#zero on ao3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chiqelatasblog · 6 months ago

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Let Me Help You

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Part 4 of the Savior Series

Pairing : Bi-Han / Sub-Zero x Reader

Tropes : Married Life/Sex, Making Love, Restraints, Handcuffs, Blindfolds, Smitten Bi-Han, Possessive Behavior, Biting, Marking, Fluff and Smut, Blowjobs

Summary : “I didn’t know you had this side to you,” Bi-Han said, his voice neutral and his expression unreadable in the soft light of the candles and fireplace.

You nervously bit your lower lip, then, with an anxious voice, asked, “Will you let me?”

“To blindfold and handcuff me?” Bi-Han raised an eyebrow. “I told you I’m okay with whatever comes from you.”

This is a one-shot set during the time when the reader was Bi-Han’s wife (Noob Saibot before becoming a wraith), offering a glimpse into their relationship. It can be read as a standalone.

Author’s Note : This thought came over me yesterday, and I had to get it out of my system. It’s about the reader helping her husband *cough* relax in some intimate ways. Happy reading!❤️

“No,” Bi-Han said.

His tone, usually carrying a growl, softened as he looked at you. The hoarseness was still there, but now it was tamed, gentle—reserved for moments shared only between the two of you. You smiled at your husband, just a small smile, nothing grand. But you knew even the smallest smile from you was his weakness, though he’d never admit it. His gaze, however, betrayed him, softening and shining with a rare kindness that anyone could see.

When you smiled at him, looking into his eyes and tilting your head slightly, it was as if you saw him as someone who hung the moon—or, as he’d tease, like a lost puppy. You adored your husband, hard edges and cold demeanor included. It had taken you a long time to scale the walls he’d built around himself, but in the end, every effort was worth it. Bi-Han was a man who kept his distance, his tongue as sharp as a blade, capable of cutting deeper than steel. Yet, you had been patient with him, always respecting his need for space, never crossing his boundaries or making him retreat, waiting until he allowed you in.

It all began with small conversations at night. When sleep eluded you—your thoughts sometimes too loud to quiet—you would often wander the palace gardens, only to find him there as well, either pacing or gazing at the stars, lost in thought. His voice captivated you from the very first word—deep and resonant, like distant thunder. That first conversation lingered in your mind long after it ended, a memory that refused to fade. Bi-Han was undeniably handsome, with sharp, strong features and pale skin that contrasted strikingly with his ink-black hair. But to you, he was more than just handsome—he was breathtaking, especially that night when the full moon bathed him in its silvery light. His pale skin seemed to glow, outlined by the moon’s soft radiance, making him appear almost otherworldly, inviting you to touch it, though you knew well that he could snap your wrist like a twig.

After that some time, your conversations evolved into playful banter, and before either of you realized it, the banter turned into flirting. But it was you who made the first bold move—you kissed him. It was the Year of the Rabbit. While the Lin Kuei rarely held celebrations, they made exceptions for significant occasions like New Year’s to honor tradition. That night, it was just the two of you. His brothers had left for Fengjian with the others, leaving Bi-Han behind. Crowds, noise, and the chaos of so many people often overwhelmed him, though he never voiced it aloud. But you had come to know him well enough to catch the subtleties, the small tells that revealed his discomfort.

So, as usual, he stayed inside, sitting on the cushions near the fireplace after dinner. The sandalwood scent from the incense wafted through the air, soft, small talk exchanged between you, though your focus was more on him than the conversation. The golden light from the fire illuminated his strong features, making him appear almost serene in that moment. His usual furrowed brows were relaxed, his lips tilted in what you might call a ghostly smile, and his brown eyes looked warm, like dark honey. You were more than a little drunk, feeling light-headed and giddy as you looked at him, and all you could think about was how much you wanted to feel his lips against yours.

Before you knew it, you were kissing the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, your heart hammering in your chest like a wild creature. Bi-Han was surprised at first, perhaps by your boldness, and for a moment, you feared he wouldn’t respond as he stood rigidly in place. But then his lips moved—tentatively at first, gentle and restrained. It was a chaste kiss, and when it ended, he looked at you with a tenderness that made your breath catch. He told you he wanted to kiss you again, but when you were fully conscious, not drunk. He didn’t want to feel like he was taking advantage of you.

And now, a couple of years later, you were his wife.

“Please,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him with an exaggerated sweetness that almost made him smirk. “Why are you against the idea?”

Bi-Han looked away for a moment. You were sitting together on the bed, the fabric of the duvet brushing against your bare legs. This room was your shared retreat, a place where no one could intrude on your privacy. Here, Bi-Han could set aside the mantle of Grandmaster and simply be a man, your husband. Gently, you cupped his cheek, your fingers caressing his skin as you brushed a small spot under his eye. He caught your hand in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your skin as he met your gaze once more.

“I don’t like being vulnerable,” he murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. Your expression softened as his words sank in. Before you responded, you leaned in and pressed a light, tender kiss to his lips.

“My love, do you not trust me?” you asked softly.

Bi-Han’s eyebrows furrowed, a flash of hurt crossing his features, as if the question itself had offended him.

“More than anyone.”

“Then let me take care of you,” your voice as soft and gentle as a feather drifting down from the sky. “Please, Bi-Han.”

For days now, Bi-Han had been tense, like a bomb ready to explode. The tension around him was palpable, his frustration almost tangible. A vein would appear on his forehead or neck whenever something small and insignificant irritated him—things he would normally overlook, leaving them to be handled by his brothers or his trusted right-hand men. The role of Grandmaster was a heavy burden, one he had been groomed to bear from a young age, but even he was not immune to stress. Bi-Han was a man who never showed any sign of weakness. He was closed off, unwilling to seek help or express his needs—a locked box, guarded and secure. It had taken you an immense amount of time and patience to get him to open up to you. Even now, with years of trust between you, old habits died hard. This particular bout of tension had been going on for nearly five days, and everyone around him felt the strain. His brothers were as clueless as anyone when Bi-Han got like this—coiled like a predator ready to strike, every muscle wound tight with suppressed emotion. You longed to ease his burden. It troubled you deeply when he became like this, struggling to purge the tension from his system on his own.

Bi-Han looked at you, his gaze contemplative as his other hand slowly caressed your upper thigh, where your nightgown had gathered. The cool touch of his fingers sent a shiver of goosebumps across your skin. After a moment of silence, he sighed deeply, kissed your palm, and gently lowered your hand.

“Okay, do what you want, wǒ lǎopó,”

You flashed him a bright smile, your teeth visible as you leaned in to kiss him again. “Thank you. You’ll like it, don’t worry.”

“I’m alright with whatever, as long as it comes from you,” Bi-Han said seriously, his gaze unwavering as he looked at you with eyes that always seemed feline in their slant. In the low candlelight, his deep, rich brown eyes appeared almost dark, his entire focus locked onto you. Hearing such words from someone who was so secretive, reserved, and often harsh about his feelings warmed your heart and made it flutter, making you feel cherished and deeply loved.

With a swift motion, you climbed onto his lap. Bi-Han’s large hands effortlessly gripped your bottom in a possessive hold, pulling you close against him. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders and began to gently lay him back, or rather, he allowed it—there was no way you could have managed it on your own. “I want this off,” you said, tugging at his upper garment. “Then I want you to lie here exactly like this and wait.” Bi-Han complied silently, removing his clothes in one fluid motion and tossing them somewhere in the room. He had questions in his eyes but chose to remain silent as you slid off his lap and began to move around the bedroom.

