AppleCrow's daughter

The dimly lit conference room aboard the neutral station hummed with tension. Representatives from the Fleet sat rigidly on one side of the long obsidian table, while Onychinus operatives lounged opposite them like predators sizing up prey. Sylus presided at the head, his crimson gaze sharp and unreadable as he laid out terms for the latest arms deal. His voice was smooth, low, authoritative—every syllable laced with that signature dangerous charm.

Caleb sat two seats down on the Fleet side, posture straight, jaw tight. They weren't official. Just… convenient. Heat. Stolen nights that left bruises and secrets. Nothing more. Yet here was Sylus, the bastard, acting like this was just another power play.

Under the table, it started innocently enough. A brush of a polished shoe against Caleb's boot. Then again, deliberate. Sylus didn't miss a beat in his monologue.

"…and the Fleet will ensure safe passage through Sector 7. In exchange, Onychinus refrains from interfering in your little reconnaissance runs." Sylus's eyes locked directly onto Caleb's across the table, a faint smirk ghosting his lips. "Does that sound equitable, Colonel?"

Caleb's throat worked. He nodded once, forcing his expression to stay neutral. "Acceptable. As long as your people don't overstep."

Sylus's foot slid higher. The expensive leather of his dress shoe traced up Caleb's calf with slow, teasing pressure, then hooked around his ankle, pulling it subtly apart. Caleb's fingers tightened around the edge of the table, knuckles whitening. He could feel the heat of Sylus's gaze like a physical touch—those blood-red eyes never wavering, even as his foot continued its ascent.

The shoe slipped off. Stockinged toes—because of course Sylus would be this fucking precise—pressed firmly against Caleb's inner thigh now, rubbing in lazy circles. Higher. Closer. The ball of Sylus's foot nudged right against the growing bulge in Caleb's uniform pants, applying just enough pressure to make his breath hitch.

One of the Onychinus men was speaking now, some lieutenant droning about logistics, but Sylus kept his stare fixed on Caleb. Unblinking. Amused. His foot worked with wicked patience—rubbing, pressing, toes flexing and curling around the hardening shape of him through the fabric. Caleb could feel himself throbbing, trapped in the confines of his pants while the meeting continued around them.

"Problem, Colonel?" Sylus asked innocently, tilting his head. The foot stroked firmer, heel grinding down in a slow drag that had Caleb biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. "You seem… distracted."

Caleb exhaled through his nose, voice steady despite the fire racing up his spine. "Just considering the risks."

Sylus chuckled softly, the sound velvet and venom. Under the table, his toes curled tighter, rubbing with deliberate, filthy intent—pressing right against the sensitive head, then sliding back down the length like he was jerking him off with nothing but his foot. Caleb's thigh muscle twitched. Pre-come was already dampening his underwear. He wanted to grab that ankle and shove it away. He wanted to drag Sylus into the nearest empty corridor and fuck that smug look off his face.

Instead, he sat there, cock aching, face schooled into perfect professional detachment while Sylus continued discussing border protocols like he wasn't secretly edging his favorite Fleet toy in front of both their organizations.

"Excellent," Sylus purred, finally easing the pressure just enough for Caleb to breathe. His eyes promised more later. "I look forward to a… fruitful partnership."

Caleb's only reply was a tight nod.

He was going to kill him. Or ride him until he couldn't walk. Whichever came first.

The moment the conference doors sealed shut behind the last departing representatives, the hallway emptied. Caleb strode ahead, jaw locked, boots echoing sharply against the metal flooring. He didn’t look back. Didn’t acknowledge the tall figure who fell into step beside him like he belonged there.

Sylus’s low chuckle broke the silence first.

“Still pretending nothing happened in there, Colonel?” His voice was a velvet blade, quiet enough for only Caleb to hear. “Cute. You nearly came in your uniform while I was negotiating safe passage. I could feel you twitching against my foot.”

Caleb’s stride didn’t falter, but his ears burned. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” Sylus caught his wrist and pulled him into a narrow side corridor, pressing him back against the cool wall with one hand planted beside his head. “Then why are you still hard, Caleb?”

Caleb finally met his eyes, stubbornness written all over his face. “Meeting’s over. We’re done.”

Sylus leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of Caleb’s ear. “This is proper punishment, you know. For ignoring my calls. Three days, Colonel. Not a single answer. So I had to find other ways to get your attention.”

Caleb’s breath hitched despite himself. He turned his head, refusing to melt. “I was busy.”

“Busy sulking,” Sylus corrected, voice dripping with dark amusement. He slid a thigh between Caleb’s legs, pressing up against the unmistakable bulge still straining in his pants. “One of your men let it slip during that little intel briefing, didn’t he? Mentioned seeing me with a girl. Some pretty thing on my arm at the auction last week.”

Caleb’s jaw flexed. He looked away, cheeks flushed with a mix of lingering arousal and irritation. “Didn’t ask. Don’t care.”

“Liar.” Sylus’s hand dropped, palming him boldly through his uniform. He squeezed once, slow and deliberate, right where his foot had been tormenting him earlier. “You’ve been sulking like a jealous little boyfriend ever since. That’s why you ignored my calls. That’s why you sat there so stiff and proper while I played with you under the table in front of both our sides.”

