Work Text:
You foolishly thought that everything between you and Caleb would return to normal after that day. Both of you had silently promised to pretend that nothing ever happened, and that it was just a slight error in judgement. It was because you two had not seen each other for months when he was posted to the academy, and when you had to attend classes a 2 hour drive away. It was because both of you missed seeing each other after spending every single day of your lives together. It was also definitely that over dependency that you two have for each other was bordering on creepy and weird given that you two introduce yourselves as siblings to your friends.
It was also because there was no one else in both your lives that could ever be a good replacement. Yes, that was the reason. And as adults, you freshly turning 21 then and him, 24, you both had to find a way to meet all your unmet, biological needs. Very normal, natural and developmentally on par needs.
It truly had been a miscalculation on both your parts. Distance did indeed make the heart grow fonder, but that effect was far beyond what you had anticipated. When Caleb showed up at your rented apartment to stay the long weekend, a hug turned into a kiss on the cheek. You remember red ears, flushed cheeks and blown out pupils. Then a kiss on the cheek became a peck on the mouth. The details were getting marred as you tried to replay the memories of that night. But like a corrupted CD, each frame in the memory is blurred and skips over one another. You don’t remember the chronological flow of events, but you remember frantic hands on your body as you stumble through your living room. You remember running into chairs and corners and knocking over the little flower pot on your nightstand. And after all that, you didn’t even get to see him the next morning, when he said he had to rush back to Skyhaven for an emergency drill. A poor excuse to escape the humiliation from the night before.
You remember the feeling of combing your fingers through his hair, pulling at his silky hair while screaming his name as he sent waves of pleasure radiating through your entire body with his tongue and thick calloused fingers. The image of the flush that somehow spread all the way down to his chiseled abs makes you blush. You never imagined that you could get this angle of his well built body but the first peck on the lips had flipped a switch in both of you, a kiss that you had forgotten who had initiated. You’re on your knees on the bed, face pressed into your pillow as he keeps your back arched using his big hands on your back and by supporting your lower abdomen so he can thrust his cock into you from the back. The angle hits that delicious sweet spot in your velvet walls, the sounds of skin against skin unforgettable. You felt every inch of his arousal in you, and you remember despite it being your first time, and despite it hurting at first, the rest of the night seemed to continue with practiced ease.
Even after he came in you the first time, he was hard again as both of you were cleaning up. You remember drooling as his erection was brought back to life, and the shy look he had on his face which emboldened you. The second time, you took the lead and rode his dick, hands roaming his body as you committed each muscle to memory. You used your knees to bounce the full length of his cock, which explains the slight soreness in them the next day. He took the courtesy to switch your positions and then you were under him, his dog tag swinging into your face with each thrust. You remember gripping your bedsheets so hard it might’ve left a tear somewhere.
That night, after you cleaned up a second time, things fell into an uncomfortable silence. It wasn’t something that was common between the both of you. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to look you into your eyes. That night after what you both had done, he called you by your first name and not ‘pipsqueak’ or any variation of that. You remember the pit in your stomach when you heard your name called. When he put on his clothes, he turned to leave your room to sleep on the sofa.
You don’t remember exactly what happened, but you do remember that guilt and humiliation brewing inside of you when you realised he regretted his decision. But you also clearly remember that look of unrestrained desire on his face. The way his eyes were constantly lowering to your lips as you spoke, and how his fingers kept grazing your cheek, and his gentle hands. So why was he acting like this now?
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I stepped out of line.”
“No, I wanted it.”
“No, you didn’t. You shouldn’t want it, pip. This is… This is wrong. This is so…” He runs a palm down his face. “I’m supposed to be your protector. This is unforgivable.”
“Is loving me unforgivable?”
He sighs. “You know it’s not like that.” He looks at you with a pained expression. “I’m supposed to love you like a brother beating up the guy who breaks your heart. Like a brother who will make sure your partner treats you right, who walks you down the aisle when you find that special person you love.”
“But… I do love you.” You choked, surprised by even your own words. His eyes widen in shock, before he frowns and looks away. A pause.