Your footsteps were light as you walked across the floor, the small fire in the fireplace nearly extinguished, with only the occasional crackle from the wood breaking the silence. A short distance away, at the bottom of your wardrobe, you retrieved a small box containing metal handcuffs and a blindfold. Your heart beat a little faster with a mix of curiosity and anxiety about your husband’s reaction. As you turned on your heels and walked back to the bed, Bi-Han’s gaze immediately fell on the items you held. His eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of intrigue crossing his expression.

“I didn’t know you had this side to you,” Bi-Han said, his voice neutral and his expression unreadable in the soft light of the candles and fireplace.

You nervously bit your lower lip, then, with an anxious voice, asked, “Will you let me?”

“To blindfold and handcuff me?” Bi-Han raised an eyebrow. “I told you I’m okay with whatever comes from you.”

You were acutely aware of the trust Bi-Han was placing in you. He loathed even the thought of weakness, training his clansmen with such sterness that they often deemed him cruel for pushing them to their limits. Yet, he was even harsher with himself. The idea of being vulnerable, meant opening himself to potential danger—a concept he despised. This was a side of him he never showed to anyone, let alone exposed himself to potential risk in such an intimate way. By giving you this power, allowing himself to be handcuffed, he was placing his complete trust in you. He knew you would never betray that trust. To you, this act was a precious gift, one you would handle with the utmost care.

“Thank you,” you whispered again as you settled back onto his lap and carefully handcuffed him first. “I know these won’t hold you if you truly wanted to break free, but please keep your hands away. I want this night to be all about you.”

“You’re my wife. It’s impossible for me to keep my hands away from you,” he said, his words laced with a rare, bold honesty. You blushed at his words. Despite his usual reserve, when he did express his thoughts, he did so with striking directness. “You’re simply too beautiful, and I’m often amazed by how someone as kind and strong as you is mine. I can’t help but be drawn to you.” His tone was deeper than usual, almost whispery, as he looked at you with half-lidded eyes. His gaze was gentle, almost caressing you, but it also held a fiery, possessive intensity.

“Thank you for the kind words.” You kissed him on the lips again, letting your lips linger for a moment as you savored his icy taste. Then, pulling back slightly, you looked into his eyes. “Please, just try it for me tonight.”

“Alright, fine,” Bi-Han breathed out, his voice a low rumble. You kissed his cheeks in thanks as you began to secure his wrists with the handcuffs to the bed rail. Once his hands were restrained, you gently tied the blindfold around his eyes. You could see his muscles tense under his skin, reacting instinctively as his sight was taken away. To calm him, you placed soft kisses on his forehead and then his temples.

“It’s alright, my heart,” you murmured soothingly. “There are just the two of us here. You’re safe with me. Just focus on me and nothing else.”

Bi-Han exhaled again, his chest rising and falling beneath you, a thin mist escaping his lips and meeting the warmth of your skin. He looked stunning, his massive, muscular arms raised above his head, each muscle tensed and exposed. His body, honed by years of rigorous training, gleamed in the golden light from the flames, freckles dotting his chest and shoulders, and fine hairs tracing a tantalizing path down his abdomen.

You shifted down slightly, sitting on his pelvic bone. You could feel the hardness straining against the fabric of his pants, pressing against your groin, hot and firm. The sensation made you bite the inside of your cheek, and Bi-Han’s breathing became more ragged, betraying his growing arousal despite the minimal stimulation.

A soft chuckle escaped you, filled with fondness for the man before you. Pressing down a bit harder, both of you groaned openly. You leaned in for a deep kiss this time, and Bi-Han responded immediately. The kiss was slow and sensual, unhurried, as if time belonged solely to the two of you. Your tongues explored each other’s mouths, savoring the lingering notes of mint and a hint of wine from earlier. You kissed and sucked with deliberate slowness, your body rolling in a teasing motion. Bi-Han hissed when you gently bit his lower lip, and you soothed the bite with a gentle suck—both of you knowing it was more of a playful gesture than a true apology.

“You’re so good for me, Bi-Han. So powerful, so strong, and now you’re laying bare for me to care for you.”

Bi-Han tried to respond, his lips rolling in a restrained attempt, but you grounded him with your weight, pressing him firmly into the mattress. You shushed him gently when he growled in frustration. This was your moment of control, and you intended to make that clear. Normally, Bi-Han was the one in command, whether it was over the clan or in bed. He was accustomed to wielding control, having been born into it. But tonight, for a few hours, you wanted him to relinquish that control, allowing yourself to take charge. Your aim was to ease his stress and help him relax after days of mounting tension. It felt like taming a beast, one that responded only to you. Any hint of vulnerability shown to others would be met with a ferocious reaction, but with you, Bi-Han yielded, trusting you completely.

Bi-Han seemed to sense your unspoken words and complied silently. You gave his lower lip one last gentle suck before your mouth began a trail of kisses—starting at his chin, moving along his sharp jawline, and descending to his neck. There, you sucked lightly, leaving a mark that would be concealed by his collar when he wore it. Bi-Han groaned deeply, his voice a throaty rumble that vibrated through his chest as you continued to mark him. Your kisses traced the rigid lines of his abs, his skin smooth and unblemished like marble, sculpted to perfection and cooling to the touch. Though he was a cryomancer and his body temperature was normally colder than a human’s, as you worked over him, his temperature slightly warmed, becoming almost pleasantly cool.

You marveled at the sight before you, kissing down his well-defined muscles, your fingers tracing the veins beneath his skin with a curious, mischievous touch. Bi-Han shivered slightly at your exploration. You smiled at his reaction and began to unbutton the bottom of his garment as you slid down. As you worked, his clothes fell away, discarded at the edge of the bed.

His length was as beautiful as the rest of his body, standing hard and proud for your attention. The tip, flushed a deep pink, contrasted strikingly against his pale skin. The sight of him stirred a deep, primal urge within you, making your mouth water with the desire to taste him. Though his length was average in size, it was thick and impressive, a fact that promised both challenge and pleasure. You knew that taking him fully in your mouth would make your jaw ache and leave you walking with a delicious ache between your legs—a feeling you welcomed.

You began to kiss and nuzzle between his thighs, savoring the reactions you elicited from him. He always smelled clean, with a fresh scent reminiscent of falling snow, mingled with hints of mint and something earthy and rich. But here, in such close proximity, his scent was even more pronounced. Bi-Han exhaled a curse, his breath catching in surprise, likely expecting you to take him into your mouth or touch him, but not yet receiving that attention. Your smile widened at his reaction, noting the flush spreading across his pale skin. His neck, chest, and even part of his shoulders turned a lovely shade of pink as his arousal grew—a sight that was uniquely yours to witness, as you were his first.

Bi-Han was a strict man, deeply committed to his clan and himself, often neglecting personal pleasures in favor of perfecting his skills and fulfilling his duties. His self-denial initially surprised you, but it was understandable given his dedication. He had stripped away many of life’s pleasures to focus solely on his role as grandmaster. When you first met him years ago, he seemed more like a machine than a man. Despite his captivating presence, it took a long time for him to ease his rigid demeanor and open himself to the world. You believed that balance was crucial to life, a concept you hoped he would embrace before his self-discipline consumed him entirely. With your gentle demeanor, he began to respect and understand your perspective, a feat that was challenging to achieve with someone as resolute as him.