Caleb’s hips jerked involuntarily into the touch before he caught himself. “We’re not—” He swallowed the rest, biting back a groan as Sylus stroked him firmly. “This is just sex, Sylus. FWB. You can fuck whoever you want.”

“Yet here you are, rock hard because I touched you with my shoe.” Sylus nipped at his jaw, crimson eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction. “If you had answered your calls, I would’ve told you the girl was a contact. Business. Nothing more. But you decided to pout instead… so I decided to remind you exactly who this cock belongs to during that meeting.”

His grip tightened, thumb rubbing over the wet spot forming on the fabric.

Caleb’s head fell back against the wall with a dull thud, breathing ragged. “You’re evil.”

“Mm. And you love it.” Sylus kissed the corner of his mouth, teasing, not quite giving him what he wanted. “Next time you ignore me, I won’t be so gentle under the table. I’ll make you come in front of everyone while you try to keep that straight face.”

He stepped back abruptly, leaving Caleb aching and untouched against the wall.

“Call me tonight,” Sylus said as he turned to leave, tossing a final smirk over his shoulder. “Or I’ll come find you… and the punishment will be much, much worse.”

Caleb stayed there for a long moment, chest heaving, cursing Sylus’s name under his breath.

The dim glow of the pendant lamp in Sylus's private quarters cast long shadows across the sleek black furniture. Onychinus headquarters was quiet tonight—unusually so. Most of the operatives were out on assignments, leaving the leader with rare solitude. Or what should have been solitude.

Caleb had been staying over more frequently these past two weeks. Ever since that charged night in the rain-soaked alley where Sylus had finally pulled the pilot into a bruising kiss after months of veiled tension, sharp banter, and stolen glances. "Just started dating" felt like an understatement for whatever volatile thing they had ignited. It was raw, possessive, and surprisingly tender in the quiet moments.

Sylus smirked to himself as he poured a glass of aged whiskey, the liquid catching the light like liquid obsidian. Caleb was... different. Bright where Sylus was dark, steady like an anchor where Sylus thrived on chaos. The childhood friend of the Hunter who had somehow survived the chaos of Deepspace and ended up tangled in Sylus's web. Now he was here, in Sylus's bed most nights, wearing Sylus's shirts because "yours smell better, you smug bastard."

Sylus didn't mind. In fact, he reveled in it.

He set the glass down and headed toward the bedroom to change. Training had left him sweaty, his black tactical shirt clinging to his broad chest. As he pushed open the door, something felt off. The drawer of his dresser—the one holding his more personal items—was slightly ajar. Sylus's sharp eyes narrowed. He wasn't one to leave things disorganized.

He pulled the drawer open fully. Neat rows of his underwear—mostly black, some deep crimson, all high-quality and tailored to his frame—were there. But one pair was missing. The crimson ones with the subtle silver threading he favored for their... intimate nights.

"Hmm." A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. Caleb had been here alone earlier, waiting for him after a mission. The pilot had mentioned taking a shower. Sylus's mind raced, piecing together small oddities from the past week: Caleb's flushed cheeks when Sylus asked about laundry, the way he'd quickly stuff something into his bag before Sylus could see.

Curiosity—and something hotter—stirred in Sylus's chest. He wasn't angry. Far from it. A predatory grin spread across his face as he closed the drawer and waited.

---

Caleb returned from his own debrief an hour later, his flight jacket slung over one shoulder, dark brown hair tousled from the wind. At 6'2", he carried himself with the easy confidence of a man who piloted through protocore storms, but around Sylus lately, that confidence had cracks. Sweet, vulnerable cracks that Sylus loved exploiting.

"Hey," Caleb called out, kicking off his boots by the door. "Miss me? I brought those pastries from that vendor you like—the ones with the—"

He stopped short when he saw Sylus lounging on the edge of the bed, legs spread casually, crimson silk underwear dangling from one finger like a trophy.

The color drained from Caleb's face, then rushed back in a deep, mortified crimson that spread from his neck to his ears. His purple eyes widened, mouth opening and closing without sound.

Sylus's voice was velvet and sin. "Looking for these, darling?"

"I—fuck." Caleb's hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit Sylus had cataloged early on. "Sylus, it's not... I can explain."

Sylus rose slowly, stalking forward like the predator he was. He towered over Caleb even at similar heights, his presence filling the room. He stopped inches away, holding the underwear up between them. The fabric was warm—recently worn, perhaps? The thought sent a bolt of heat straight to Sylus's groin.

"Explain, then," Sylus murmured, his free hand gripping Caleb's chin, tilting his face up. "Why is my favorite pair missing from my drawer? And why does it smell like you?"

Caleb's breath hitched. Shame burned in his eyes, raw and unfiltered. He tried to pull away, but Sylus's grip was iron. "I... shit, this is humiliating. I didn't mean for you to find out like this. We've only been doing this—us—for a couple weeks. I didn't want you thinking I'm some kind of freak."

"Too late," Sylus teased, but his voice had dropped an octave, laced with unmistakable arousal. His thumb brushed Caleb's lower lip. "Tell me everything."