“You’ll get over it.”
Your gut sours at that. You’ll get over it? As if the moment you realised he was more than just your childhood friend was just a slight blunder. That all the times you worry about him, all the times you try to conceal your sadness and disappointment when he has to go away to the academy and all the times you called just to hear his voice stemmed from just a temporary, fleeting desire. Who else can know you like Caleb does? Your comfort foods, your humour and your tantrums? How can anybody else banter with the same wittiness that Caleb does? How can anybody else talk to you for hours, like you two can never run out of things to say? You have never wanted anybody else but him.
A lump forms in your throat and heat rises to your cheeks again, but this time it was hot with embarrassment and frustration. Tears threaten to spill. The tightness in your throat makes it impossible to speak.
“We can’t do this. Can we…” A sigh. “... Just forget about this? I made a mistake.”
A mistake? Him driving 2 hours to see you was a mistake? Him cooking your favourite meal this whole evening was a mistake? Was him shoving you all the way to your bedroom and ripping off your shorts a mistake too? Or maybe when he loosened you up with his fingers, and then later with his tongue so that he could inch that thick swollen tip of his deeper and deeper into you, breaking you open? There were so many points in the night where he could’ve just left or denied you but he didn’t. You scoffed as tears glassed your vision.
“Ok, I’m sure everybody accidentally fucks their sister when they’re confused every once in awhile.”
You turn to leave, head to your bedroom and close the door with as much strength as is acceptable. Loud enough for him to hear you’re upset, but not too careless to wake all your neighbours up at this ungodly hour. You don’t remember how long the both of you were going at it, but you remember that the sky was still a light azure hue when you first kissed him. Now, the moon hung high and the crickets are singing.
Bolster pressed against your chest, you cry into your pillow and tears spill from your eyes. You were half hoping that he would walk in to check on you like he always does. He will hug you tight and pat your head as you go to sleep. Your wails go muffled in the pillow, and it wanes as sleep consumes you. You lay alone in your queen sized bed.
The next morning, he had already gone. You don’t know what time he left, but he left you a handwritten note telling you that the academy called and to heat the breakfast he made in the microwave before eating. Out of spite, you defied his instructions and took a bite of the sausage that he had left on the counter. It was already cold.
On the weekend he left, your phone was quieter than usual. But when Monday came he texted you as if nothing had happened. With lower case letters and silly emoticons, still with the teasing in his tone. You try to convince yourself that what happened was merely an extremely vivid dream. From the way things went back into normalcy, maybe it really could’ve been. A vivid wet dream that you had of your brother. Except, the broken flower pot on the floor next to you and the soil that sprinkled all over your floor proved otherwise. You threw the entire pot and the flower that you’ve been growing away.
And now you’re here. Nearing the middle of your semester, trying to study for your quizzes but snapshots of that night keeps intruding your mind as you try to revise. The memory of his fingers circling your sensitive clit keeps replaying at the most inopportune time. You find yourself reading the same sentence over and over again with the image of him ramming you into your headboard in the background of your mind. You feel a pulse building in intensity down below.
Nothing from your lecture notes is going into your mind. You slam your laptop lid shut restlessly. Ever since that night, your fingers don't seem to do the job anymore. It’s like your body has learnt what it could be experiencing, and nothing cuts close to what you felt that night. You groan into the empty room. You have cried about this multiple times, but tears didn’t always form because the frustration of it all was overriding your despair.
For both you and Caleb’s sake, you know that you have to let it slide. For any semblance of normalcy and the familial love that is so unique to the both of you, you need to forget. But why can’t you? Sure, having sex with the older brother figure you grew up with since you were a child is wrong and morally dubious. Confessing to him in the heat of the moment only for him to just sweep it under the rug doesn’t exactly count as a totally normal and common experience. But why does it feel even more wrong to just pretend? His resumption to normalcy made you overwhelmingly angry. It’s like you’re stuck in place, and he has long gone far ahead of you.