And now, here he was, completely at your mercy, savoring the attention you lavished upon him. The sight of him so utterly dependent on your touch warmed your heart as you finally took the tip of his length into your mouth, straining your jaw. Bi-Han groaned deeply at the contact, his head falling back against the pillow, the handcuffs clinking softly as he tried not to writhe beneath you. He was highly sensitive to touch, with even the smallest sensation making his breath hitch. Although he initially tried to mask his responses with a furrowed brow and an impassive expression, you coaxed him out of his shell, showing him it was okay to feel and express pleasure. Seeing him enjoy himself brought you immense satisfaction.

It took time to get him to open up to you, as with many other aspects of your relationship, but the reward was worth it. Even with the blindfold, you could see the pleasure coursing through him—his mouth slightly agape, a few drops of sweat rolling down his temples. Your hand wrapped around his length, while your other hand massaged his muscular thigh, feeling the powerful muscles twitch and spasm under your touch.

His taste made you moan softly as you guided him deeper, expertly bringing him pleasure. The sensation of having such power over his pleasure was intoxicating, mirroring how he had always known how to bring you pleasure. You wanted to savor this moment, drawing it out as you watched the tension gradually melt away from him. He appeared more relaxed, a prominent vein pulsing in his neck, and a sheen of sweat glistening on his body. His dark hair became increasingly tousled as he writhed and twitched beneath your touch.

The sight was arousing, your core aching and hot with desire. You wanted nothing more than to climb onto his lap and take him deep, rubbing your throbbing ache against him to satisfy yourself. You could almost feel him inside you as you continued to suck and lick him, careful not to graze him with your teeth. Tonight was all about his pleasure, so you tried to focus solely on him, though you could feel your own arousal intensifying. Even without touching yourself, you knew you were wet.

You licked slowly from the base to the tip, knowing that the sensitive head would drive him wild. His length was a throbbing, heated presence on your tongue, heavy and slightly salty, filling your senses and making your head spin with desire. You traced a thick vein with your tongue, then moved to kiss and suck on one of his jewels, eliciting a string of curses from Bi-Han. His chest heaving as he clenched his fists.

‘’Fuck, you’re driving me insane,” he said sharply.

You shivered with pleasure at his response, savoring the taste of his precum on your tongue as he cursed again. His muscles rippled, his back arching slightly to get deeper into your mouth. You moaned around him, the taste of his precum only intensifying your own desire. Unable to resist, you slipped your hand down to your aching core, seeking relief from the mounting tension. The sight of him, so vulnerable and responsive, heightened your arousal. When your fingers brushed against your lips, you whimpered around his length, your fingers becoming soaked within seconds. The sound of your voice drove Bi-Han wild, his growls growing more intense and feral.

“Are you touching yourself?” Bi-Han’s voice was a ragged whisper, barely coherent.

“Yes,” you moaned, your voice shaky as you responded. Two of your fingers slipped inside you easily as you continued to bob your head, soft moans escaping with each movement. Your other hand wrapped around his length, your motions in sync with the rhythm of your mouth. Bi-Han’s hips bucked, and he pressed his heels into the mattress, trying to resist the urge to thrust into your mouth, still respecting your wish with what little resolve he had left.

“Fuck, I don’t want to come without being inside you,” Bi-Han growled, his words coming out in sharp, desperate bursts. “I want you up here.” His voice was raw and primal, tinged with snarls and growls you hadn’t heard before. “I need—had to be inside you.” When he whispered your name at the end of his sentence, the way he uttered it made your resolve crumble. The intensity in his voice drove you to act.

You discarded your soaked underwear hurriedly, your hands slightly trembling with anticipation as a thin strand of saliva connected with his length. Positioning yourself over him, you guided his length to your entrance and, with one swift motion, took him into your warmth. A blissful sigh escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you savored the sensation. His thickness stretched you fully, and you took a few seconds to adjust to the fullness, relishing how completely he filled you. It was a beautiful sensation to be this full, chasing away the emptiness and connecting with him like this—body and soul.

‘’By the elder gods, you’re so wet,” Bi-Han bit out the words, his voice strained as you began to move slowly, your hips tracing lazy circles to adjust to him. Each motion pressed his balls tight against your pelvis, filling you completely. You braced yourself with both hands on his chest, lifting yourself up and down. Bi-Han was a groaning mess beneath you, cursing and hissing throatily as his hips bucked to meet your movements. You took him deep, your clit rubbing against him as you ground yourself on him, then lifted slightly before sinking back down.

“You make me feel so good,” you whispered, lying against him, your teeth grazing his pulse before catching his earlobe. “Do you feel good too?”

‘’Heavenly.’’ Bi-Han groaned. As you found your rhythm, you picked up speed, the pleasure intensifying with every stroke. Even without much movement, his length pressed all the right spots inside you, making you mewl and whimper. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure, savoring the fullness and the way every inch of him stimulated your sensitive spots.

Suddenly, Bi-Han’s muscles tensed. With a controlled snap, he froze and shattered the handcuffs. He tore off the blindfold with a growl, his gaze now fierce and predatory. His eyes were dark, almost black with desire, intense and focused on you with raw hunger, making your heart flutter. His hands grasped your bottom, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pulled you onto his lap. He began to thrust into you, his jaw clenched and a vein pulsing in his temple as he took in every moan and whimper from you. You clutched onto him, your nails raking down his back as he drove deeper into you, your breath coming in ragged gasps as sparks danced behind your eyes.

“You broke your promise,” you managed to say between moans, struggling to catch your breath. Bi-Han bit down on your neck, leaving a clear mark that anyone could see. It was a possessive gesture, and despite the pain, it only fueled the heat pooling in your belly. He licked the mark before responding, his breath chilly against your skin.

“I tried to hold back as long as I could,” Bi-Han snarled, his voice a harsh whisper against your ear. He lowered you slowly, deepening his thrusts as he positioned your legs on his shoulders, almost bending you in half. The sensation made you arch your back, a loud moan escaping your lips as he drove even deeper, your legs trembling with pleasure. “But it’s you we’re talking about. I can’t resist myself with you. You’re a sight to behold.” He pressed a tender kiss to the shell of your ear before his mouth sought out your neck again. “And mine.” His teeth grazed your skin, marking his claim on you once more.

The heat coiling in your belly spread through your entire body, making your head spin with pleasure. Bi-Han’s weight pressed you down, pinning you firmly as he kissed you deeply, moaning when he tasted himself on your tongue. His movements matched the fervor of his thrusts. You held onto him, doing your best to meet his thrusts with your own. His breath fanned over your neck and jaw as he pressed kisses, occasionally grazing his teeth slightly.

Bi-Han growled, his grip growing fiercer as his thrusts became more erratic and bruising, the sound of slapping skin echoing in the room. You were also reaching your peak, pleasure raging in your veins and with one, two and the third thrust you came, white hot pleasure make you almost blind and you clutched to Bi-Han hard, your nails digging into his skin as you afraid of being fly away as how much orgasm shooked you. Bi-Han followed you almost immediately, spilling inside you with a hot, molten rush that filled you completely. He stayed deeply embedded, his breath a cold contrast to the warmth of the moment, as he bit down on your shoulder, grounding himself as he came down from the height of his pleasure.

