Chapter 9 Caleb
NINE
CALEB
I try to breathe, but the air in my chest feels thick, like it’s trying to suffocate me.
Maybe it is. Miguel’s behind me before I even realize I’ve stopped moving.
His hand curls around my arm, iron-strong, dragging me in the direction of the house.
My hands are still bound and I almost want to ask him to take the rope off.
I don’t fight him.
Even the thought of running feels foolish.
“You’re all mine now,” he says, low and sharp, almost a growl. “Even when you go back to school. Mine. Understand?”
I glance back at him. Masked or unmasked, it doesn’t matter—he owns the night, the yard, the woods, and even me. “It’s not like we can be together, Miggy.”
He chuckles, dark and slow. “You think I give two shits about other people? Fuck what everyone thinks. We don’t need labels. And it’s not like I’m asking you to marry me or some stupid shit, Caleb. You belong to me. End of story.”
Heat blooms low in my abdomen. I press my thighs together instinctively, knowing I’m already undone. The words themselves hum through me, pulling me toward him. My hands clench uselessly, and I hate how much I want him. Hate that part of me is finally submitting to him.
“If you’re going to ruin me,” I dare him, voice trembling but defiant, “do it without hiding. I deserve to be wanted in the open.”
What the fuck am I saying?
His grin is sharp enough to cut. “You like being seen, huh?” He presses a finger under my chin, tilting my head up. “You want everyone knowing who you belong to?”
I can’t stop the shiver that runs through me. “Yes,” I whisper, though the word tastes like shame and craving all at once.
The way he studies me—slow, predatory—makes my stomach tighten. He’s not just looking at me. He’s consuming me. Measuring exactly how much he can take from me, how far he can push me. Every nerve in my body hums with anticipation and dread.
“Okay,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”
We cross into the house together, completely ignoring the loud music and the laughter of the drunk partygoers.
Our parents. The hallway to our rooms feels tighter, the shadows long and suffocating, wrapping us up in their embrace.
I try to keep my gaze level, but my pulse is hammering.
Every creak of the floorboards is a reminder that I can’t hide from him anymore.
When we reach my old bedroom, the door slams shut behind us. Childhood posters, basketball trophies, and the faint scent of my teenage years feel like a fragile shield against the storm I’m walking into. But it doesn’t matter. Miguel doesn’t notice, doesn’t care.
He spins me around, pressing me against the door, his body so close to mine but not touching. His hands trace along my shoulders and down my back, teasing, claiming, and making it clear I am no longer allowed to resist. My breath hitches, chest rising and falling too fast.
Nowhere to run.
It’s just me and him.
“You wanted this,” he whispers into my ear, voice wet with dark amusement. “You wanted me to ruin you.”
I want to deny it, but the truth shreds me from the inside. Every inch of me is already undone. “Yes,” I admit, voice small, almost lost. “I want it. I need it.”
There’s this small part of me that wants the ruin just so I can feel… something.
Wanted?
So I won’t feel broken inside for not being like everyone else.
Miguel whispers low, the sound vibrating against my spine. “Let go, Caleb. I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but just know this isn’t just about me. This is about you, too. I want you. And not just to get off.”
He turns me around and presses close, chest against mine, hand moving to my jaw again, tilting my head up. His gaze is fierce, unmasked now, but there’s a hint of softness to it.
Though there’s also hunger.
Possession.
The promise of ruin.
My body shakes with an involuntary shiver, like the surrounding air just dropped ten degrees.
“You’re trembling,” he says, eyes darkening. “Am I scaring you, little brother?”
I shake my head, but it’s a useless gesture. “No—” My voice catches. “I’m—”
“Shh,” he murmurs, hand sliding down to grip my hip, holding me still. “You don’t get to hold back from me anymore. Not tonight. Not ever again. I’ve got you now, Caleb.”
I swallow, the knot in my stomach tightening. My pulse is frantic, and my chest feels ready to burst. I hate how much I want him, hate how desperate I am, but I can’t stop it. I can’t stop myself from shivering against him, waiting for him to take control.
I hate that I don’t hate him at all.
I hate myself.
That I can’t be happy in my head.
I sag against him. Giving in.
I deserve this. I deserve to be happy. To feel wanted, even if it’s with Miggy.
Especially with Miggy.
His lips brush my temple, soothing. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Stop holding back. You’ve been starving for this, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, weak, broken. “I’ve wanted it forever.”