You thought that maybe it was just your sexual frustration, but when you found yourself at a party just two weeks ago, you realised that you were touchy with a guy with brown hair, and big purple eyes. He was also the tallest person in the room, except he still fell short. Except, his face wasn’t peppered with freckles. His jaw was a little too squarish, too. You remember closing your eyes and leaning in for a kiss, imagining someone else’s face instead. But the moment he kissed you, it was sloppy and careless. You pushed him away, frustrated that he failed to live up to your unspoken expectations, frustrated that he broke you out of your near perfect immersion.
Just then, your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. A message from Caleb. You picked your phone up embarrassingly fast.
Caleb: anything going on this thanksgiving weekend?
You waited for a bit to not sound so eager.
You: nth much
A simple, short response. It was read almost immediately.
Caleb: wanna spend it together? i can make you chicken pot pie :3
A beat of hesitation.
You: sure
Truth be told, you were not looking forward to seeing him again. Not after what happened just 2 months shy of today. You wonder how Caleb never let anything move him, ever the actor he was. You recall his gentle, puppy eyes and compare it to what you saw when he was carelessly kissing you in your apartment. How did he hide all his carnal desires and for how long? Or was what you witnessed just lust? Caleb, someone of many roles. You would rather believe he had a weird perverted kink about fucking sisters than believe he would deny his true, unadulterated feelings for you. To you, that night was real. It made you so happy to feel wanted by the person you wanted most. The only person you wanted. But now, you wish he had nothing to do with you.
You got no reply even after waiting until the end of the day.
When the next day rolled around, you decided to clean the house. You were 3 days too early, but it was best to get it out of the way. You cleaned whenever you found your mind wandering, which was every other hour. You decided that for Caleb, you were going to act nonchalant. Perhaps giving him the cold shoulder as you do when you’re mad at him will get him to do anything to assuage your anger. Or, he should feel terrible for whatever he did to you.
When the day rolls around, you find your resolve shaking a little. When he rings the doorbell and tries to reach for a hug, you awkwardly put some distance between him and you and give him a small pat on the back, even though you would be the first to jump into his arms after not seeing him for a week. That awkward hug, you thought, would set the tone for the rest of the evening. Detached and aloof, the opposite of what you and Caleb were.
He tries to start a conversation, but you deny him the satisfaction of pretending everything was normal. You answer with uninterested, unenthusiastic replies: “Fine”, “Yeah”, “Meh”. He eventually got the memo but not without some frustration. He slams the cupboard door as he’s preparing food, he sets the ceramic plates down much harder than he normally would. Expressive yet muted as he always was, even in his anger. You opted to keep quiet rather than comment on it, your own defiance tonight spurring you on. You would rather hear the noise of him working in the kitchen than absolute silence anyway.
You sit back on the sofa, kick your feet up on the coffee table (which he nearly tripped over as he was kissing you the last time he was here), and pick a show to watch. Normally, you would choose a show together, but you decided to continue watching where you left off on Criminal Minds. You know he notices, and you know he’s watching, but your pettiness for all the hurt he has caused you these past two months gave you courage that even you didn’t know you have.
He serves the chicken pot pie on the dining table and gestures to you to come over to the dining table. You keep the show playing as you walk over to the kitchen to grab a plate and some cutlery. Normally, you would grab two of everything, but today you decided to serve only yourself. You scoop the pie onto the plate and walk back to the sofa to continue your show.
“Not gonna sit here and eat with me?” Caleb asks, strained but still with an attempt to sound lighthearted.
“Uh uh”
He puts his plate down as gently as he could manage.
“What are you mad about this time?”
You took a bite of the pie. It tastes the same as it always does. Despite it all, despite the mistake and despite the cold shoulder, nothing changes the way that Caleb cooks with practised precision. For a moment, it felt like you were back home with grandma. You realise just how much you cling to nostalgia. For a moment, you could see the festive decorations that grandma and Caleb put up in the family home. Grandma’s laughter and naggings fill the air. Even if it’s just for a little while, you let yourself feel like everything was normal.