You both remained intertwined for a while, taking slow, deep breaths as you came down from the peak. You caressed Bi-Han’s hair, which felt as soft as silk against your fingertips. His dark locks were tousled, and his eyes, now softened, held a depth of emotion that spoke more than words ever could. The contrast between his cool, pale skin and the warm, golden light of the candles highlighted the beauty of his form, the sharp angles of his face now relaxed and content. You basked in the afterglow as he lavished you with tender kisses, dotting your skin with affectionate touches.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, your voice slightly husky and your palate dry from all the moaning.

‘‘Better,’’ Bi-Han replied honestly, lifting his head to press a kiss to your forehead. His eyes met yours, revealing a love so profound and fierce that it seemed to unfold before you like an open book. “I love you,’’ he whispered, his gaze steady and sincere.

‘‘I love you too, husband,’’ you responded, adding a playful lilt to the last word, which elicited a gentle smile from him.

“Wife,” he murmured in return, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “We’re going to do this again. This time, you’ll lie down while I take care of you.”

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zerodaytesttape · 19 days ago

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A younger Cal(12) and Andre(13) writing at the the infamous Kriegman summer house(SUPER LONG.)

Andre’s summer cabin is supposed to be a nice warm getaway, but he always dreads taking his shirt off to swim with the hot sun blaring down on his tan skin. His chest, a bit indented, the doctors say he has 'pectus excavatum', a label that makes him feel like a freak, even though it’s not incredibly noticeable. Cal doesn’t even mention it, which almost makes Andre feel worse because it’s like the problem is only in his head. He avoids eye contact when Cal teases him about jumping into the lake and stays hidden under a dark t-shirt and his arms crossed, pouring slightly. Andre has started to notice his skin breaking out, especially around his forehead and all down the sides of his hairline down to his jaw. It drives him crazy. He’s constantly scratching at his skin, trying to hide the redness under his bangs, but they are always jus.. There. There reminding him of his awkwardness. Makes him feel ugly. Cal, on the other hand, seems to have flawless skin, still, and it irritates Andre even more. The heat of summer makes it hard for Andre to focus on anything but the way Cal looks when he’s drying off by the lake.

He hates himself for watching, but he can’t stop. It's just an urge that he can't itch without doing it. The sun on Cal’s skin, the way the water drips down his chest, it’s too much, and Andre feels sick about it. They end up sitting on the dock together, legs dangling over the edge, and the tension is murderous. They're laughing, throwing insults at each other, Andre keeps stealing quick glances at Cal, feeling his heart race, hating himself for every second of it. Cal is oblivious, talking about some dumb joke or a new game he’s been playing, and Andre just nods, trying to focus on anything else but his friend. Cal’s voice cracks mid-sentence, and Andre can’t help but laugh. It breaks the tension for a second, and Cal shoves him playfully, calling him an asshole. Andre smirks.

Andre’s been told that he's growing fast, his legs stretching out longer every time he looks down, and he’s starting to slightly edge past Cal in height. It’s awkward for him, because he’s still figuring out how to move in his own body. Cal teases him, calling him “lanky” and “beanpole,” which makes Andre scowl, but he likes the playful attention. More often than not, every time Andre looks at Cal, there’s this weird, tight feeling in his chest, like something’s changing other than himself. He doesn’t understand it and it pisses him off. He’s supposed to be focused on more important things like summer and games and fun ideas and incoming school, but every single time Cal laughs or nudges him as a form of play and purposeful-annoyance, Andre feels his concentration slipping and he can't hold on. He isn't strong enough yet. They wrestle sometimes, like boys do, but now there’s this undercurrent of tension to it. Andre pins Cal down, his laugh crackly and high, feeling the uncomfortable heat between their bodies, and holds him there a second too long. Cal’s breath is hot against his cheek as he gets out words through giggles like "stop!" and "dre' get off of meeeee", and Andre pulls back quickly, trying to play it off like nothing happened. Cal laughs, but Andre’s stomach is doing flips, aside from feeling sick.

When they spend the night at the cabin, a room of their own, Andre lies awake, staring at the ceiling. Cal on the bottom bunk, snoring softly, and all Andre can think about is how close he is, even if Andre if all the way up on the top bunk. Even being in the same room with him makes Andre's heart cave. He hates himself for it, for wanting to be even closer in a way. It keeps him up until the early hours of the morning, his minds a mess. Andre lies quietly above Cal’s bunk, the light from the hallway creeping in, casting shadows across the room. He glances down at the bottom bunk, hanging off of the top slightly, the wooden rail pressing against his stomach, he watches Cal’s bare chest rise and fall in slow steady breaths, the rhythm of his snoring oddly comforting. A strange warmth spreads in Andre’s chest, something he doesn’t know how to deal with, something he’s not ready to understand. He feels like vomiting his guts out. His throat tightens as the words he’s kept locked away inside him bubble up like dirty heroin in a spoon, ruining his insides and pouring up into his mouth. He feels a burning sensation in his nose, the wetness rising in his eyes, but he forces himself to blink it away. He lays back on his bed, sinking down into the mattress. His hand shifts beneath his once-loose-at-the-beginning-of-the-summer-now-tight-at-the-end t-shirt, fingers brushing against the cold smooth surface of the necklace that hangs around his neck, a small Star of David, a relic of his faith. It feels hot against his skin, almost as if it’s pressing down on him, burning him, reminding him of everything he won't say, everything he will not let himself be. His heart pounds in his chest, and his grip tightens around the chain. The weight of the necklace around his neck is suffocating, like a cruel taunting reminder that he can’t let go go no matter what he tries to do, can’t give in to these disgusting feelings. He can’t be what he’s starting to realize he is. He feels the tears gather, but he won’t let them fall down his sun-burnt cheeks. Not here. Not now. He turns his head away, biting down on the sob that threatens to slip out, wishing he could be somewhere else, somewhere he wasn’t so damn confused. He slams his fists down onto the mattress and curses. He is dirty.

Andre shifts slowly, carefully, as though he’s trying to move without disturbing the fragile stillness of the room, although his mind is a storm. His breath is held as he quietly climbs down from the bunk above, the ladder as his aid, his fingers brushing against the wooden frame. The quiet creak of the wooden frame and the bed springs doesn’t seem to stir Cal at all, who continues to lay still snoring softly, a thin line of drool escaping from the corner of his mouth, his face completely relaxed in sleep. It’s almost innocent, the way Cal looks so unguarded, so unaware of everything happening just beside him. Andre kneels by the side of the bed, his heart racing in his chest, his breath catching in his throat. He stares at Cal’s face in the soft pale glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, his necklace burning at his skin as he stares deeper at Cal. The sleeping boy’s greasy blonde hair falls across his forehead, the steady rise and fall of his pale chest the only sound in the room aside from the quiet wind of the fan placed in the corner. It’s peaceful. Cal looks peaceful. But to Andre, it feels like something more, it's a weight in his chest, a burning sensation creeping under his skin and pouring out his pores. Andre can’t look away. He leans closer, so close now that he can feel the warmth of Cal’s bare skin, hear the soft sounds of his breathing, see the texture of his shirts, the snoring that somehow fills the room with a sense of calm. Andre’s stomach flips, his heart hammering in his ribcage like a blacksmith at work, a lump forming in his throat that he can’t swallow down. He wants to reach out, wants to touch, but he knows better. He knows what he’s feeling is dangerous in his eyes. His hand twitches as he brings his hand up just to rest it on the blanket, fists balling and un-raveling like he’s trying to hold back an urge he doesn’t even understand why hes feeling. He bites his lip to keep from making a sound, the heat in his face unbearable. His chest feels like it’s on fire, every inch of his skin tingling with an unfamiliar overwhelming sensation. His eyes fall to the curve of Cal’s jaw, the way the soft light makes his skin seem almost ethereal, and Andre can’t help the way his breath catches. He feels like he’s drowning, he feels weak, he wants to beat the overloving fuck out of Calvin and channel every part of anger inside if him then kiss his bloody lips, the world is collapsing in on him and it’s all because of this stupid stupid stupid feeling he can’t shake. He has to get away, but he doesn’t want to leave. He can’t stop looking at him. Andre slowly pulls away, so quiet, so careful not to wake him. His hands shake as he climbs back up to his own bunk, his heart still racing, his mind a pure tornado of confusion and terror. He curls up beneath his blanket, but the warmth from earlier still lingers in his chest, still burns beneath his skin. He clutches the Star of David around his neck once more, feeling its weight heavy against his throat. The metal burning his palms that he once wanted holding Cal's. It feels like a silent prayer, a pure needy plea for release he knows he’ll never get. But for now, all he can do is lay there in the darkness staring up at the ceiling, the image of Cal’s face burned into his mind like a secret he’ll never speak aloud.

