Chapter 14 #2
“She would have loved you,” he whispers.
“I’m sure I would have loved her, too. She made you, didn’t she?”
He sniffles loudly, tears wetting my skin. “Thank you. For coming here. For the flowers.”
“Of course,” I say softly, running my hand along the nape of his neck, squeezing it softly.
We stand like that for what feels like hours while I hold him, letting him experience the sorrow of loss, before we head back. The sun is setting in the distance, casting a glow of warm reds and purples across the sky.
He holds my hand the entire way home.
And even though I feel closer to him than ever before, it still feels like the beginning of the end.
When we arrive back at his aunt and uncle’s, Caleb is quiet, his chest drawn inward, his eyes hooded and sad.
I make sure to eat dinner quickly, refusing the offer to head outside and drink by the fire. I know what he needs to get through today.
I know what I can offer him.
“Come,” I say, standing up and leading him to our bedroom. He follows behind me glumly, his movements sluggish.
I lock the door behind us and then step into him, my hands dragging across his chest. I feel him slowly come alive at my touch, see his pupils slowly dilate, his breathing growing shallower.
My fingers curl into the flannel shirt, and I push it down his shoulders and onto the floor before pulling his t-shirt over his head, taking a minute to admire his abdomen.
“So, I take it you’re no longer punishing me for earlier,” he says as I unbutton his pants and shuck them off.
“I’ll fuck you tonight because you need it, Caleb. But you’re going to earn it.”
His sadness is quickly replaced with eagerness as I shove him onto the bed. He falls against it, completely naked, his body trembling with need.
I stand before him, feeling brave, feeling like I’d own the world if I owned his heart. And then I start stripping. Slowly, making him wait.
Making him writhe with each bit of skin I reveal.
“Come on, Whit,” he pleads as I step to the edge of the bed and drag a finger down his sternum. His heart is pounding so hard.
So hungry for more, always so perfect for me.
“There will be no rushing tonight,” I murmur, knowing that he needs this as much as I do.
He groans as I drag my finger over to his pec and tug on his nipple ring. “You know I have excellent control. I can fuck for hours.”
“You’re full of shit,” he breathes shakily.
“You have very little control.”
“Not my fault,” he moans as I slide my fingers through his happy trail.
“You’re too eager. You have no patience. Have you ever been edged?”
He shakes his head frantically as I wrap my fingers around his cock and slowly stroke it.
“I’m going to bring you to the edge so many times, you will cry, and I’m going to enjoy doing it.”
He’s sweating, his eyes wild as I watch him fall apart piece by piece.
Just like he’s done with me over the past several weeks. He’s wrecked me.
My gaze settles on his throbbing pulse, the way his veins are popping out of his skin from the strain of it all. From trying to hold back.
I feel the same.
It’s been hours. I’ve fucked him in every position, not letting him find any kind of release. I’ve made him wait.
It’s torture. Because the way his body opens up for me, the way he looks at me as I tunnel in and out of that tight, wet hole…
It’s indescribable.
My cock drags out of him before slowly pushing back in. A bead of sweat rolls down my cheek as my cockhead rests right at his opening before pushing slowly back inside.
I never sweat during sex, always making sure it’s quick and methodical. But this has been a feat of epic proportions. My Everest.
It’s also my punishment.
“Please,” he begs, his fingers holding on to me tightly, his blue eyes watering. “Please.”
“Begging won’t help. You can go longer.”
I lift one of his legs and drive into him, hitting his prostate and making his eyes roll into the back of his head. But before he can come, before he can find his sweet release, I pull out and stare down at him.
I need this moment as much as he does.
This is too raw, too real.
All these feelings are bubbling up inside me. It’s a desperate feeling.
It’s something I’ve never felt in my entire life.
“Whit,” he moans as I swipe at my damp forehead.
“You too sore, Caleb?” I ask as I apply more lube to my cock and his hole. I’ve almost gone through a whole bottle.
“Never,” he breathes as I press a finger inside him and crook it.
“Good boy.”
Then I lean down and take his cock into my mouth. The third time tonight, bringing him to the edge once more before pulling off.
“No, keep going,” he pants, frantic.
“No. On your knees,” I say, wiping the back of my hand against my swollen mouth.
“Can’t.”
“On your knees, Caleb.”
He rolls over and moans, fucking his cock into the mattress like he needs relief.
“Do not come on the sheets,” I say, my arms shaking from exhaustion as I lift his hips and push my way back inside him. Until he’s breathless, until he’s begging me to stop.
“Enough,” he moans. “Enough. Please, Whit. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Enough.”
I exhale, realizing that he’s learned his lesson. And so have I.
I pull out and flip him over, his body lax, completely limp.