In your own daydream, you failed to respond. You gave him a side eye, and you notice he’s tense on the dining table. You’re not used to Caleb looking this uneasy, but if it meant that he could feel just a fraction of what these two months was like for you, you let it.
“Nothing. Just trying to be safe.”
“Is this… Because of what happened the last time I came over?”
Your fork clinks as you take another bite.
“What? What happened the last time you came over?” You ask, mouth half-full.
He sighs.
“Stop acting like a child. You’re not one anymore.”
“Sorry, I guess I’ll just grow up and be the adult that you are.”
“Can’t you see how fucked up it would be if we were…” He trails off, unable to put a name to whatever it is that he so desperately tried to stave off.
“Yeah, I’m fucked up. At least I’m true to my words and actions.”
“What words? What actions?” He plead, throwing his arms up in frustration.
“That I love you, that you’re my everything. I tell you this all the time. I told you the same thing the last time you came.” Tears threaten to spill from your eyes. “Everything that I did for you… they were my truest expressions of my love for you.” A bite of your pie. “It’s all real, and whatever happened… I don’t have anything to apologise for. You’re the one acting like a child.”
“I promise you, one day you’re going to say this about someone else. What you feel for me now… You’re going to feel for another person.” He reasons, desperately. “If it means that I need to disappear from your life for you to let go of me…”
He stops. Because he can’t believe what he has just said, and seeing the pained expression in your face as you turn over to face him, the streaks of tears finally run down your face. Disgusting, you think.
You set the plate down on the coffee table, and in 4 quick strides walk over to Caleb. You stop yourself from balling his shirt in your fists, from punching his chest, and slapping his face. You wish you could make it all hurt for him, just like it did for you. You wonder how you could do just that. You knew he was a man who provided, who sheltered and protected and you’re going to deny him the chance to be that person to you.
You take his freshly baked chicken pot pie and upturn the pan into the sink. Caleb watches as it slides slowly out of the pan and lands into the sink with a thud. The pie is still hot underneath, and the steam rose as it sits in the metal basin. You release the pan and it clatters in the sink. Metal against metal, the clang rang in both your ears. You looked at his face and much to your annoyance, there was not a trace of anger or sadness, just a calm and collected face.
You walk over to him, shove him, and he stumbles. He could very easily fight back and resist you, but he lets you push him all the way out to the entrance. Even in this moment, him obliging you even as you’re kicking him out of your apartment. Here he is, being the big brother giving in to his little sister again. Just like that, you two become siblings again. You let out a frustrated grunt as you wipe the tears that blurred your vision.
He backs all the way up to the front door, and you open the door for him. He walks out on his own. You can still barely see through your tears, and there is this strange buzzing in your head.
“Since you wanna leave so bad, then go.” You snided. “Get out,” you spat. Even though he was out, you meant that in every sense of the word. Get out of this building, get out of this neighbourhood. Get out of my life.
He stands, stunned. For someone who always knows what to do no matter the situation, he’s awfully still. Right now, all he does is look at you with those sad downturned eyes. That’s all he can ever really offer you. And yet, you still give him a chance. He opens his mouth to say something but relents. You stand, waiting for him to say something, as if that could fix what has become of this relationship.
You stare, and even in the blur cast by your tears, you see that he’s looking down. He has nothing left to say or offer to you, not even those sad eyes.
You slammed the door shut in his face, and the bang seemed to signify the beginning of something new, what should be normal – Your life without Caleb.
And so, life resumed as per normal. You went back to your lectures, you met your friends for meals. Some days, you cooked your own meals for dinner and stayed in to watch a show. When you were up for it, you read a book or tried crochet. When friends invited you to the bar, you agreed.
Normal, because this is how your life is supposed to go. Caleb doesn’t text, nor does he call. Despite that, you know he’s not gone. He is simply living with you in silence. You tried to do your assignments, and you resisted every urge to text him about your day. You tried to focus on being a good student, and being a good friend. But it’s so difficult when all your life, all you’ve known is to be a good sister. At least then, you had a reason to stave off all these inappropriate thoughts of Caleb that came at an alarming rate.