There’s a game they play when they’re bored, it's throwing rocks at the lake, seeing who can hit the same spot the most times. It’s a dumb pointless pure-boredom-made game, but every time Cal gets it right, Andre feels this weird surge of pride. It’s stupid but it makes him want to smile.

They go fishing one afternoon, though neither of them really knows what they’re doing. Cal manages to get a fish after what seemed like hours, but Andre can’t help but laugh when it slips out of his hands and back into the water. Cal curses, but they both end up laughing, the moment surprisingly light between them. Andre starts keeping a bit of distance between them as the summer goes on. Not because he’s mad, but because being around Cal is making him feel things he doesn’t want to deal with. He tells himself it’s for the best, but it leaves him feeling more frustrated and lonely than before. Cal seems to notice something’s off, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he keeps up the usual banter, poking at Andre, trying to get him to engage. Andre plays along, but there’s always that tension, just beneath the surface, threatening to break through. Andre is afraid.

They bike to the corner store a few miles down the road, and Andre’s annoyed by how easily Cal can keep up. When they get there, Cal buys them both ice cream, and they sit on the curb eating in silence. For a moment, everything feels normal, and Andre lets himself relax. Just for a second. As summer winds down, Andre catches himself feeling a weird sense of dread. He’s supposed to be looking forward to the end of it, back to school and routine, but something about leaving the cabin, leaving these moments with Cal, feels wrong. He doesn’t want to think about why. They take a swim the last night before they leave. The water is cold, their skin even colder, th two boys just in boxers. Andre ignore his insecurities. Hes laughing, free. Cal is splashing around, trying to drag Andre into the deeper part of the lake. Andre resists, laughing in spite of himself, even his laugh cracks like his voice, and when Cal finally gives up, they sit on the edge of the dock soaked and breathless. Neither of them say anything, but the air between them is heavy with everything left unsaid. They look at the sky and try to catch their breath, they let out small spurts of laughter, they walk back to the cabin talking about fish and if they died in the lake, if anyone would know. Little did Cal know, something did die in the lake that night. Andre's pride. It was dropped all the way down to the lake along with Andre's necklace, it was loose and came un-done, sinking down deeper and deeper without Andre even noticing. The burning was gone, the weight was lifted.

The next day, Cal’s mom picks him up early from the cabin, and Andre feels this strange, sinking feeling in his stomach as he watches the car pull away. He tells himself it’s relief, but deep down, he knows it’s something else. Cal’s energy is almost too much sometimes. He’s loud, obnoxious, always moving, and Andre finds it overwhelming. But when Cal gets quiet, when he just sits there next to him, looking out at the water or staring up at the sky, Andre feels like he can breathe for a second. He likes those moments, even though he’d never admit it. Now Cal was gone, and Andre would have to go back to school with him like normal every day. He felt a yearning for the summer feeling he kept having towards his best friend, but he knew that it was best that it stayed away. Locked up, thrown far out into deep water like the rocks that the boys were throwing mere nights before.

A 13 year old Andre and a 12 year old Cal don’t know it yet, but in a few years, they’re 17 and 18 years old. It's April. They'll be leaning against Andre's car in the parking lot of their high school, the sun sinking into the distance behind them, casting everything in just shadows. Andre’s holding a camera, zooming in on the sky. He turns it toward Cal, who’s leaning against the car door, staring out blankly at the horizon. There’s a tension in the air, the kind that’s been building for years but never spoken about.

Andre focuses on Cal through the viewfinder. “You ever think about… what'll happen after all this?”

Cal doesn’t look at him, just shakes his head. “Not really.” He kicks at a loose piece of concrete with his foot, watching it tumble. “What’s the point?”

Andre doesn’t answer, just films in silence. The camera captures every detail, the way Cal’s face tightens when he thinks Andre isn’t looking, the way the wind messes up his hair, how he keeps shifting his weight like he’s trying to stay grounded. They’re both older now, taller, harder in the face. Everything about them seems sharper, like the world has cut away whatever softness they used to have. The boyish grins, the awkward laughs, they’re nearly gone.

Cal pulls out a horribly-rolled blunt, lights it, and takes a drag. “You remember that summer at the lake? When we were like… what, twelve?”

Andre shifts behind the camera. He does remember, all too well, but he doesn’t say anything.

“We used to talk about what we’d do, where we’d go.” Cal blows out a stream of smoke. “Seems kinda stupid now, doesn’t it?”

Andre lowers the camera for a second, his face hidden behind it. “Yeah. Stupid. Whole summer was stupid."

There’s a long silence between them, just the sound of the wind and the hum of silence. Andre knows Cal’s thinking about things, they both are, the same things they've been avoiding for months yet planning daily. About what’s coming, about how this might be the last time they’re like this, the last time things are calm. Two kids standing in front of where they'll end up dying, waiting for something they can’t name.

Andre brings the camera back up, zooms in on Cal’s face. “You ever think about if things were different?”

Cal looks directly into the lens, his eyes tired but focused. “No. I don’t. Because they’re not.”

Andre holds the shot for a moment longer, then turns the camera back toward the school. “Yeah… you’re right.”

They stay like that for a while, neither of them saying anything.

Andre looks at Cal again, and even after all these years, that same sinking feeling hits him. Just like it did back when they were just 12 and 13, back in that summer, before everything got complicated, before they knew where this would lead. It’s different now, heavier, like something he can’t shake, no matter how hard he tries. He hides behind the camera because it’s easier than facing Cal directly, easier than thinking about what it means, or about what’s coming.

They’ve kissed a few times since then, since that next summer when they were just 13 and 14, alone on the dock by the lake, the night before they left. Andre remembers how awkward it was, how they didn’t know what they were doing, just leaned in without thinking, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Their lips didn’t even line up right. It was messy, clumsy, Andre ran his hand up Cal's shirt, Cal had laughed, his breath hot and quick, and Andre felt like his entire chest was on fire. It felt like the world was ending right then and there, but in a way that made sense.

It didn’t stop there, either. Over the years, there were more kisses, more moments that snuck up on them when they weren’t paying attention. And every time, it was just as bad, messy, like they didn’t know what to do with their hands or their bodies, like they were still those kids on the dock, figuring it out for the first time. They never talked about it, not really. It just happened, and then it didn’t, and then it did again.