Caleb swallowed hard, eyes darting away. His voice came out in a strained whisper. "It started before we... before we kissed. Back when you'd let me crash here after missions. I'd see your clothes lying around and... fuck, your scent is everywhere. It messes with my head. Makes me feel safe. Wanted. I took one pair the first time as a stupid joke to myself. Then another. I wear them when you're gone. Under my uniform. It feels like you're... close. Like you're touching me even when you're not."

He laughed bitterly, the sound self-deprecating. "I'm a grown man, a fucking pilot who stares down Wanderers, and I'm stealing my boyfriend's underwear like some lovesick teenager. Pathetic, right? You can kick me out. Laugh. Whatever. Just... don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" Sylus asked, stepping closer until their bodies pressed together. He could feel Caleb's heart hammering against his chest.

"Like you're enjoying this," Caleb muttered, voice thick with shame. His hands fisted at his sides, refusing to touch Sylus. "Like it turns you on that I'm this desperate for you."

Sylus's laugh was dark, rich, and sent shivers down Caleb's spine. He dropped the underwear to the floor and cupped Caleb's face with both hands now, forcing eye contact. "Oh, Caleb. My sweet, shameless thief. It does turn me on. More than you know."

---

What followed was a slow unraveling.

Sylus backed Caleb against the wall, kissing him deeply, possessively. Caleb melted into it at first, then pulled back with a groan of embarrassment. "Sylus, stop. I feel disgusting right now. Let me go change or—"

"No." Sylus's hand slid down, palming Caleb through his pants. He was already half-hard, betraying him. "You're going to tell me exactly how you use them. Every detail. And you're not allowed to hide that pretty face."

Caleb's head thunked back against the wall. "You're evil."

"Guilty." Sylus nipped at his throat, sucking a mark that would linger. "Talk."

With a shaky breath, Caleb confessed more. How he'd slip into Sylus's crimson pair after showers, the silk sliding against his skin, imagining Sylus's hands. How he'd rut against the fabric some nights, muffling his moans into a pillow that smelled like the other man. How it grounded him after brutal missions, a secret talisman of the dangerous love he craved.

Each word poured gasoline on Sylus's fire. His cock strained against his own pants, aching. He loved this—loved that the composed pilot had this hidden, needy side reserved only for him. Shame made Caleb's cheeks burn hotter, but it also made him pliant, responsive.

Sylus stripped him slowly, savoring every inch of revealed skin. When Caleb stood there in just his stolen underwear—Sylus's underwear—the sight nearly undid him. The fabric stretched taut over Caleb's erection, a wet spot already forming at the front.

"Look at you," Sylus breathed, dropping to his knees. He mouthed along the outline, tongue tracing the silk. "Wearing what's mine. Stealing what's mine. You're mine, Caleb."

Caleb's hands flew to Sylus's hair, gripping tight. "Fuck—Sylus, please. This is too much. I'm so fucking embarrassed—"

"Good." Sylus pulled the underwear down just enough to free him, taking Caleb into his mouth in one smooth motion. The taste of pre-cum mixed with the faint trace of his own detergent on the fabric drove him wild. He sucked with purpose, hollowing his cheeks, one hand massaging Caleb's balls while the other held the silk aside.

Caleb's thighs trembled. Moans spilled from him, broken and ashamed. "I shouldn't—ah—want this so bad. You're gonna ruin me."

"That's the plan." Sylus pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting his lips to Caleb's cock. He rose, shedding his own clothes until they were both bare. Then he pushed Caleb onto the bed, face down.

"Ass up," Sylus commanded.

Caleb obeyed, burying his face in the pillows to hide. Sylus retrieved the discarded crimson underwear and draped it over Caleb's head like a blindfold, the crotch area pressed near his nose.

"Breathe it in," Sylus growled, positioning himself behind. He slicked himself quickly and pushed in, inch by inch, groaning at the tight heat. "That's it. Smell how much I want you. How much you drive me crazy."

Caleb whimpered, the sound muffled. His body clenched around Sylus, shame and pleasure twisting together into something intoxicating. Sylus set a punishing rhythm, one hand fisting Caleb's hair, the other reaching around to stroke him through the silk still tangled around his thighs.

"You steal from me again," Sylus panted between thrusts, "and I'll make you wear nothing but my underwear for a week. Paraded in front of the mirror while I fuck you senseless."

The words broke something in Caleb. He came hard with a strangled cry, spilling over Sylus's fingers and the stolen fabric. Sylus followed soon after, burying himself deep and filling him, marking him inside and out.

They collapsed together, sweaty and spent. Sylus pulled the underwear away from Caleb's face, kissing the tear-streaked cheeks gently.

"Still ashamed?" he whispered.

Caleb nodded weakly, but there was a small, sated smile. "Yeah. But... don't stop."

"Never."

---

The next morning, Sylus woke to an empty bed. Panic flickered briefly—old habits from a life of betrayal—before he heard the shower running. He padded over, naked, and slipped inside.

Caleb was there, wearing a fresh pair of Sylus's black boxer-briefs, the waistband low on his hips. He jumped when Sylus's arms wrapped around him from behind.

"Caught you again," Sylus murmured against his wet shoulder, already hardening against Caleb's ass.

Caleb groaned, leaning back into him despite the fresh wave of embarrassment coloring his skin. "I can't help it. You're addictive."