But since that day, you had no reason left. Your mind runs, and it runs so much your heart aches. You realise that you’ve never known what it’s like to be you without Caleb. You try to cling on to these different identities but they all circled around being Caleb’s younger sister. Even at the bars, you were still Caleb’s sister: You hold back when someone approaches, and you kiss some strangers, but they are all still just strangers because you belonged to someone else. It felt like you were spinning rapidly out of orbit, bracing yourself to crash.
You knew that was a problem, but you knew that the only solution to that was the person that brought about this problem in the first place. No matter how much you try to reason with yourself these lonely nights, you can’t seem to figure out the enigma that is your relationship; Your relationship was built on contradictions. Caleb is the person who has loved you unconditionally your whole life, but under the condition that you keep a safe distance.
Caleb brought you so much pain, but he has simultaneously brought so much love. You would rather experience the equal intensities of both, than to live without either. You know that what has become of your relationship can’t be reversed, but if only you could have just a taste of what you two once had…
That pot of pie that you had dumped into the sink, and that you had to painstakingly scoop into the trash bag. You wish you could have another taste of that. One plate isn’t enough for you, you usually have to go back for seconds.
You call Caleb.
Time seems to move fast, especially when you’re desperate and in need of answers. You called to ask where he was, and if you could come. He tells you obediently where he’s at, how long he would be there. He was in town before his deployment the following week. Your journey to him would take 45 minutes by public transport. Do you need me to pick you? Nope, no need. Be there 20.
You throw on an outfit made of home clothes, and bring a small black leather slingbag that has nothing but lip balm and your wallet in it. It’s breezy and cold, your face numbs. You flag down a cab and hop in. Muscle memory tells the driver where you need to be. The roar of the taxi engine and the winds from the outside distracts you from how carelessly the driver is driving, at least to Caleb’s standards.
You think about what to say, how to say it. Hug? No hug? Maybe you could land a slap on his face. Or would you wait for him to come down and pick you?
Your phone vibrates. What’s happening? What’s wrong? You don’t answer. You will arrive soon enough to answer these questions, especially if the driver continues to drive like this. You take out your wallet and count the tens. You tap your foot impatiently.
When the driver starts rounding the familiar corner, your hands are already resting on the car door handle. Before he even stops, you lay two tens on his console box. Thanks, you say, while simultaneously swinging the door open into the windy, fall evening the moment he pulls the handbrakes.
Your feet knows where to carry you in this apartment, and as you enter the lift, you don’t bother to think about which floor it is, because your fingers seem to know exactly which button to click, which column and which row. The elevator dings and you dart out, making a left turn. You see that his door is already ajar, and you’re certain he heard the ding of the elevator.
Sure enough, just as you’re three steps away, he steps out to greet you, his figure popping out of the hallway. Except, when you walk up to him, you toss your sling bag onto the floor, into the apartment and you grab the collars of his shirt to pull him into a deep, hungry kiss. More, you thought. I want this and more.
Caleb stumbles, clearly taken aback but there was no way to know because you clenched your eyes shut. You didn’t want to see the expression on his face. You feel his arms around your waist to steady you and he kicks his front door shut.
Your hands are wrapped around the back of his neck, and he’s holding you tighter now, hands snaking up your back to comb your long hair. Feeling his big hands on yours and how they’re making no effort to push you away gave you the courage to slowly open your eyes. He is also afraid to look into your eyes, for fear of what he might see in it. And even though he doesn’t look, and even though you can’t see his intentions, you felt comforted in the fact that he was just as afraid.
You push and he relents, he lets you push, just as you two did as children. But it isn’t lost on you that the steps that he is taking are towards his bedroom. For a moment you understood, he has always given you the illusion that you were in charge, and that you could define this relationship, not realising that he was the captain of the ship steering all along.
Stupid, you thought. Stupid, but here you are, pushed onto his bed with just a shove of your shoulders. You land hard enough to bounce on the mattress, and for your head to hurt on impact. You watch as he tactfully takes off his shirt, looking down at you. His eagerness and the ease of the past few minutes makes you wonder if he had been anticipating this moment since you chased him out of your house.