He chuckles softly. “Me too. Now I can give you all of me.”
“Untie me, Miguel. I wanna touch you. Please.”
“Okay.” His fingers gently undo the knot, freeing my hands.
I take full advantage and without letting my brain talk me out of it, I grab his face and kiss him.
My mouth attacks his, hungry for a taste of what I’ve been craving.
Years of repressed feelings and attraction colliding like it’s the end of the world.
I’m caught between fear and craving, arousal and shame.
Every fiber of my body is alive, every nerve taut and raw.
I know the moment he moves will shatter me completely.
I can’t stop my hands from shaking as I fist his hair, weaving into his mess of curls and ruining how he’d styled it. My chest heaves as he pulls back, studying me, reading every reaction. It’s amazing how obedient my body’s become, like it knows that this is what it needs.
Miguel grins, catching the faint tremor that skates across my lips. “Perfect,” he whispers. “Do you know how fucking perfect you are, Caleb? You’ve waited so long to be mine. And now… you are.”
The words hit me like a weight. Nobody has ever called me perfect.
I press myself closer against him, not because I have to, but because I want to.
Because I’ve been aching for this control, this dark obsession, for him to take me fully.
So many nights I would wish for him to come into my room, crawl under the covers with me and break the facade.
I close my eyes, letting myself feel the tension build to its breaking point. Every sense is sharp, every sound muted with the exception of his voice and the pulse of my own desperation.
He leans in again, whispering into my ear, teeth grazing my lobe, “All of you. Every piece of you is perfect.” Miguel grips the hem of my sweatshirt and pulls it over my head. My bare chest with the chaotic placement of random tattoos is now on display for him.
There’s no rhyme or reason to any of them, just little things to give me the hit of dopamine that I needed. The prick of the needle on my skin would dull everything around me even if it was just for a moment.
I can’t stop the shiver. “I’ve never seen myself like that—” I breathe, every word soaked in surrender, shame, and craving.
“Well, I said you are.” He steps back and pulls his shirt over his head, one arm in a complete sleeve, chest covered in an intricate tribal design, and a serpent coiling down the other arm.
My mouth hangs open as I watch him kick his shoes off and take off his pants.
“Shoes and shorts, little brother. I need to see all of you.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice—I kick my shoes off, one of them hitting the wall a little too loud. Then come down my shorts and underwear, my hands dropping to cover myself. Self-conscious? Maybe a little. I’m not small by any means—if I had to guess, I’d say Miggy and I are about the same size.
Mine is just sans piercings.
“Don’t hide yourself from me, Caleb.” He tugs at my hands and I drop them.
Eyeing my cock, he smirks. “Now why would you hide your cock from me, little brother?”
“I—I dunno?”
“Hmm, I’ll just have to work on how you see yourself, because you have nothing to hide. You’re beautiful, Caleb.”
I feel the tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Christ, you will not cry right now, Caleb.
With my hand in his, he leads me to the bed and urges me onto my back. For a second, a part of me panics. This is really happening. “You don’t want me on hands and knees?” The words come out almost unintelligible with how fast I say them.
“No, I want to see your face while I fuck you for the first time, Caleb. Or would you rather ride me?”
I stare up at him, my brain trying to process the question. I’ve never done either, so I don’t even know how to answer him. “Um. I guess—how do you want me?”
“I gave you the options, Caleb. Pick one.”
If only it were that easy.
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. My pulse is sprinting like it wants to leap out of my chest. His words shouldn’t calm me, but they do. He’s giving me a choice.
“I… want to see you,” I finally whisper. My voice sounds too small, too uncertain, but it’s the truth. “I want to watch you when you… take me.”
Miguel’s mouth curves into a slow, hungry grin. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”
It was.
Heat rushes through me at his words, sharp and dizzying.
He presses a knee onto the mattress, crawling over me with deliberate patience, like he knows every inch he takes will wind me tighter.
His weight settles above me, heavy and grounding, and for once my thoughts don’t feel like they’re trying to shred me apart.
“Breathe,” he says, firm but soft. His hand spreads wide across my chest, feeling the frantic rise and fall. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Stay here with me.”
I nod, sucking in a ragged breath and letting it go. It doesn’t fix everything, but it’s something.
“That’s it,” he praises. “See? You can let go. You don’t need to fight yourself right now. Just let me do that for you.”