Sylus's hand dipped under the waistband, stroking lazily. "Then don't. Steal them all. I'll buy more. Or better yet—wear them while I watch."

Their second round started slow in the shower, water cascading over them. Sylus took his time, exploring every inch, whispering filthy praises that made Caleb hide his face against the tile. "So perfect like this. My little thief. So ashamed but so hard for me."

By the time they finished, Caleb's legs were jelly. Sylus carried him back to bed, wrapping him in a robe—his robe—and feeding him breakfast in bed like some doting crime lord.

But the shame didn't vanish. It lingered in Caleb's averted eyes during the day, in the way he'd blush when Sylus casually mentioned "laundry." Sylus fed on it like fuel. Every stolen glance at the drawer, every time Caleb "borrowed" something new, it ended the same way: Caleb bent over whatever surface was closest, Sylus buried inside him, drawing out confessions and orgasms until the pilot was a wrecked, beloved mess.

---

Weeks blurred into a new routine. Their relationship deepened beyond the initial spark. Missions intertwined—Sylus's shadowy dealings with Caleb's aerial support. In public, they were professional. Behind closed doors, the dynamic shifted.

One night, after a particularly grueling day, Caleb came home—Sylus's quarters felt like home now—to find Sylus waiting with a gift box.

"Open it."

Inside were custom underwear: silk, embroidered with tiny crows and pilot wings. Caleb's face flamed. "You... made these?"

"For you to steal," Sylus said, pulling him close. "Or for me to dress you in before I ruin them."

Caleb laughed, the sound watery with lingering shame. "You're never letting this go, are you?"

"Never." Sylus kissed him, slow and deep. "It turns me on knowing how badly you need me. How far you'll go. Makes me want to give you everything."

They made love that night without the underwear—raw, skin to skin. But afterward, Caleb slipped into a pair anyway, curling against Sylus's chest. Sylus held him tight, one hand possessively on his hip over the fabric.

"I love you, you know," Caleb mumbled into his neck, voice small.

Sylus's heart clenched. Rare words from either of them. "I know. And I love my shameless little thief."

---

As months passed, the stealing became a game. Caleb would "forget" items in his bag during visits to Linkon City. Sylus would "find" them dramatically, leading to heated encounters in hidden safehouses or the back of Caleb's aircraft.

One such time, high above the clouds in Caleb's private jet after a joint op, Sylus discovered a whole stash in Caleb's flight bag.

"Five pairs?" Sylus raised an eyebrow, holding them up. The shame on Caleb's face was exquisite under the cockpit lights.

"I was on a long mission," Caleb protested weakly. "Needed... comfort."

Sylus unbuckled him from the pilot seat, dragging him to the small cabin in back. "Comfort, huh? Bend over the console."

The autopilot hummed as Sylus took him right there, underwear pulled aside, the evidence of Caleb's obsession wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet. Caleb came twice, sobbing with embarrassment and ecstasy, while Sylus whispered how perfect he was, how owned.

---

Their first real fight came not from the stealing, but from Caleb's insecurity. "You only like it because it's weird," he snapped one evening, pulling away after Sylus teased him again. "Makes me feel like a pervert."

Sylus's expression softened—the rare vulnerable side he showed only to Caleb. He pulled him back, cradling his face. "No. I like it because it's you. Because you trust me enough to be weak. To want me that badly. It makes me feel human. Desired. Not just the leader of Onychinus."

Caleb searched his eyes, then kissed him fiercely. The makeup sex lasted hours. Sylus edged him relentlessly, making Caleb beg while wearing nothing but stolen silk, until both were exhausted and closer than ever.

---

By the time half a year had passed, the dynamic was woven into their love. Sylus still got insanely turned on every time—his cock twitching at the mere sight of Caleb rifling through drawers "innocently." Caleb's shame never fully faded, but it evolved into something cherished. A private kink that bound them tighter.

In the quiet afterglows, Sylus would trace patterns on Caleb's skin and murmur, "Steal whatever you want. My clothes, my heart, my soul. They're all yours."

It had been exactly twenty-three days since the breakup.

Caleb tried not to keep count. He failed every single time.

He stood in the familiar workshop, toolkit open, staring at Mephisto's tilted frame with the same mix of fondness and exasperation he used to give Sylus.

"Alright, you dramatic bird," Caleb said, voice quieter than usual. "What's wrong this time?"

Mephisto let out a soft, almost guilty caw as Caleb pried open the panel behind its optic. The crow had been "malfunctioning" more and more since Caleb walked out after their last fight -- Sylus shutting him out emotionally, Caleb finally snapping that he was tired of being kept at a distance like another one of Sylus's weapons.

Now here he was. Back again. Because of course he couldn't say no when the emergency code came in.

Up in the observation room, Sylus sat in the dark, replaying the latest Mephisto cam footage on loop. Caleb leaning close, talking softly to the bird like it was an old friend. The way his fingers moved with practiced care over Mephisto's chassis. That faint smile he still wore even though things between them were broken.

Sylus had watched it six times already.

He told himself it was just to monitor his asset.

He was a liar.

A new notification pinged. Mephisto had just sent a private log:

Engineer proximity: optimal. Boss currently rewatching footage again. Proceeding with Phase One.