He tosses his shirt aside, and leans down with both elbows at the side of your head. He climbs onto the bed, and you feel his knee next to your thighs, the bed sinking to accommodate size. He captures your lips in a reverent kiss as he traps you with his body. He doesn’t break the kiss for you to catch your breath, so all you can do is breathe heavily through your nose.
He snakes his arms behind your back to hoist you up into a sitting position, before gripping your thighs and pulling you into his lap effortlessly. You unmistakably feel his boner over his pajama pants, but he doesn’t even give you a moment to protest with the intensity of his kisses. His desperation causes your stomach to twist in hunger for him.
He finds the hem of your shirt and sneaks his big hands up your back. His embrace and touch is warm and protective. But, for a moment he tightens his grip on your back, and his touch becomes searing hot and possessive. You can’t seem to discern which of the two he feels for you. Does he hold you close to keep you safe, or to simply keep you?
You grinded on his arousal, again like muscle memory, something that seemed to come so easy like how breathing and walking is easy, like how it’s the most natural thing to do. But he whines, and breaks the kiss. You stare into his deep amethyst eyes for the first time tonight, and he returns those sad eyes again.
You gaze at each other deeply. Any deeper and you might see each other’s truest thoughts and carnal desires, all the lust and dirty thoughts you’ve had of each other. You may even see all the times he has wanted to claim you as his own, all the times in his head that he has undressed and fucked you until your legs are weak and until all that’s left in you is him. And for that reason, he looks away.
A sense of fear grips you as you see his resolve waver. You try to distract him by leaning in for another kiss but he detracts. You feel your blood run cold, frightened. But worse, it frightened you even more that he could have this effect on your body. You’re worried that he’s going to leave again, and you weren’t going to let him leave until you were the one to push him away.
So, you leveraged on your position to grind on him again. He hisses and you feel his boner twitch, straining to burst through the tight fabric. He grunts, as if in pain. He can deny you all he wanted in his mind, but in the end, primal lust does not lie.
“I… can’t…” He pants, heart pounding so quickly against his bare chest as you let your hands roam. His face is dusted pink under the dim bedroom lights, and he grips you so tight it’ll leave marks the next day.
You don’t say anything because there was no need to. As you continued to rub yourself onto him, you slowly peel your own shirt off. You didn’t need to convince him of anything because from what you know about your own beloved brother, his restraint is merely the final facade of his own sense of control and responsibility.
You toss your shirt aside and his hands do the work of unclipping your bra strap and pushing the straps off of your shoulders. He watches as your breasts reveal themselves to him. He runs his hands slowly over your chest, giving them a subtle squeeze before running his thumb over the swells of your breast. You sigh. You silently wish that he could put that need for control aside and let himself be. To whom are you going to prove your sibling relationship with, apart from his own shame?
You stop your grinding abruptly, and he thrusts his hip into you almost subconsciously, trying to chase the delectable sweetness that the momentum of your hips brought. He watches your lust-filled, half-opened eyes and your loose jaw as you take in his slow thrusts. You throw your head back to expose your smooth neck, and to give him a better view of your breasts. His restraint is like a taut rubber band, threatening to snap at any moment.
He lunges forward and catches a whiff of your neck as he sweeps your long hair aside, the other hand still softly caressing your nipple, leaving a ghost of a touch every time he brushes his finger over it. He sniffs hard, and releases a husky breath right below your ear. This sends a shockwave of pleasure that shoots down your spine. You felt a warm pool in your underwear, your clit palpating with anticipation. He sticks his tongue out and licks the column of your neck, and bites down hard under your chin. You gasp, and he sucks the spot. His warm tongue circles the bruise that’s forming on your neck, while his thumb circles your nipples, pushing lightly like a joystick.
