-spot, making you see an explosion of stars.

"You okay, pips?" His voice returns to that familiar low, gentle protective affection that made your heart swell with unbelievable adoration and love.

"Y-Yeah, I am," you croak, which only makes him chuckle at the irony of your quaking voice—teasing you giving you a short gentle thrust.

"You're so damn beautiful," he whispers into your ear, groaning slightly at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him.

You grin happily, "Really? Then…I don't need to change anymore, right?"

Caleb nips your neck in warning as you tease him about your earlier argument. The argument that'd led to all of this. Kissing the bright sensitive hickey he's left on your neck, he growls, "Keep testing me. See what happens."

"What's gonna happen?" You stick your tongue out at him, "You don't scare me one bit."

His chuckle is as dark and sinister as it is warm and chocolate, "I think you know, pipsqueak. Let's just say…"

His fingers trace the neckline of your dress, finding bruises he hadn't even noticed he'd left there. Truly, it was like he'd completely lost all control over himself—not even able to remember everything he'd done, sucked into the black hole that was you.

"I want that dress off for entirely different reasons now."

"Y-You're such a dog. Now I'm never changing," you stutter through your furious blush, already imagining yourself naked. On his bed.

You playfully squirm away, but he continues to hold you tightly, and eventually you start gently swaying together. The romantic intimacy is out-of-place for this club setting, but his tenderness creates a warm bubble around your intertwined bodies that you never want to leave.

"You're such a brat," he whispers huskily into your ear, tilting your chin back in the direction of the energetic stage, "You're really going to torture me like that? What would Nainai think if she saw me pop a boner every time I looked at you, huh?"

"Caleb!" you swat at him playfully, not enjoying how even his lighthearted words have your hopes pathetically up and your cheeks embarassingly red—especially at the mention of your precious elderly grandmother, "Shut up before I really jump off that cliff that all my friends are supposedly jumping off of."

Caleb laughs as he realizes you're mocking his words from the argument you'd had earlier that night. He kisses your burning face tenderly, trying too smooth out the wrinkles that'd formed as a result of your incessant pouting, "Jump all you want. I'd just catch you. I always will."

You smile, sinking back into his arms—unable to stay mad at him, even for some stupid banter. Especially when he said things like that, with all the sincerity in the infinite galaxies. You knew he would. He always did—whether you wanted him to or not.

But you start to realize, just like your words from earlier, that you'd been ready for him to catch you for a long time. And that terrified you.

"How come?"

"How come what, Pips?"

"How come you'll always catch me? I can catch myself, y'know."

Caleb freezes, not ready for how suddenly the direction of the conversation has changed. He's silent, contemplating his words. He knows the answer to your question—he's known it for a while.

But as you trip over your own feet, Caleb only chuckles and hugs you tighter, breathing you in and finding a different answer. One that wouldn't terrify you.

"Dunno. It's Gege's job to always catch you, every time you fall—no matter how many times. And it's the world's hardest job, considering I have you as my Meimei," he teases as he supports your exhausted body.

He laughs when you spin around, cock finally slipping out of you, to pinch his cheeks and tug at his hair, giving him an earful about how you were world's best little sister and that he was lucky you put up with him. But still, even despite the sheer joy of the lighthearted moment, those words echo throughout his mind—his soul. And maybe one day, he'd find the courage to tell you.

That maybe it was because…he loved you a little more than you realized.