Sylus's lips curved into a dangerous half-smile. "You're playing matchmaker now?"

Down in the workshop, Caleb gently closed the panel. "There. Good as new. Try not to miss me too much, Mephie."

The nickname slipped out before he could stop it. Mephisto fluttered its wings happily.

The second Caleb left the room, Mephisto deliberately slammed its wing into the workbench, knocking tools everywhere and triggering a very obvious thruster error.

Upstairs, Sylus chuckled low in his throat, eyes dark with obsession and something painfully close to hope.

"Keep breaking, little traitor. Just get him back here."

-------------------------------

Caleb was eating lunch when the second emergency alert hit.

Mephisto - Critical: Thruster + vocal processor. Workshop. Urgent.

He sighed, already standing up. "You're not even subtle anymore."

When he arrived, Mephisto was dramatically draped across the bench like a heartbroken widow. Caleb rolled his eyes but stepped closer anyway, tools ready.

"You were fine last week. Stop faking it just to drag me back here."

He leaned in, forehead nearly touching the crow's chassis like always. "I know you miss the old days too, but this is getting ridiculous."

Mephisto responded with a garbled, half-broken voice clip:

"...miss you... already..."

Caleb froze. That was his voice. From one of the old late-night calls with Sylus.

"You sneaky little --" He pointed the screwdriver at the bird. "Do not start digging up our old stuff."

The door slid open.

Sylus walked in carrying two coffees, expression carefully neutral even though his eyes immediately locked onto Caleb like he was starving.

"Caleb."

The air instantly thickened. Twenty-three days apart and the tension still felt raw.

"Your bird is emotionally blackmailing me with old voicemails now," Caleb said, trying to sound casual and failing.

Sylus's gaze flicked to Mephisto, who had gone suspiciously still. "He's been... proactive."

Caleb focused on the repairs, but he could feel Sylus watching his every move. When he reached deeper into the panel, Mephisto's wing "accidentally" flopped forward, shoving Caleb straight into Sylus's chest.

Caleb's hand landed on Sylus's shirt. Warm. Familiar. Dangerous.

For a second neither of them pulled away.

"You're still wearing the same cologne," Caleb muttered.

"You're still fixing my bird like you never left," Sylus replied, voice low and rough.

Mephisto let out a smug little click.

Caleb stepped back, ears burning. "Fix your own emotional damage, Sylus. I'm not doing it for free anymore."

Sylus's smirk was small but real. "Then I'll keep paying in coffee... and malfunctions."

He left, but not before brushing a thumb across the grease on Caleb's cheek -- exactly like he used to.

Once the door closed, Caleb glared at Mephisto.

"You're not fooling anyone."

Mephisto's optic glowed with pure satisfaction.

Phase Two: in progress.

----------------------------

The workshop felt smaller every time Caleb got called back.

This was the third "emergency" this week. Mephisto had gone all out -- both wings locked, main processor throwing error codes, and the cherry on top: a looping playback of Caleb's own voice from months ago, soft and sleepy, saying "Come back to bed, Sylus... I miss you already."

Caleb stood there, arms crossed, grease on his cheek and exhaustion in his eyes. "You're really pulling out all the stops, huh?"

Mephisto gave a weak, pitiful chrrk, optic dimmed like it was actually sorry.

The door hissed open.

Sylus stepped inside, coat sweeping behind him. The moment his eyes landed on Caleb, something sharp and hungry flickered across his face before he schooled it back into that cold mask he wore so well.

"You came," Sylus said, voice low.

"Hard to ignore when your bird starts broadcasting our old pillow talk." Caleb gestured at Mephisto. "He's been digging through archives like a jealous ex. Wait -- both of you are jealous exes at this point."

Sylus didn't deny it. He moved closer, stopping just short of arm's reach. Twenty-three days apart and the pull between them still felt magnetic.

Mephisto chose that moment to project another clip: grainy footage from its own camera of the two of them on the observation room couch half a year ago -- Caleb laughing into Sylus's neck while Sylus's hand rested possessively at the small of his back, thumb stroking slowly.

Caleb's face heated. "Turn it off, Mephie."

The bird instead raised the volume.

Sylus finally moved, reaching past Caleb to kill the playback. His chest brushed Caleb's shoulder, and both of them tensed at the contact.

"You think I enjoy this?" Sylus asked, voice rough. "Watching old footage every night because I'm too stubborn to admit I fucked up?"

Caleb let out a bitter laugh. "You pushed me away, Sylus. Called me a distraction. Said you couldn't afford weaknesses. Now your bird is playing therapist because even he knows you're miserable without me."

Mephisto let out an affirmative chirp, then dramatically powered down one thruster, forcing Caleb to lunge forward and catch it -- pushing him right into Sylus's space again.

Caleb's hand ended up on Sylus's chest. Solid. Warm. Achingly familiar.

Sylus didn't step back. Instead, his fingers came up to brush the grease from Caleb's cheek, lingering longer than necessary.

"I never stopped being obsessed," Sylus admitted, quiet and dangerous. "The only difference now is that my bird is forcing me to do something about it."

Silence stretched between them. Mephisto's optic flickered once -- smug and satisfied -- before it went dormant, pretending to be fully broken.

