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Warm baths, light exercise, heating pads, cranberry juice, stretching, massages, lavender, chamomile tea... You’d tried it all. Nothing worked. The cramps clung to you stubbornly, dull but relentless. Not sharp enough to justify ibuprofen or acetaminophen, but just bothersome enough to steal your energy and settle deep in your belly like a weight.
So you gave in and curled up on the couch, eyes closed, a heating pad resting over your abdomen as the afternoon slipped quietly by.
“Lazybones…” Caleb’s voice startled your eyes open, you hadn’t heard the door as he arrived. “Chamomile, lavender and honey, should help with the pain.” Caleb smiled as he held a mug out for you.
“Gēge…” The soothing aroma of the tea filled your senses as you took the mug in your hands. “You’re home early…”
“I’m not. It’s past six… If anything I’m a bit late, pipsqueak.” He grabbed both your legs and sat on the couch next to you, placing your legs across his lap as he leaned back.
He helped you sit up enough for you to drink your tea. The warm liquid felt heavenly as it ran down to your empty stomach. Oh how you’d love to eat something sweet right now. Or anything, for the matter. You felt your stomach complain about the lack of sustenance as you took another sip of the familiar tea. And just as if he had read your mind, you look up and see Caleb holding a small piece of something brown and cakey.
“Open up.” He stated, giving you no other option than to comply as his finger brought the unknown food to your mouth. So you opened your mouth like you’ve done many times before, no questions asked. His fingers pushed the bite into your mouth and sat it on your tongue, only to caress your bottom lip afterwards. “Eating sweets it’s not always good while on your period. Yet a bite or two of some dark chocolate brownies to soothe your cravings shouldn’t do too much damage, right pipsqueak?” He winked at you, smiling as he grabbed a bite for himself.
As the chocolate delicacy melted in your mouth, you looked up at him in confused surprise. “How… How did you know-”
“You get your period monthly, don’t you?” He interrupted you as he took another bite size piece of brownie to your mouth, and you gladly opened it to him. “Not hard to keep track…”
His calmness caught you off guard, but then again, Caleb had always been attentive. Always thoughtful in ways that felt effortless. And suddenly, it all clicked. The times he baked your favorite meals without asking, the heating pads that always seemed to appear at the right moment, the extra blanket waiting on the couch. Those hadn’t been coincidences. They were never random gestures.
He had known. He always knew. And he had been quietly preparing for your pain long before you ever said a word.
Your smile widened, looking up at him thankful for his attention, and he returned the smile to you, his eyes glowing as always. “Open up.” He said again as he fed you more of the brownie. “How's the pain?”
“Bothersome…” Your hand clenched on the now cold heating pad. “It just doesn't seem to get better with anything.”
His hands gently shifted your legs as he stood, careful but unceremonious, like he’d done it a hundred times before. He set the plate of brownies within your reach, then gave you a look over his shoulder. “Finish your tea, honey.”
His footsteps died down and you followed his instructions, drinking most of the tea then closing your eyes trying to relax.
Your body was lifted by, what you assume and was correct to do so, Caleb's Evol. His body warmth engulfed you as you felt his arms hold your back and legs, carrying you bridal style.
His tender and loving smile greeted you when you opened your eyes. Without a word, he carried you to the bathroom where the smell of lavender filled the entire room.
“What are you doing?” You yawned to which he responded with a soft smile. “I just took a bath.”
“Oh but this is not just a bath, it's gēge’s super special lavender cramp problem solving bath…” He said enthusiastically as he lowered you to sit on the edge of the tub.
You laughed at the nostalgic feeling. Back in the days, he'd always fill the tub with oils and salts to help you cope with your pain. You'd happily sink into the tub as he read to you from the other side of the shower curtain. Even when it didn't do much with the pain, it improved your mood quite a lot, and that was more than enough for you.
“Are you wearing a bra?”
His question interrupted your train of thoughts. A bra? It wasn't until then that you realised his hands were holding the hem of your shirt, the same one that was lifted half way up just before revealing your chest.
“Y-yes but I can undress myself,” You stopped his hands grabbing him by his wrists. “Thank you for the bath-”
Caleb lifted your shirt entirely off of you, cutting off your sentence. “Is it wrong to want to pamper you, now?” He chuckled. “Let’s put this on you now…” he muttered to himself as he put another shirt on you.
Once the shirt was on you, you realized it was one of his long shirts you steal from him every now and then to wear as a pyjama. It sat perfectly in your body and covered just enough so you would walk around before bed without a bother for pants. It was your favourite one.