Now, it’s April. They’ll be dead in less than a month. May 1st. It hangs over them like a shadow, but they never fully bring it up. Andre still thinks they'll escape. Cal is smart enough for that, more detached, the date’s just sitting there waiting and Andre doesn’t know how to feel about it.

He watches Cal smoke, watches the way the green-ish colour burns down to ash between his fingers, and he feels that same horrible yearning he’s always felt. Like there’s something between them that he can’t quite reach, the weakness in his knees and the feeling between his legs, something he’ll never be able to say or full grasp. It’s been there since that first kiss, hell, even before that, but now it’s worse because they’re running out of time, and Andre doesn’t know how to deal with it.

Cal glances over at him, and for a second, their eyes meet. Andre feels his throat tighten, his chest ache. He wants to say something, but the words get stuck. He can’t. Not now. He swallows hard and focuses on the school again, on the sky that’s slowly swallowing the sun, and he wonders if Cal’s thinking the same thing. If Cal’s scared, or sad, or just tired of all this. But Andre doesn't know that Cal already knows about their fate, Andre doesn't even know it *will* be their fate.

The air between them feels like it did back at the lake those nights, heavy with everything left unsaid. It feels like they’re right back there, on that dock, sitting soaked and breathless, except this time there’s no laughter, no escape. Just the countdown.

Andre lowers the camera, holds it in his lap, and looks at Cal one more time. The sinking feeling is still there, stronger than ever, pulling him down, and he knows it’s not going away. Not until the very end.

“Cal,” he says softly, his voice low and full of feeling, but Cal doesn’t answer. He’s staring out into the fading light, his face unreadable.

Andre lets the words die in his throat, leans back against the car, and watches the last bit of sun disappear like the school is eating it whole, just like it did with their shared innocence.

#zero day #andre kriegman #cal gabriel #zero day 2003 #calvin gabriel #caldre #i love zero day #zeroday #fucking fags #i love them:(#this should probably be on ao3 and not here

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frommybedroom · 3 months ago

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inspired by this post

Even after he turns in his essay, he can’t stop. It’s not like he’s never written anything before, but those were the silly daydreams of a little boy with his head in the clouds, who dreamed of movie stars and damsels in distress. What he’s doing now is important. What he’s doing now is necessary.

On the third day in a row that he’s late to dinner—so late that Soda has to reheat his plate—Darry says, “What you been writing about, Pony?”

“Yeah,” Soda says, bringing the plate over and setting it down. “You’re always still up when I try to go to bed. I’ve had to replace the batteries in your flashlight twice now. Are you writing another story?”

Pony shrugs. Suddenly, all the words that pour out of him so easily onto the page get lodged in the back of his throat.

How to describe it to them? The urge—to not forget, to hold onto what was. To wring out the words and distill them into a watered-down version of his friends. Those measly words the only things left of Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston.

“Hey, Ponyboy, what’s wrong?”

Pony blinks, and Soda’s blurry face peers at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Darry scoot his chair closer to the both of them. Both wear matching expressions of concern.

“I just—” He swallows past the lump in his throat. “I just want to remember them.”

His brothers don’t say anything. So he keeps going.

“I—I can’t let them just disappear. They were here. They were real. And now they’re not. And I can’t let what their tombstones say be the only thing people remember about them. They were more than just a date.”

Soda leans over and ruffles his hair. It’s starting to grow out again finally, the natural dark roots beginning to peek through. “Don’t worry about that, Pony. You’ll never forget them. None of us will.”

“Yeah,” Darry agrees. “Dallas and Johnny were family, and family don’t—”

“I can’t remember what Mom’s perfume smelled like,” Pony bursts out. “I don’t remember what her high heels sounded like on the floor or the slight burning smell when she would curl her hair. And I try real hard to remember what it was like waking up and hearing Dad make coffee, but it’s gone. They’re fading. Like they were never actually here at all.” He clenches his fists, and there’s still a faint ache in his wrist. “I’m not gonna let that happen to them.”

He doesn’t tell them that sometimes at night, after Soda’s fully asleep and snoring like some dang bear, he sneaks out of bed and into the closet where they’ve kept Johnny’s clothes folded in a neat pile. Sometimes he holds them, brushing his fingers over the ripped jeans; sometimes he can’t bear to sully them. Which doesn’t even make sense because the shirt’s still got some of Johnny’s blood on it so it’s plenty dirty already, but he still feels like he’ll ruin it if he touches them too much or for too long.

He’s broken out of his thoughts by arms wrapping around him. A moment later, another pair of arms joins the first. And then he’s clutching onto Soda’s elbow and Darry’s forearm, and once again they’re all holding each other.

He wonders what this scene would look like to an observer: three boys in a rundown kitchen with grime caked under their fingernails and wearing clothes that don’t fit quite right. Unwanted tears escaping from tightly squeezed eyelids. A forgotten plate of food sitting on the table. No parents or friends anywhere to be seen.

He thinks they would see grief. And heartache and loneliness and pain. But maybe also hope. Maybe also love.

#AHHHH my first fanfic for this fandom #it’s 3 am but i couldn’t stop thinking about this post #might transfer this to ao3 at some point but for now it’s a ✨tumblr exclusive✨#my writing #fanfiction #this has gone through zero (0) editing #i wrote it and hit post #the outsiders #the outsiders musical #ponyboy curtis #dallas winston #darrel curtis #sodapop curtis #johnny cade #the outsiders fanfiction

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weirdhom0 · 1 month ago

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Ive been wanting to say this for SOOOO long and ik its probly gonna fall on deaf ears but the zero day fandom needs more au fanfic, like college au or record store au's bc im sick and tired of reading the same kinky fics where andre or cal touch eachother without consent. Like. Please stop writing the same thing over and over again im begging you. No shame to people that do write caldre freakytime you do you but I just wished there was more au stuff like the voltron fandom

#zero day fic #caldre #andre kriegman #zero day #zero day 2003 #cal gabriel #ttc dni #zero day au #alternate universe #genderbent #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

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theartistaslisalee · 2 months ago

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Reading some Subsmoke smut on AO3 has really rotted my brain, I can’t get enough of them as disturbing as it sounds! 😂😂😂. But it does keep me grounded in these uncertain times. Recently read one by @evilconcubinemk and I believe you can tell by this pic what the story is about. ��😜😜

#artistatwork #mortalkombat #fanart #mkkollective #art #drawing #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mk smoke #sub zero mk11 #scorpion #subsmoke #scorpsmoke #fan ships #smuts #AO3 #fanfics #fanfics are fun

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its-cosmerely-an-obsesh-wound · 3 months ago

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The Stormlight sweatshirts are done! 🙌

#puns and Stormlight are life #stormlight archive #cremposting #shardposting #cosmere #before anyone asks I have zero interest in selling these #they were just for *pun*#I might as well just (s)wear an ideal #I do actually *wear* the first ideal...it's on a tank top I made 😁#inappropriate use of vesture…not really but the phrase is close to my favorite ao3 tag #maybe I’ll write a fic about Adolin and Shallan pulling a Janet Jackson somewhere just to use the 'inappropriate use of vesture' tag #for my own juvenile amusement #Shallan being an exhibitionist is hardly a stretch #Roshar you ready for Stormlight 5?#it's the final countdown!#its cosmerely an obsesh wound

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civetfish · 1 year ago

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Nerd-to-nerd communication

Something super pointless and self-indulgent I've had on the backburner for a while. I love trying to make the pieces they gave us fit together!

