Chapter 9 Caleb #2
I can’t look away from him—his tattoos, his eyes, the way he’s staring down at me like I’m worth something. Like I’m his entire world.
“Fuck, Caleb,” he mutters, lowering his mouth until our lips brush. “You’re perfect like this. Open. Needing me. Mine.”
When he kisses me this time, it’s not rough, not sharp. It’s steady. Claiming. His tongue slides against mine and I arch into him, clutching at his shoulders because I don’t know what else to hold on to.
He breaks away just enough to whisper, “You still want this?”
“Yes.” My voice cracks, but the word is clear. “Please, Miggy.”
That earns me another kiss, deeper, hungrier. His hand trails down my stomach, stopping just above where I’m already hard and aching. I tense, embarrassed, but he only smirks.
“Don’t think,” he says, in a voice so soft I almost don’t hear him. “Don’t ever hide from me.”
When his hand finally wraps around me, I gasp, my back arching off the bed. It’s too much and not enough, pleasure spiking sharp and raw through every nerve.
“You’re so fucking sensitive,” he groans, stroking me slowly. “Been waiting all this time for me to touch you like this, huh?”
I nod frantically, unable to form words.
His touch sets my insides on fire.
I’ve never felt this way when I touched myself.
His thumb sweeps over the head of my cock, smearing the pre-cum, and I whimper, burying my face in his shoulder. He chuckles darkly, but his other hand rubs along my ribs, grounding me again.
“Look at me,” he orders gently. I force my eyes open, meeting his. “Good. Keep your eyes on me. I need to see these pretty blue eyes when you finally break.”
It’s too much—the praise, the demand, the care hidden in the rough edge of his voice. I feel like I’m unraveling piece by piece, but for once, I’m not scared of it.
I’m safe with Miggy.
Miguel doesn’t rush. He kisses me until my lungs burn, until the noise in my head quiets to a dull murmur, until I’m trembling with need instead of panic. When he finally pulls back, his hand cups my jaw, his thumb stroking the edge of my cheekbone.
“Still with me?” he murmurs.
“Yes.” My voice is small, but it’s steady.
“Good. Then I’m going to take care of you.”
The words hit me like a jolt. Take care. Nobody’s ever said that to me and meant it.
He leans down, kissing along my throat, my chest, and my stomach, each press of his mouth grounding me deeper into the mattress. When he slides lower, I gasp and clutch at the sheets.
“Miggy—”
“Shh.” His dark eyes flick up, locking on mine. “You trust me?”
I swallow hard and nod. “Yes.”
“Then let me show you what it feels like to be wanted. Because you are so wanted, Caleb.”
His mouth closes over my aching cock before I can reply, hot and wet and overwhelming.
A broken sound tears from my throat, and my hips buck helplessly.
He pins me down with one strong hand, keeping me still while he works me slow and steady, tongue dragging up my shaft, lips sealing tight around the head.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, shaking, my eyes squeezing shut.
“No,” he says when he pulls back, lips wet, voice rough. “Eyes open, Caleb. Don’t hide from me. You’re too fucking beautiful like this.”
I force myself to look, and the sight of him—mouth slick, eyes burning—nearly undoes me.
When he pulls away completely, I whimper, the loss sharp. But then he’s reaching for the lube on the nightstand like he’s planned this.
“Spread your legs,” he says softly. Not a demand—an invitation.
My whole body flushes, but I obey. The cool air against my skin makes me shiver.
“Good boy,” he praises, slicking his fingers. “Now breathe. I’ll go slow.”
The first press of his finger is foreign and stretching, but his free hand never leaves me—stroking my thigh, rubbing circles on my hip, keeping me tethered to him.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, easing deeper. “So fucking tight, Caleb. But you’re gonna take me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, breathless. “I want it—I want you.”
Another finger joins the first, the stretch sharper this time. I whimper, but his hand finds mine, lacing our fingers together.
“That’s it. Squeeze my hand. Don’t hold your breath, you need to breathe. You have no idea how sexy you are like this. I’m so hard right now, and I can’t wait to be inside you.”
The word "sexy" makes my throat ache. I blink hard, but the tears still come.
Miguel notices instantly. He stills, leaning over me. “Hey. Talk to me. Is it too much?”
I shake my head quickly, tears spilling. “No—it’s not that. I just… I’ve never felt—” My voice breaks. “Like I was enough. And you—you’re making me feel like I am.”