Your skin shivered as you felt the usual tightness of your bra disappear as Caleb unclasped the back part of your bra over your shirt. His action surprised you to the point you did not react when you felt his hands reach under your shirt. His warm fingers ran up your side, slowly caressing your skin.
Your eyes met his, the air between the two of you was a mix of breaths and untold thoughts. His practiced hands unhooked the straps of your brasier, caressing softly the soft flesh over your ribs as he pulled the underwear down.
Time stopped for a moment inside that bathroom, you were too stunned to react until you felt his hands travel down to the edge of your pants and panties. You panicked and held his hands still, you were on your period after all and him pulling your underwear off would be most embarrassing.
“C-caleb…” You protested, yet he spoke up before you could continue.
“I’ll fetch the towels as you take this off…” he said with a playful smirk as he tugged your underwear to the side and let go of it. “Be right back, pipsqueak”
Caleb left the door open on his way out, but it mattered not. Before he returned, you quickly slipped out of your underwear and took a moment to clean yourself up.
Now, you stood at the edge of the bathtub, toes curled against the tile, feeling oddly small, like a child again, not knowing what to do.
“I couldn’t find your towels, so I’ll lend you mine if you-” His voice cut off with a laugh as he stepped back into the room and saw you. “Why are you standing there like a lost puppy?”
He set the towels down beside the tub, grinning. “Come on, get in. Or do you want me to carry you?”
You opened your mouth to protest, but before a word escaped, your feet were off the floor. His arms wrapped around you with infuriating ease.
“Wait- Caleb! Don’t-”
Too late. You were already cradled in the warmth of the water, his hands slipping away with practiced care. All you could focus on was the sound of his soft laughter and the way his smile lit up the room.
“Come on now,” he murmured, still chuckling. “Let me take care of my little troublemaker…”
You sank deeper into the water, the oils soaking into your muscles, easing away the worst of the ache in your lower back. Caleb knelt beside the tub, sleeves rolled up, his familiar presence both comforting and disarming.
"Is it still bad?" he asked, softer now. His hand hovered just above the surface of the water, waiting for your nod before reaching in.
You gave a small shrug. “Not as bad as earlier. Still sucks, though.”
Without a word, his fingers brushed lightly over your lower abdomen under the water. Just the weight of his hand, steady and warm. He'd done this before, years ago, back when cramps hit you so hard you could barely stand. It had become his way of showing up for you, wordless and grounding.
He stood and grabbed a hand towel, soaking it in the warm water, then folding it carefully before pressing it against your lower stomach again, using the cloth to massage the area. You exhaled slowly.
“Better?” he murmured.
“Yeah… Thank you.”
He gave a satisfied hum, then dipped his fingers into the water again, his touch brushing along the outside of your thigh, barely there. Goosebumps followed in his wake.
“You always go quiet when you’re in pain,” he said, voice low as his fingers traced slow, idle lines along your leg. “Makes me feel like I need to guess what to do to help.”
You kept your gaze on the tile wall. “You’re doing fine.”
“Only fine?” His voice dipped into something teasing, rich with challenge.
You huffed a quiet laugh. “Don’t start.”
But he didn’t stop. His hands moved carefully now, kneading your outer thigh with firm, practiced strokes that made your whole body ache. But not from pain. It was too gentle, too knowing.
The shirt clung to you like a second skin, and you were suddenly, painfully aware of how exposed you were beneath it.
“You’re so tense,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You always carry it right here…” His thumbs worked into the curve between your hip and your waist.
Your breath caught. “Caleb…”
“What is it, pipsqueak?” he asked, but his tone was anything but innocent. He leaned closer, his cheek brushing yours, his voice just above a whisper. “Do you want me to stop?”
You didn’t answer right away, and the silence between you said more than either of you ever had.
Finally, he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “Didn’t think so...” he murmured, smiling softly before trailing his fingers up to tuck a strand of damp hair behind your ear. “You know I’d never hurt you, right?”
You nodded, your heart too loud in your ears to trust your voice.
“Good.” he said, quieter now. “Because I’ll always take care of you. Even if you never ask me to.”
The warmth of the bath wrapped around you like a blanket, but it was Caleb’s hands, steady, knowing, that truly undid you. He stayed close, fingers working carefully along the curve of your hip, thumb pressing just right into a spot that made your breath hitch.
“You’re so wound up…” he murmured, his voice barely above the quiet splash of water. “You need to let go a little.”
You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Every word felt too fragile, too dangerous. So you stayed still, eyes shut, breath shallow.
Caleb’s hand moved slowly downward, fingers brushing the hem of the shirt that floated lightly against your thighs. He paused there.