Al-AN and Robin would absolutely bond over learning about each other's biology. I could talk about this forever but I'll get into all of the headcanons I have for these two in another post eventually

Below the cut is another version with some extra bits and pieces and the transcription

Transcript :

Architect Anatomy A. Architect "Brain" - Doesn't "store" information so much as allow for easy communication with the network B. Brainstem - connects the information received to the central nervous/circulatory system C. "Heart" - Circulatory system pumps the bioluminescent fluid to other organ systems and surface veins. Each node connects to a vast vasculature network D. "Kidneys" - Organs that filter the bioluminescent "blood" and other bodily fluids, absorbing and distributing collected material E. Nerve Center - Receives raw sensory data and filters it. Filtering can be unconscious or intentional

F. "Respiratory" Tract - Intakes gases or liquids and filters out material for use. Disposes of waste on exhale. Provides cooling to internal systems

The respiratory tract functions less like a set of lungs and more akin to a computer's cooling system, with the ability to absorb material from the environment to use in other parts of the body. It also would likely help the architect's body analyze the environment it is currently exposed to on a molecular level. It is also truly unidirectional, with the intake vents near the "collarbone" and the exhaust vents on both sides of the abdomen

The architect organ cache in-game felt like it was definitely not a complete model of the internal organs, so I wanted to come up with something to fill some more space. I also just really liked the idea of Al-An being capable of something similar to breathing, without having a respiratory system in the traditional sense. Feel free to use any of this in your own headcanons if you would like :)

BONUS - a gif of all the layers!

#EDIT - UPDATE IN THE REBLOGS #The skeletal structure of the architects cause me so much anguish #Ily al-an but your HIPS don't have JOINTS #This was so fun #I mention this in the keep reading but feel free to use this anatomy speculation stuff in your own work!#I want to get into more of my headcanons for how his body works but I might do that through writing. Ill link my ao3 if I do lol #subnautica below zero #subnautica #sbz #al an subnautica #al an #robin ayou #subnautica below 0 #al-an #spec bio #<< technically I guess #Do you think he sounds like an overheating pc when he's embarrassed #SMALL EDIT : HELLO?? I didnt realise Aci had made a video analyzing al-an's body and AUGH I WISH I HAD SEEN IT!!#He brings up some really good points and ideas abt his physiologyyyyy

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ao3-anonymous · 2 months ago

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Fastest Growing Fandoms on AO3 This Week (12/24/2024)

Every week I pull data on how many fics are in each fandom and compare to the previous week, then calculate the percentage increase to determine fastest growing fandoms. Since this naturally skews towards smaller fandoms, I have included the same data filtered to Over 1k, 5k, & 10k fics.

Overall:

Over 1,000 Fics:

Over 5,000 Fics:

Over 10,000 Fics:

Source: AO3 Fandom Dashboard

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bluehairedspidey · 2 months ago

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#die hard #die hard 1988 #die hard yaoi #meme crop #blog #merry christmas #pass the yaoi #i checked ao3 after rewatching the movie last night and was SHOCKED to find there were only FIVE john/hans fics and ZERO john/al fics #i gotta do all the work around here

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armyyoftwoo · 4 days ago

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andre x cal noncon fic

ive nvr posted a fic on here before pls be kind!! idk how to do the layout im too used to ao3.anywho,,pls enjoy

“stop squirming," andre hissed through gritted teeth, his hands digging into cal's shoulders as he tried to hold him still.

andre hadnt really wanted to do this, but it felt right. it felt like the natural progression of things. as if their bond had led them to this moment, to this intimacy that only they could share. and really, what did cal expect, sneaking over to andres house in the middle of the night?

"andre. off. get off," cal said, his voice low and even. but his body was rigid, his muscles tight as he lay on the cold floor of andre's room, his friend's weight pressing down on him.

cals resistence disgusted him. how could calvin not see the love that andre saw? andre's thoughts raced as he pushed calvin down, his knees digging into the hardwood floor. cal's eyes were wide as saucers, the blond lashes fluttering. but andre knew the truth. deep down, cal knew what he was doing, the way he leaned into him, the way he had looked at him tonight. he was fucking with andre. and andre was determined to make him quit it.

his trembling hands found the button of cal's cargo pants, fumbling with the cold metal. the sound was deafening in the quiet room, a stark contrast to the rhythmic throb of their hearts. it was like he could hear cal's pulse in his ears, a wild, erratic drumming that matched his own.

the zipper was next, and andre took his time, feeling the coarse fabric of the pants as he pulled them down, inch by inch. the sound of the teeth separating seemed to echo in the stillness. cal's breaths were shallow, his eyes flickering between anger and something else, something andre didn't dare to name.

cal's skin was cold and clammy beneath andre's hands as he pushed the jeans down over his hips, the fabric sticking to cal's skin. andre could feel the tension in cal's body, the way his legs were trying to kick out, to push andre away. but andre was stronger, fueled by the intensity of his emotions, the need to claim what he felt was rightfully his.

"andre. you're scaring me." cal's voice was monotone, devoid of its usual rasp or inflection. he was still as a statue beneath andre's weight, his eyes unblinking and eerily calm.

andres heart raced as he worked to free cal from the confines of his underwear. still soft, andre was dissapointed to see. it was a strange feeling, seeing cal's nakedness so openly, feeling his skin against his own. "im sorry, cal. don't be scared," he murmured, trying to gentle his voice. but the words felt forced, a lie that even he didn't quite believe. "cmon. open your mouth," he cooed, his thumb tracing cal's bottom lip. "just let me in."

cal just glared at andre, his body trembling. andre leaned down, his eyes searching cal's, looking for any sign of acceptance, of love, of understanding. he didn't find much of anything. instead, he shoved his fingers inside cals mouth, feeling the wetness of his saliva, the heat of his breath. he pulled them out before cal could bite down, and coated in spit, brought them down between cals legs.

his heart hammered in his chest as he spread cal's legs further apart, feeling the heat radiating from his body. andre knew that cal was a virgin, that he had never been with a guy before, and that made it all the more precious, all the more right. it was perfect for them. for andre to be cals first, and cal, andres. he spat on his fingers again before pushing one inside cal's ass, watching as the muscles tightened around him.

cal's eyes squeezed shut, his body tense as andre moved his digit in and out, trying to get him used to the feeling. "just relax, cal," andre whispered, his voice thick with desire. "you're good. it won't hurt if you relax. you know you wanna."

but cal didn't relax. instead, his body coiled like a spring, and with a sudden burst of strength, he kicked andre in the stomach with a loud grunt. andre recoiled, his eyes wide with shock and pain. the wind knocked out of him, he sat back, his hand coming off cal's body.

cal sat up, and andre hesitated, but the blonde made no move to get up, his eyes flicking from andre's face to the door, and back again.

andre shot forward, his hand coming up to slam cal's head into the floor with a sickening crack. the impact reverberated through the room, sending a jolt of adrenaline through his body. calvin's eyes squeezed shut, and he let out a pained yelp as his head bounced off the hard surface.

without hesitating, andre pushed himself back onto calvin, his hand snaking up to cover his mouth, muffling any sounds he might make. "shut up. my parents are upstairs sleeping. if you wake them, ill kill you."

with his other hand, he tried again to push his fingers inside, his movements more insistent now, fueled by anger and desperation. he knew calvin felt the same way, deep down. he was just lying to himself, playing innocent. calvin's eyes grew wider as he felt the intrusion, his body taut as a bowstring. but andre wasn't about to stop, after all, he was already this far in.

his hand moved in a steady rhythm, pushing and retreating, stretching cal's tight opening, his own breathing heavy and ragged. the room was filled with the sound of their harsh breaths and the quiet sound of skin on skin. cal's body was cold and shaking beneath him, his eyes staring straight ahead, unblinking.