His expression softens, a crack in his usual sharp grin. He presses his forehead to mine, whispering, “That’s because you are enough. You’re everything to me. Always have been, Caleb. For years I’ve kept it to myself and now we’re here. Never think you aren’t enough for me.”
The words wreck me. I choke on a sob, clinging to him as he presses a third finger into me, stretching me open with endless patience. It’s almost too much, but it’s his voice that keeps me grounded.
“Breathe, baby. You’re ready. You’re so ready for me.”
When he finally lines himself up, I feel the blunt press of him against me and my whole body tenses.
“Look at me,” Miguel whispers, cupping my face. “We do this together. Slow. You can stop me anytime. And I will stop.”
“I won’t,” I whisper back, trembling. “I need you.”
He pushes in, inch by inch, and the stretch burns, every glide of his piercings sharp and overwhelming. I gasp, clutching at his shoulders, tears spilling again. But he doesn’t stop kissing me, doesn’t stop murmuring praise against my lips.
“That’s it. Fuck. You’re taking me so well. God, you were made for me, Caleb.”
Every word makes it easier, makes the ache shift into something fuller, deeper. When he’s finally all the way inside, I feel whole for the first time in my life.
My tears don’t stop, but they’re different now.
Not pain.
Not shame.
Just release.
Or is it relief?
Miguel brushes them away with his thumb, his chest pressed tight to mine. “Cry if you need to, little brother. Doesn’t change a damn thing. You’re mine. You’re safe.”
I nod frantically, sobbing against his mouth. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop—”
“Never,” he growls, moving slow and tenderly. “I’ll never stop giving you this. You’re everything to me. Every.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Kiss. “Thing.” Thrust.
And I believe him.
Miguel keeps up the slow pace, every thrust measured, his forehead pressed against mine like he’s anchoring me in place. The stretch burns, but the way he moves—the way he whispers to me—pulls me through it.
“That’s it, baby. Look at you. Taking me so well.”
Every word soaks into me, breaking something I didn’t even know was holding me together. I clutch at his back, nails digging into his skin, needing to feel him everywhere.
“Fuck,” I gasp, my voice cracking. “I—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His hand slides to my jaw, firm but gentle, forcing me to meet his eyes. “You can do anything with me. You’re stronger than you think.”
The pressure builds, hot and everywhere all at once, and I can’t stop the sobs that slip out. He doesn’t tease me for them and doesn’t pull away. He kisses me through every tear, whispering, “Beautiful. You’re beautiful, Caleb. Say it; say that you’re beautiful.”
“I’m not.” The words come out broken.
“Look me in the eye when you lie like that.” My eyes lock on his but I don’t repeat the words. Each thrust grows deeper, steadier, until the burn gives way to something sharper, brighter. My body shakes with it, my breath breaking into moans I can’t bite back.
“I’m not,” and the tears fall.
He growls, gripping under my thighs and pulling them up around his hips, hitting a spot inside me that makes me whimper. “That’s it,” he groans, his voice rough. “You feel that? That’s me. Filling you up, making you mine. Nobody else gets this. Just me. Just us.”
“Yes,” I sob, desperate, undone. “Just you. Only you.”
His hand slides between us, wrapping around me, stroking in time with his thrusts. The pleasure is unbearable, white-hot, shooting through me until my whole body arches off the bed.
“Such a good fucking boy,” Miguel rasps, his lips dragging along my jaw. “Come for me. I want to feel you lose it while I’m inside you.”
The words unravel me. I cry out, clinging to him as I spill between us, cum covering his hand and our chests, shuddering so hard I can barely breathe. My chest feels like it’s cracking open, everything raw and exposed, but for once it doesn’t scare me.
Miguel groans, his thrusts faltering. “Fuck—Caleb—” His body tenses, and then I feel the hot rush of him spilling inside me. His face presses into my neck, his breath ragged, his voice low and reverent. “Mine.”
We collapse together, sweat-slick and trembling, his weight heavy but comforting. My tears haven’t stopped, but they’re softer now, no longer jagged with shame.
Miguel kisses the corner of my eye, tasting the salt. “That’s it. Let it out. You did so fucking good for me, baby.”
I can barely speak, but I manage, voice hoarse and broken: “I feel… whole. With you.”