You cling onto his neck and bob your head back to give him better access to your own. He lays you down gently on his bed and he straightens, knees still on the bed by your side. You watch as his body towers over you, and his undeniable erection in full view. He pulls his pants down enough to let his erection spring free, and he starts pumping himself with his hands.
You watch as he fucks his big hands. You never knew you had it in you to feel jealous of a hand. He jerks himself off as he pins you down with his stature. You watch as he seemingly tries to find loopholes around his guilt and shame. In fact, you wonder if this was his way of lessening his own guilt. After all, he wasn’t laying a finger on you, as if masturbating to the sight of you was any less of a trespass than ramming himself into you. You wonder how far he would go to excuse his thirst for you.
You reach for the hems of your shorts to pull it off of your legs together with your underwear, though he doesn’t seem to notice at first because he has his eyes sealed tight. But he senses your maneuver and casts his gaze downwards, only to see you toying yourself with your fingers, your digits already slick with wet from your own arousal. He pumps himself faster, grunting with pleasure, though you sense that his hands alone won’t satiate that hunger.
You watch him with playful, teasing eyes, a slight smirk playing on your lips. You know that he sees it, all the subtleties in your facial expression. Nobody knew you better than he did. He brings himself closer to you, and slows the pumping. He grabs his cock and waves it in front of you, teasing you back.
You lift your hips in invitation, all your folds visible to him at that angle. Then, he touches you. He touches you with the head of his cock, rubbing slowly on every single wet fold. Slowly, he spreads his precum all over your cute, pink lips. He rubs his cock against the slit of your folds, and then from side to side, spreading you open even wider with his angry tip. By then, your fingers have gone paralysed, unable to match up to the girth of his arousal. You feel him rub himself all over you, slowly moving past the entrance, threatening to stretch you open ever so slightly but just as you start to accommodate his tip, he takes his hands to slide his cock right past it.
For the first time tonight, you make a sound that is coherent – a whine – granting him the sweetness of your voice.
“Please,” you plead, legs twitching with want.
He leans close enough for his nose to touch yours, his hand on his length never stopping the playful tease on your clit. You wait for him to say something, but you only hear his heavy, laboured breaths. He was trying to give you what you both wanted, but in a way he thinks is the most forgivable.
“Just the tip, okay?” He bargains, as if in response to you, even though you’ve never asked for anything – at least, not directly. He slowly positions the head of his cock in your entrance. You watch where your bodies meet, and you see his length glimmering with your wetness. He presses ever so slightly, and you feel your walls already expanding to accommodate him. You stretch, and you squirm, but only he controls how much of his dick is in you.
His swollen tip was already enough to send a shockwave of heat and pleasure throughout your body. Your body prickles with goosebumps, and your clit pulsates to your rushed heartbeat. You spread your legs wider, coaxing him to bury himself into the hilt but he remains surprisingly controlled, only letting the tip be enveloped in your warmth.
He moves, but only enough for his tip to pop in and out with soft, sinful squelches. You grip the bedsheets, frustrated at the feeling of emptiness and the deprivation of his cock filling you in. You try to use your feet to push yourself into his cock but he quickly pulls away. When he said just the tip, it seems like he really meant it.
There was no rational explanation for this. You two have already crossed the line when he came to visit two months ago. In his own shame, he has deprived you of your own pleasures.
“Caleb…” You moan, as he continues to only give you the pleasure of his tip. “Gege…”
At the sound of the endearing nickname, you feel him push inside a little more, and he twitches inside you. The wrongness of this relationship somehow riles him up even more. What a hypocrite.
He grunts as he slowly pulls a quarter of his whole length out of you.
“Just…” His voice, strained.
And then, you feel his tip again. But he keeps going, your velvet walls stretching further and further to take in his dick. The ridges of your walls rub delectably on his cock, and he pushes even more. Each inch that he pushed inside made every pulse more intense, every receptor in your clit to swell with pleasure. Your body buzzes and screams with pleasure, and he isn’t even done yet.
He gives you his final inch, and you feel his head push against your walls, threatening to press the squirt out of you. You feel his balls against your wet heat, and you feel so full, body and clit singing in chorus, reaching a crescendo. The shape of his length applies pressure to all right spots.