“May I?” he asked, his voice was smooth, coaxing. Almost too careful.
You said nothing, but you didn’t stop him. That was all the permission he needed. His hand slipped beneath the damp fabric, slow and deliberate, your silence speaking louder than words. His fingers danced on your side as his hand teased his way up, then it stopped on your front, carefully keeping the shirt covering your most intimate part. The warmth of his palm resting low over your stomach. Bare skin to skin. It felt like nothing. It felt like everything.
You felt his gaze on you, steady and unreadable. You didn’t dare meet it.
“Still hurts?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost too soft to catch.
You gave the smallest nod, lips barely parting. “A little.”
He hummed in response, low in his throat. “Then let me help.”
His fingers shifted slightly, sliding just enough for you to feel the change. More deliberate now, more than comfort. Still gentle, still patient, but different.
“Caleb…” you whispered, unsure if it was a warning or a plea.
“Shh… Close your eyes, pipsqueak.” He leaned in closer, lips near your ear now, his breath warm and careful. “Just relax. Let me help.”
His hand shifted again, just slightly lower, under your navel. Still your stomach. Still innocent, technically. But close enough to make your pulse race. He was right there at the edge, playing with the line between care and… Something you dare not say.
“You’re shaking...” he whispered.
“I’m not cold.” you replied, your voice low.
That made him pause. His hand stayed where it was, resting warm and steady against you. The only sounds in the room were the soft movement of water and the uneven rhythm of your breathing.
“Should I stop?” he asked at last, though his hand didn’t move. “Tell me to stop.”
You opened your eyes and looked at him. He was already watching you. His expression was unreadable, careful, but his eyes gave him away.
And still, he didn’t pull back.
“Close your eyes, then.” He whispered “Let me ease your pain away…”
With a shaky breath, you complied, shutting out the world and focusing solely on the sensation of his hand against your skin. Your eyelids drifted closed, and in the darkness, you felt his fingers begin to move, sliding lower. Lower than expected. Lower than ever. Lower than allowed.
With no barrier between his skin and yours, each deliberate touch sent jolts of electricity coursing through your body, leaving a trail of tingling heat in its wake.
Then, with a feather light touch, his fingers finally made contact with your untouched flesh, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin.
A soft gasp escaped your lips, your eyes snapped open just to meet the damp ceiling of the bathroom. Then darkness followed as your mind focused on his caress, forcing your eyes to close again as he began to explore. His digits traced the sensitive skin with increasing boldness, the delicate caresses sent shivers of pleasure through you.
As Caleb's fingers ventured deeper, skimming across your bare skin, a sudden jolt of pain pulsed through your abdomen. The familiar discomfort of your period bloomed anew, a blunt reminder of your situation.
“Caleb!” you gasped, jerking slightly back and away from his hand, your voice small and breathless. “I’m… I’m…”
“Bleeding,” he said softly, finishing the thought you couldn’t bring yourself to say. His voice was calm, unfazed, and far too gentle. “I know.” And instead of pulling away, he pressed on, his touch remained steady, unwavering as his hand caressed your inner thigh back up to where it was before.
His reassurance was like a balm to your nerves, calming the panic that threatened to derail the moment. The knowledge that he understood, that he accepted this intimate, vulnerable side of you, sent a thrill of trust and desire coursing through your veins. You gazed at him, searching his face for any sign of revulsion or discomfort, but all you saw was deep, abiding affection.
“Gēge…” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of trepidation and yearning, yet holding onto the meaning of the nickname as if daring him to cross that line again. “What are you doing?”
He smiled, a quiet, reassuring curve of his lips. “Taking care of my mèimei... Just like always.”
With that, he resumed his tender exploration, his fingers gliding effortlessly over your labia. The pain from your period cramps still lingering in the background, slowly replaced by a growing sense of relaxation as he continued his slow caresses against your core.
Lost in the haze of pleasure, you barely registered the soft, encouraging murmurs falling from Caleb's lips. They were little more than a soothing melody, a hypnotic chant that seemed to resonate directly with your throbbing, aching center. For a moment, you forgot who he was, who you were. Each fuzzy word from his lips, each breath, was a whispered promise, a tender affirmation that you were safe, desired, cherished.
So you closed your eyes, allowing his warmth to seep into your body as he continued to touch you. The gentle pressure and deliberate strokes seemed to awaken hidden erogenous zones, each touch igniting a cascade of sparks that raced through your nervous system. Your hips undulated of their own, seeking more of the exquisite friction his hand provided. You felt his fingers probing even bolder, and the last of your resistance crumbled, replaced by a profound sense of safety and belonging. The gentleness of his touch belied the depth of his passion, each stroke a testament to the love and devotion he held for you.