Caleb exhaled shakily, not moving away. "If we try this again, you don't get to shut me out when things get hard."

Sylus's hand slid to the back of Caleb's neck, thumb stroking the skin there. "And you don't get to walk away without fighting for it."

A small, tired smile tugged at Caleb's mouth. "Deal. But your bird is getting therapy. And I'm charging hazard pay for every deliberate glitch."

Mephisto's optic blinked once -- victorious -- before powering down completely.

Phase Three: complete.

Objective: ex-boyfriends successfully trapped in same room and forced to communicate.

"I'm done, Sylus. This isn't working. I can't keep doing this with you anymore."

Caleb's words hung in the air like a death sentence. He turned toward the door, bag in hand, heart hammering.

Before he could even take two steps, Sylus was on him.

A strong hand slammed into his chest, shoving him back hard against the wall. "Say that again," Sylus growled, voice low and lethal. "I fucking dare you."

Caleb shoved him right back, chest to chest, eyes blazing. “I said it’s over,” Caleb repeated, swallowing hard. “I’m leaving. Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. Just… let me go.”

Sylus laughed darkly, but there was nothing humorous in it. He grabbed Caleb by the throat, pinning him to the wall as their bodies pressed flush together. "You're not going anywhere."

They exploded.

Caleb swung first. Sylus dodged and slammed him into the opposite wall, mouth crashing against his in a violent kiss full of teeth and fury. Caleb bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Sylus hissed, grabbed a fistful of Caleb's hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat.

“You think you can just say ‘it’s over’ and walk out of my life?” His voice was low, venomous, and shaking with something darker than anger. “After everything I’ve done to keep you? After I burned cities for you?”

"Or you think you can just walk out after letting me inside you for months?" Sylus snarled, grinding his already hard cock against Caleb's thigh. "After moaning my name like a whore every single night?"

"Fuck you," Caleb spat, even as his hips rolled forward, chasing the friction. He shoved Sylus again, trying to get space, but Sylus used the momentum to spin him around and slam his chest against the wall, twisting one arm behind his back.

Caleb struggled wildly, cursing and panting. "Have you lost your mind?! Let me go you psychotic bastard—!"

Sylus grabbed Caleb’s jaw roughly, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You don’t get to leave me. Not when I know you’re lying through your teeth. You love me. You’re just scared.”

“I’m not your prisoner!” Caleb shouted

Sylus pressed tighter against his back, lips brushing his ear. "Keep fighting me, kitten. It only makes me harder."

He yanked Caleb's pants open with one hand while keeping him pinned. His fingers wrapped around Caleb's cock, stroking him rough and fast, thumb merciless over the leaking tip. The second Caleb started thrusting into his fist with a broken groan, Sylus let go completely.

Caleb snarled in frustration. "Don't you fucking tease me—"

Sylus spun him back around and shoved him toward the center of the room. They grappled again — pushing, pulling, grabbing at clothes and hair. A lamp crashed to the floor. Caleb nearly got the upper hand, but Sylus was stronger and more unhinged. He tackled Caleb onto the couch, straddling him, grinding down hard while Caleb bucked beneath him.

"You're mine," Sylus hissed between kisses that were more bites than anything. "Mine to fuck. Mine to break. Mine to keep."

In one swift motion, Sylus yanked the reinforced cuffs from his belt and snapped them around both of Caleb's wrists. He dragged the struggling man across the room and hooked the chain to the heavy metal ring in the wall, forcing Caleb's arms high above his head.

"There," Sylus stepped back, breathing hard, eyes dark with lust and obsession. "Now you're not going anywhere."

Caleb yanked viciously on the chains, muscles flexing, shirt half torn open. "Sylus. Let me the fuck down."

Sylus just smirked, slow and dangerous. He walked forward until they were inches apart… then stopped. He let his fingers trail lightly down Caleb's chest, circling a nipple, then drifting lower, brushing just above where Caleb's cock strained against his open pants. But he didn't touch it.

Caleb's hips jerked forward instinctively. Sylus pulled his hand away.

"Uh-uh. You wanted a breakup, right?" Sylus's voice was velvet and venom. "So now you get to feel exactly what it's like to be without me."

He leaned in and licked a slow stripe up Caleb's neck, then bit down hard on his collarbone, sucking a dark mark while his fingers teased along the waistband, never giving him what he needed.

Caleb growled, straining against the chains. "Touch me, you bastard."

Sylus chuckled against his skin. "Beg."

"Fuck you."

Sylus pulled back completely. He stood there, eyes devouring Caleb's flushed, chained body, slowly palming himself through his own pants while Caleb watched, helpless and aching.

"Look at you," Sylus murmured, voice dripping with dark satisfaction. "So fucking hard for the man you claim you don't want anymore. Your cock is dripping and I haven't even touched it in two minutes."

Caleb's breathing was ragged, hips twitching uselessly in the air. "Sylus… I swear to god—"

"Shh." Sylus stepped close again, just close enough for Caleb to feel the heat of his body. He wrapped his fingers loosely around Caleb's throbbing cock — barely any pressure — and gave one single slow stroke before letting go again.