"you're okay," andre murmured, his voice strained. "it's just me. i'm not going to hurt you. i just want to be close."

when andre deemed cal to be prepared enough, he withdrew his hand with a wet pop and reached down to free his own erection. it bobbed in the air between them, the head shiny with precum. his heart was racing, his blood pulsing through his veins, and he could feel the heat of his arousal like it was a living entity, demanding to be sated.

he pulled his hand away from cals mouth, wiping the spit on the carpet. his cock was throbbing, begging to be buried inside his best friend. "i know you want this," andre said, his voice hoarse and desperate. "i know it."

cal stared. "andre. you're not going to do this. you're going to get up and get dressed, and we're going to pretend this never happened, okay?"

that wasnt what andre wanted to hear. not even close. he grabbed a fistful of cal's shaggy white-blond hair and slammed his head down again, hard enough to make cal's teeth clack together. "stop. fighting. me."

cal's eyes rolled back in his head briefly, stars probably dancing in his vision from the impact. he gulped, swallowed a mouthful of blood that andre assumed came from biting his own tongue. he didn't know why cal was fighting it. and he didn't know why cals resistence just served to turn him on more.

his cock was rock hard, straining against his stomach, and he lined it up with cal's entrance, feeling the heat of his body, the tremble of his muscles. cal stared. his eyes looked empty, and andre would be lying if he said he didn't find it a bit offputting. but that was calvin for you, always so closed off, always so difficult to read.

andre groaned when he pushed inside of cal, feeling the tightness clench around his shaft. cal let out a muffled whine, his body jerking with the intrusion. andre's eyes rolled back in his head, the feeling was overwhelming.

the pain was written all over cal's face, his eyes watering and nose scrunched up like he was about to cry. but andre didn't stop. he couldn't. this was what they were meant to be. this was what they were meant to do. and cal knew it. he had always known it. it had all led up to this, every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every fucking thing that had ever happened between them.

as andre thrust into cal, he felt a strange mix of pleasure and anger. pleasure at the feel of cal's body around him, anger at the way cal was fighting him. but it was a good anger. it was an anger that fueled him, that made him feel alive. he hoped calvin could feel it too.

cal grunted with each thrust, his face a mask of pain, but his eyes were eerily calm. it was like he was somewhere else, somewhere far away from this room, this moment. andre watched him closely, searching for any sign that he was enjoying it, any indication that this was what he truly wanted. but all he saw was a blank stare, unsettling in its emptiness. but that was calvin. that was always fucking calvin.

so andre slammed cal's head back down again, his grip on his hair tightening until cal let out a little yelp. "act like a fucking human for once," andre hissed, his voice strained with the effort of keeping his own emotions in check. "fuck, i know you want this. you're just playing hard to get."

cal's eyes snapped back to focus on andre's face, and for a moment, there was a flash of something in them that andre couldn't quite pinpoint. anger? sadness? betrayal? but it was gone as quickly as it had come, and cal's body went limp beneath him. it was like he had given up, accepted his fate. and that just made andre want him more.

he wondered if this was what normal boys his age felt like with girls. probably not. normal boys didn’t force themselves on anyone. but andre wasn’t normal. cal knew that. and deep down, cal knew he wasn’t normal either. so maybe this was normal for them. the thought was comforting.

his hips stuttered, and he felt the warmth spurt inside cal. it was over so fast that it was almost embarrassing. he half expected cal to make some sort of snide remark, but instead, cal just lay there, unmoving, his eyes wide open.

andre pulled out and slumped beside cal, his breathing ragged and his chest heaving. the silence was deafening, the only sound the distant hum of a cricket outside. cal's body was still trembling slightly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. andre didn't know what to say, but the silence was suffocating him.

"see, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he tried to joke, but his voice cracked. the words hung in the air, unanswered. cal's eyes remained on the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. andre reached out and touched his arm, feeling the goosebumps that had formed on his cold, clammy skin. "cal?"

calvin turned to look at him, his eyes clear of any emotion, his voice cold and hard. "you disgust me, andre." the words were like a slap across the face, and andre felt his cheeks burn. "you're filthy. fuckin' faggot."

the statement was like a knife to andre's gut, twisting and turning, ripping him apart from the inside out. but instead of anger, he felt a strange mix of pain and relief. finally, cal was saying what andre had always feared he thought. it was out in the open now. no more pretending.

andre sat up, his cock already softening, and put himself back in his pants. "i'll drive you home," he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. like it didn't belong to him.

cal's eyes didn't leave the ceiling. "no," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "i'll stay here."

andre's heart skipped a beat. he hadn't expected that. "are you sure?"

cal nodded, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. "yes."

andre felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. on one hand, cal was staying, which meant maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t completely ruined things. on the other, the coldness in cal's voice was like a slap in the face. but he didn’t dare push it. instead, he got up and grabbed a blanket from his bed, tossing it over cal's shaking form. "are you okay?" he asked tentatively.

cal's eyes remained on the ceiling, not moving an inch. "no," he said, his voice flat. "but i'll live."

with that, calvin sat up and grabbed his pants, pulling them up with shaking hands. andre watched him, feeling a strange sense of detachment, like he was watching a scene unfold in a movie rather than living it himself. the fabric slid over cal's hips, the material cold against his skin, sticking slightly to his wet thighs. the act was jerky and mechanical, like a robot trying to mimic human movements.

cal didn't bother with his underwear, leaving it in a crumpled mess on the floor. andre noticed the blood soaking through the fabric of his pants and the way it was matting his shaggy hair, sticking it to the back of his head. the sight should have made him feel something—guilt, remorse, disgust—but all he felt was a dull ache, a gaping hole where those feelings should have been.

he watched as cal stumbled to his feet, his legs wobbly like a newborn deer's. "are you okay?" andre asked again, his voice sounding more like a stranger's than his own.

cal just looked at him, his blue eyes glazed over with something unreadable. "yeah," he said finally, his voice hollow. "i just need...i need to lie down. can we watch a movie?"

andre felt his heart drop into his stomach, but he nodded, eager to do anything to make things right. "yeah, of course. whatever you want." he jumped to his feet and grabbed the remote. "what movie?"

cal's eyes never left the floor. "scream."

usually, andre would complain about cal's choice of movies, but tonight, he didn't have the energy. instead, he just nodded and turned on the TV, scrolling through the list of available titles. when he found 'scream', he selected it and tossed the remote onto the bed.

cal walked over to the bed and sat down, his movements stiff and deliberate. andre sat beside him, leaving a respectful gap between them. the room felt like it was closing in around them, the air thick with the scent of sex and regret.

the movie started, the sound of the opening credits filling the room. calvin didn't move, his eyes staring straight ahead as the movie unfolded on the screen. andre wanted to vomit. everything was fucked up now. he had wanted this, had dreamt of it, had fantasized about it for so long, and now it was a mess. cal was acting like andre was a stranger.

fuck.

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