Your breath hitched as he found a particularly sensitive spot, his finger circling the tiny nub with maddening slowness. The pleasure built steadily, layer upon layer, until you could barely think, lost in the intoxicating haze of sensations.
The water around you shifted with the motion of his hand, gentle waves blooming outward in time with each slow stroke, echoing the rhythm building inside you. You felt light, weightless, floating in a sea of pleasure that threatened to engulf you entirely.
With a strangled whimper, you reached out, your hand gripping on Caleb's wrist. Yet instead of stopping him, you guided his movements, desperate for the friction that would satiate your new craving. His compliance was immediate, his fingers responding eagerly to your demands as he worked you closer to the bliss. Under your guidance, Caleb's fingers moved with precision, the pads gliding over your clit with tenderness allowing that delicious friction built with each pass. Every nerve endings sang with delight, the crescendo of sensations reaching a fever pitch. Your abdomen tensed and relaxed in rhythm, each pulse of pleasure unraveling the pain that had gripped your lower stomach. The cramps faded, slipping quietly into the background, long forgotten as the new sensations took over completely.
Your toes curled and your thighs snapped shut, trapping Caleb’s hand as your orgasm crashed over you, a burning rush spreading from your core, searing through your limbs like fire in your veins. Your body jerked, hips twitching against his palm, breath caught in your throat as the pleasure ripped through you in pulses. For a moment, all you could do was shake, his hand still pressed between your legs, held there by instinct more than thought.
Then came the aftermath. Slow, trembling breaths, your muscles twitching as the high began to fade, leaving you dazed and aching in a completely different way.
Your eyes were only half open, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Not yet. Something about looking at him now felt too raw, too real.
Caleb slowly withdrew his hand, the absence of his touch making your skin twitch. But then his fingers brushed along your thigh, soft, slow and reassuring, a silent gesture that grounded you more than words could. He wasn’t rushing you. Just letting you breathe.
Checking in. Steady. Gentle. There. Like always. There.
As the warmth dissipated from your skin and your breathing began to steady, your eyes drifted downward catching the faint pinkish color in the bathwater. A quiet reminder that your body was still doing what it always did every month. Still bleeding. Still human.
Before the shame could creep in, Caleb shifted beside you, reaching to unplug the tub. The water began to drain with a low gurgle, carrying the soft tint away with it. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t comment. Just picked up the showerhead from its place and turned it, testing the temperature on his wrist before he, wordlessly, began to wash you.
He started at your ankles, working upward with slow, careful sweeps. Water slid down your calves, your thighs. You watched the path of his hand as he rinsed away what the bath had missed. The quiet, unbothered way he handled your body, like none of it startled or disturbed him.
Heat rose faintly to your cheeks, not from shame, but from the quiet vulnerability of being seen and cared for by him. Still, his touch never made you tense. If anything, it settled you.
When the spray reached your chest and neck, warm and steady, his hand slowed for a moment.
That’s when your eyes lifted to meet his, drawn not by discomfort, but by something gentle that passed between you, unspoken and familiar. He was watching you closely. Not with judgment, not even desire. Just that steady, patient gaze he always gave you accompanied by a small, familiar smile, the kind he gave only when words felt too heavy. Soft, steady, like an anchor.
“You okay?” he asked softly, voice low and steady, like he was asking about more than just your body.
You nodded, and that was all he needed.
He lingered just a moment longer, then lifted a hand to your cheek, brushing a damp strand of hair away with the gentlest touch. His thumb grazed your skin, not by accident, before he leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to your forehead.
“Finish up,” he said softly, voice low and even, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “I’ll be outside to help you dry your hair.”
Then he stood, carefully setting the still-running showerhead in its holder, the gentle stream left angled toward you. Without another word, he stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him with a soft click.
You sat there a while, the warmth of the water falling over your legs. Your fingers trailed absently through the dampness on the side of the tub, watching the drops fall.
The ache in your lower belly, that stubborn cramp that had clung to you all afternoon, was gone. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
Whatever just happened… It didn’t feel strange. It didn’t feel wrong. If anything, it felt like something that had always been there, just waiting to unfold.
It stayed with you, settling in the warmth of your chest, in the quiet ripples of the bathwater, in the way your body no longer ached.
Maybe it meant nothing.
Maybe it meant everything.
But for now, it was just between you two.
Yours.
And his.
Another secret, it seemed.