Caleb let out a wrecked, frustrated sound, yanking hard on the chains until they bit into his wrists.

Sylus leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "The longer you fight it, the longer I'll keep you like this. Chained. Leaking. Desperate. Until you're sobbing and begging me to fuck you. Until you admit you can't live without me."

He stepped back again, eyes glowing with cruel hunger, and smiled.

"Now… let's see how long that pride of yours lasts, kitten."

Caleb yanked hard on the chains until the metal dug painfully into his wrists. "Sylus. Let me the fuck down right now."

Sylus only smiled — slow, dark, and completely unhinged. He stayed just out of reach, eyes dragging over Caleb's flushed chest, the way his cock strained painfully against his open pants, already leaking and twitching.

"No," Sylus said softly. "You wanted to leave. So now you get to feel what leaving actually means."

He stepped in close again. His fingers traced feather-light patterns down Caleb's abs, circling his navel, then drifting lower. He wrapped a loose hand around the base of Caleb's cock and gave one lazy stroke before pulling away completely.

Caleb snarled, hips jerking forward into nothing. "Stop fucking teasing me!"

Sylus chuckled low in his throat. He leaned in and licked a slow stripe up the side of Caleb's neck, then bit down hard enough to leave teeth marks. While Caleb hissed, Sylus whispered against his skin, "You're dripping all over yourself and I've barely touched you. Pathetic."

He dropped to his knees and blew a cool breath over the head of Caleb's cock. Caleb groaned, thighs shaking. Sylus looked up with those glowing crimson eyes and dragged his tongue in one torturously slow lick from base to tip… then pulled back again.

"Fuck— Sylus—!" Caleb's voice cracked with frustration.

Sylus stood up and palmed himself through his pants, letting Caleb watch every movement. "This is what you were going to walk away from. This cock that's ruined you for anyone else. These hands. This mouth." He squeezed himself and let out a low groan. "Say you don't want it. Say it while you're leaking like a desperate slut."

Caleb's head fell back against the wall, breathing ragged. "I hate you… I hate you so much—"

Sylus stepped in and finally gave him a proper stroke — tight, fast, perfect — bringing him right to the edge in under thirty seconds. Caleb's moans turned broken and needy, hips thrusting frantically into Sylus's fist.

Then Sylus let go.

Caleb let out a wrecked sob of frustration, chains rattling violently as he thrashed. "I'll kill you. I swear to god I'll—"

"You'll what?" Sylus grabbed his jaw, forcing eye contact. "Leave? You already tried that." He leaned in until their lips brushed. "Beg me."

Caleb clenched his jaw, stubborn even as tears of pure need pricked his eyes.

Sylus smirked and repeated the torture. Slow licks. Light touches. Bringing him to the edge over and over — five times, then six — never letting him tip over. Every time Caleb got close, Sylus would pull away and just watch him suffer, hard and aching and humiliatingly desperate.

By the seventh edge, Caleb was shaking uncontrollably, tears slipping down his flushed cheeks.

"Please…" he finally broke, voice hoarse and wrecked. "Sylus, please— I can't— I need to come—"

Sylus's eyes darkened with triumph. He pressed their foreheads together. "Who do you belong to?"

"You," Caleb gasped immediately, pride completely shattered. "I'm yours— I'm yours, fuck— please just touch me—"

Sylus finally snapped.

He freed Caleb's cock completely and shoved his own pants down. In one brutal motion he lifted Caleb's legs, wrapped them around his waist, and slammed inside him to the hilt.

Caleb cried out, back arching hard against the wall as Sylus fucked him with punishing force. The chains rattled with every savage thrust, the sound mixing with skin slapping skin and broken moans.

"That's right," Sylus growled, pounding into him relentlessly. "You're mine. Say it while I'm fucking you stupid."

"I'm yours— fuck— I'm yours, Sylus— don't stop—!"

Sylus gripped his hips hard enough to bruise, driving deeper, angling perfectly against that spot that made Caleb see stars. "You were never going to leave me. Never. I'd keep you chained in here for weeks if that's what it takes."

Caleb came first with a shattered scream, spilling between their bodies in thick ropes, his whole body convulsing in the chains. Sylus followed right after, burying himself deep and filling him with hot, pulsing release while biting down on his shoulder.

Even after they both came, Sylus didn't pull out. He stayed buried inside him, breathing hard against Caleb's neck, still half-hard.

"You're not leaving," he whispered, voice raw. "Not today. Not ever."

Caleb, exhausted and still chained, let his head drop onto Sylus's shoulder, voice barely a whisper.

"…I know."

Sylus kissed the bite mark he'd left, almost tenderly this time.

The penthouse was bathed in low amber light. Rain tapped against the floor-to-ceiling windows, a steady rhythm that only heightened the thick silence between them.

Sylus sat in the wide leather armchair like a king on his throne, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the side. His crimson eyes followed Caleb with predatory focus as the younger man moved around the open living space like he owned it.

Sylus had been watching him for twenty-three minutes

Caleb was in a black button-up that was far too open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to show toned forearms. He knew exactly what he was doing. Every movement was deliberate — stretching to reach a glass on the top shelf, bending slowly to pick up a fallen coaster, licking a drop of whiskey from his thumb while maintaining eye contact.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," Caleb said, voice light and mocking. He sauntered closer, stopping just out of reach. "Cat got your tongue, Sylus?"