You begin to feel lightheaded, and you realise you were holding your breath this whole time. He sits up and looks at how deep he’s buried in you. He lets out a frustrated scoff. You wonder what he was thinking. Does he resent you for goading him? Does he hate himself for giving in to you yet again? Does he hate just how irresistible his sister is, and how no matter who he meets, he can’t seem to get her out of his mind?
“Fuck,” is all he says before he pulls his entire length out of you, before ramming his length back into you with a desperation you’ve never witnessed, driving you into his bed’s headboard. The bed rattles, and the bed squeaks from all the movement. The friction of his thrusts and how his cock stretches you repeatedly causes a roaring sensation that synchronised with your heartbeat. The arousal burns and gleams, hotter and hotter with endless inferno. You blabber and moan, unable to form a single word. With each thrust you feel yourself clenching onto his cock tighter and tighter, hoping to remember the shape of your brother.
He picks up speed, and he runs you into the mattress so fast that the bottom half of your body is heating up. You feel your arousal hitting a fever pitch. Every part of your body is set alight, and every sensation your body registers adds on to this overwhelming thrill. Just when you thought your body was going to release the tension, it builds impossibly higher until it hurts.
“Gege!” You scream, unable to bite back the tension in your body any longer.
The rhythm of his thrusts suddenly stutters, and he hurriedly pushes every inch into you and stays there for a split second before quickly pulling out. The sudden lack of stretch causes your body to convulse and release a build up of impossible tension. You shake, from your head all the way down to your toes. Caleb aims his erection at your navel and a string of cum bursts out of his tip. You feel his warm cum on your stomach, some spurting over your breasts.
Warmth oozes out of you and your clit continues to pulsate, slower now but steady nonetheless.
You heave. There is no other sound but heavy breaths. You have never felt a buzz like this, not on your own or with anyone.
As the pleasure subsides, he peels himself off of you. The cold air that hits your naked body makes you realise how much heat was emanating between the both of you. He walks into the attached toilet and brings a cloth. He slowly wipes the damp cloth on your body, cleaning himself off of you.
As he wordlessly cleans, you feel an inkling of resentment brewing in you. In the calmness of the aftershock, the frustration and hurt that you desperately pushed away is bobbing back up to the surface. Did you really come all this way, forgetting the betrayal that you felt for him for these few minutes of passion? You are starting to realise how he must have felt.
He steps into the toilet and leaves the door slightly adjourn.The water runs as he washes the cloth. Then, silence, before you hear the shower run. You take this chance as he’s washing up to hurriedly fish out your clothes on the floor. You threw your clothes on as quickly as you had removed it, quietly, and tiptoed to the entrance to take your sling bag still lying on the floor, before leaving. You leave his front door ajar, just as he had left it before you arrived.
For all the frenzy that he had caused you the first time, this was your only way to make him feel as you did: abandoned, cast aside, almost imaginary, like he had just dreamt this entire encounter. But you wonder if this was his reason for leaving you. He had lost all sense of rationality, and he hates himself for giving in. He had succumbed to his temptations the moment he accepted your invite to your room, when he let the hug linger, and when he kissed your cheek. It was a moment of weakness for him as much as for you. You know that leaving meant sparing him the humiliation, the awkward, uncomfortable silences, and it spared you from his sad eyes and regret.
What kind of sick fate is this? One that allows you just a sip of the heavenly nectar, but punishes you for indulging. You have all this love contained for each other, but only allowed to love in a strict set of rules. Where are the misplaced affections supposed to go? Perhaps growing up with each other is the prerequisite to loving each other. In that case, there wasn’t much to complain about – you would rather have spent your whole life knowing him as gege than not at all. You cannot imagine a life without him, even the mere thought of it causes a tear to prick in your eye.
You walk down the hall to the elevator. You watch as the numbers slowly climb up the stories to yours, and then it dings. The door swishes open, and out of sentimentality, you glance over to his unit to silently say goodbye.
The door is fully shut.