“I’m going to watch you come now,” I murmur, and he lets out a relieved breath. Then I enter him again, the squelch of my cock pushing into him a filthy, needy sound.
His eyes close as I pound into him, throwing both his legs over my shoulders and thrusting forward. The headboard bangs into the wall from the frenzied movements, Caleb nearly folded in half as his entire body shudders and shakes.
He’s groaning so loudly, I’m sure they can hear us outside, but neither of us cares.
All that matters is this.
“Can’t,” he gasps. “Can’t. Oh, fuck…fuck. There. There. Fuuuuuuck. Yes!”
His cock jumps, and his cum erupts from the tip, hitting his torso, his neck, and his chin. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
But I’m not done. I fuck into him harder, leaving my imprint on him, making him feel this, feel me.
When I come, my fingers dig into his skin, and I know there will be bruises there tomorrow.
He’ll see them and think of me.
My cock jerks, my balls drawing up, and I cry out, my neck straining, my head thrown back, my arms shaking as I empty myself into him. It’s euphoric, well-deserved. His hole grips me like a vise, and I nearly shout at how overly sensitive it is.
When it’s over, I collapse on top of him, right in the mess he made.
I inhale shakily, feeling completely worn out.
“You broke me,” Caleb says, his voice hoarse.
“You learned your lesson?”
“Nah. Give me twenty, and I’ll be ready to go again.”
I arch my hips slightly, and he gasps. He has to be sore from that. He has to be.
“I think you have,” I whisper, licking at the cum lingering on his chin before kissing him softly. “You did well.”
He groans, and his chest heaves. “You’re an animal.”
“Perhaps don’t test me again.”
He scoffs, and we wrap our arms around each other, holding on tightly. Eventually, we move to shower and for me to change the sheets. But as soon as we’re back in the room, we crawl under the bedsheets and curl up into one another.
Caleb moves onto me sometime in the night, and I hold him, desperate to keep him next to me as long as I can.
I sleep like the dead, only waking when Sem pounds on the door.
“You two awake yet?” Sem shouts.
“Go away,” Caleb calls back, his voice hoarse from screaming last night.
Sem kicks at the door, and Caleb groans. “Whit’s requested in the kitchen.”
“Ugh,” Caleb mutters, and I push at his shoulders.
But he’s unmoved. He just nuzzles in further.
“Come on, cuz! Ma is asking for him,” Sem shouts once more.
“I have to go,” I say, and he grumbles in annoyance, but eventually rolls off me.
When I sit up, I glance at him, his body barely covered by the sheets. A fucking sight.
“You okay?”
“My ass is sore. You tore me up,” he says, smiling over at me.
My eyes flick to his ass, and I feel my cheeks flush.
“We should take it easy then.”
He snorts. “Nah. I’m good.”
I huff a laugh, and then my voice grows serious.
“You okay today, Caleb?”
His smile fades, and he swallows roughly. “Yeah, man. Thanks. For the distraction.”
I nod and then lean forward, pressing a kiss to his temple before disappearing into the bathroom.
After showering and changing into my clothes, I head downstairs, wondering if I should feel embarrassed by how loud Caleb was last night, if anyone will say anything.
But no one brings it up. Instead, they’re focused on prepping for Thanksgiving.
Eventually, Caleb appears, his cheeks flushed, his gait slightly bowed as he heads out with Sem and Luke to the garage to work on one of their cars, leaving me alone with Aunt Del in the kitchen.
She hands me an apron, and I put it on, helping her make the pies. Pumpkin, apple, and a pecan.
“Did your mother teach you how to make these?” she asks, looking over at what I’m working on, admiring the latticework on the apple pie.
I huff a laugh. “Yeah, no.”
When she says nothing, I peer over at her, wishing I’d kept that comment to myself. It seems Caleb’s openness is rubbing off on me.
“My parents are…uninvolved. I learned this from a cook in the house growing up.”
“Oh.”
She blinks at me and then turns her gaze to the potatoes she’s peeling. She’s silent a moment, and then she moves toward me, wiping her hands on a towel. Her arms wrap around me, and she hugs me fiercely.
“I’m glad we have you now. We’re going to smother you with love, Whit.”
My eyes sting, and I nod, unable to speak. I’ve never been smothered with anything other than derision and disappointment.
What would it be like if I chose them? How much would I change after being loved like this long-term? Would I even recognize myself?
I turn my gaze away, unable to think of this. It’s too much. Far too scary.
Aunt Del is silent a moment and then adds, “And Caleb, that sweet boy, will love you with everything he has. If you’re brave enough to let him.”
I swallow and blink down at the pie.
Am I brave enough?
I don’t know if I ever have been.
“I’ll try,” I whisper.
“That’s all he needs.”
She pulls away, the two of us getting back to work. But her words ring in my mind throughout dinner.