He smiles against my skin, his arms tightening around me. “That’s because you are whole. You always were. I just had to remind you.”
The house is quiet, but my brain isn’t.
I’m stretched out in bed, sheets twisted around my legs, his warmth radiating against my side. He’s already half-asleep, chest rising slow and steady, while I’m wide awake—staring at the ceiling, counting cracks in the plaster like they’re going to fix anything.
They don’t. They never do.
Because it’s not the ceiling keeping me awake. It’s me. My head. The endless fucking reel of every word, every touch, every moment that won’t stop replaying until it drives me insane.
“You’re beautiful, Caleb. Say it, say that you’re beautiful.”
“I’m not.”
“Look me in the eye when you lie like that.”
The memory hits hard enough to make me flinch. His voice was low and commanding, his hand on my chin, forcing me to meet his stare when I wanted to look anywhere but at him.
Because he knew.
That my head won’t let me believe it.
And he was right. I was lying. I lie every time I say I don’t want this, that I don’t want him. I lie to myself when I pretend I can just walk away. And maybe he can see that in me, the way I can’t stand up to him, the way my body gives me away every single time.
I roll onto my side, then back, restless. My chest feels tight.
Pathetic.
Addicted to him and the way he makes me feel.
I sigh too loud, and Miguel stirs beside me, his arm sliding heavy across my stomach, pulling me back against him. His voice is rough and low with sleep. “I can hear you thinking.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Go back to sleep.”
“Not until you shut that shit down.” His hand tightens, firm, grounding me in place. “Talk.”
I freeze. “I don’t… I don’t want to bother you.”
Miguel exhales, long and slow, like I’ve said something especially stupid. “You don’t bother me. Ever. Now talk, Caleb.”
My throat closes, the words sticking like glue. But the silence feels heavier than speaking, so I force them out. “…I can’t stop replaying it. All of it. The things you say to me. The things you do to me.”
“Good.” He’s so calm, so matter-of-fact. “Means it worked.”
I choke out a laugh, bitter at myself. “No, it means I’m pathetic. I can’t even separate what’s real from what’s just in my head.”
His grip shifts, fingers digging into my hip. “It’s real. Every word is real.”
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling again. “Even when you said I’m everything to you? You don’t mean that. You can’t.”
He props himself up on one elbow, looking down at me, his gaze shadow-dark in the low light. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean. You are everything. I don’t care if your head’s too loud to hear it—you’ll hear it from me until it sticks.”
My chest aches. I turn my face away, embarrassed at how much it hurts to hear something like that. “You’ll get tired of me. Everyone does.”
He growls, low and dangerous, and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he’s on top of me with his weight pinning me down, his hand on my jaw, forcing me to meet his eyes.
My breath catches. He doesn’t even have to raise his voice—it’s enough. He’s enough.
I swallow hard, voice breaking. “I’ll ruin this.”
“No.” His thumb strokes rough across my cheek, his tone softer now. “You won’t. You can’t ruin what’s mine.”
The words slice through me, sharp and terrifying. My head won’t stop, spiraling faster. “Miggy, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to turn my brain off. I don’t know how to believe you when you say things like that. When you look at me like I’m—” My voice cuts out before I say too much.
His forehead drops to mine, steady, unshakable. “Then don’t think. Don’t believe. Just let me hold you so you can feel it. That’s all you need to do.”
I break. The words slip out before I can stop them, small and fragile. “…Can you? Just hold me?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course I can.”
And he does. He pulls me into him, arms iron-strong, tucking me under his chin like I belong there, like there’s no question, no condition. His heartbeat is steady under my ear, his breathing calm where mine is ragged.
I want to argue, to fight, but his voice rumbles against my hair before I can. “You are everything, Caleb. Fucking everything to me. And I’ll say it every damn night if that’s what it takes.”
The lump in my throat nearly chokes me. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Because it is.” His hand rubs slow circles into my back, grounding me. “You talk, I listen. You break, and I hold you and put you back together. That’s it. That’s us.”
I let out a shaky breath, eyes burning. “You’ll regret this someday.”
“Never.” He kisses the top of my head, final and certain. “Now shut up and go to sleep. I’ve got you.”
And I believe him, just for a moment. Long enough for the noise in my head to quiet. Long enough for my body to unclench, my eyelids to droop, and my breathing to match his.
I fall asleep in his arms, still trembling, but safe.
Safe with him.