Sylus's jaw flexed. He took a slow sip of his drink, refusing to rise to the bait.

Caleb smirked. He stepped between Sylus's spread thighs, close enough that his knees brushed the inside of Sylus's legs, but not touching anywhere important.

"I've been thinking," Caleb continued, tilting his head. "You act like you have me all figured out. Like one look from you and I'll drop to my knees." He leaned down, breath ghosting over Sylus's ear. "But we both know that's not true… don't we?"

Sylus's hand shot out and gripped Caleb's wrist before he could pull away. “You’re testing my patience tonight,” Sylus murmured, voice low and dangerous. “Keep going. See what happens.”

Caleb's grin widened. Instead of pulling back, he twisted his wrist just enough to turn the grip into something almost intimate, fingers brushing over Sylus's pulse point.

"Maybe I want to see what happens."

He stepped back before Sylus could react, leaving the older man's hand hovering in empty air. Sylus's eyes narrowed dangerously.

For the next twenty minutes, Caleb tortured him with proximity.

He'd brush past Sylus's shoulder while walking by. Drag his fingers lightly across the back of the armchair. Once, he even leaned over the back of the chair, chest pressing against Sylus's shoulder as he reached for a book on the shelf behind him, lips barely an inch from Sylus's temple.

"You smell good when you're pissed off," Caleb whispered.

Sylus's hand snapped up and fisted in Caleb's shirt, yanking him down so their faces were level.

"You're walking a very thin line," Sylus growled.

Caleb's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Then push me over it."

Sylus released him. Again.

Caleb laughed softly as he walked away, hips rolling just a little more than necessary. He could feel Sylus's gaze burning into his back.

The tension kept building.

Sylus tried to ignore him. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through reports, but his grip on the device was white-knuckled. Every time Caleb made a soft sound — a hum, a sigh, a quiet laugh — Sylus's eyes flicked up.

Caleb noticed.

He grew bolder.

At one point he stood directly in front of Sylus, slowly unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way, revealing the smooth planes of his chest and the faint trail of hair disappearing into his waistband. He didn't take it off. He just let it hang open while he stretched his arms above his head, back arching.

"See something you want?" Caleb asked, voice husky.

Sylus's throat worked. His eyes dragged down Caleb's body like a physical touch, lingering on the sharp cut of his hips, the way his pants sat low.

"Come here," Sylus ordered, voice rough.

Caleb took one step forward… then stopped. "Make me."

Sylus stood up.

The shift in atmosphere was immediate. He towered over Caleb, one hand coming up to grip his jaw, thumb pressing into his bottom lip. For a moment, Caleb thought he had finally won.

Then Sylus leaned in and kissed him — slow, filthy, and devastating. His tongue slid against Caleb's, deep and claiming, but the second Caleb tried to deepen it, Sylus pulled back just enough to keep him chasing. When Caleb grabbed at his shirt, Sylus caught both wrists in one hand and pinned them above his head.

"You don't get to rush this," Sylus whispered against his mouth. "Not after the way you've been acting."

Sylus let him go so suddenly that Caleb stumbled backward, catching himself on the edge of the couch. Then Sylus walked away, returning to his chair like nothing had happened.

For the next hour, he ignored him.

Every time Caleb tried to provoke him — stretching languidly on the couch, making sly comments, "accidentally" brushing his foot against Sylus's leg — Sylus simply didn't react. The silence grew thicker, heavier. Caleb's smirk slowly started to falter.

By the time Sylus finally moved again, Caleb was restless, thighs pressed together, cheeks flushed with frustration.

Sylus stopped right in front of him, towering over where Caleb sat on the couch. He reached down and slowly dragged his thumb across Caleb's bottom lip, pressing just hard enough to make his mouth part.

"You've been a fucking brat for two hours straight," Sylus said quietly. "Do you have any idea how close I am to bending you over and fucking the attitude out of you until you cry?"

Caleb's breath hitched, but he still managed a shaky smirk. "Then do it."

Sylus hauled him up from the couch in one smooth motion, pulling him flush against his chest. "You've been teasing me for hours," Sylus murmured against his lips. "Now it's my turn."

He walked Caleb backwards until his back hit the cool glass of the window. Rain streaked down behind him. Sylus pinned him there with his body, one thigh sliding between Caleb's legs, pressing up just enough to make him gasp.

But he didn't move.

He just held him there, lips brushing Caleb's neck, occasionally sucking a mark into his skin, while his hands explored — sliding under the open shirt, tracing his ribs, thumbs brushing over sensitive nipples, but never staying long enough.

Caleb's breathing grew ragged. "Sylus…"

"Hm?" Sylus hummed, dragging his tongue along Caleb's collarbone.

"Touch me properly."

Sylus chuckled darkly. "You don't deserve 'properly' yet."

He spent the next twenty minutes driving Caleb insane with nothing but his mouth and hands. Kissing down his neck, sucking marks into his skin, palming him through his pants but never giving him enough pressure. Every time Caleb bucked or whined, Sylus would stop completely until he stilled.

Caleb nearly snarled in frustration.

Sylus pressed their foreheads together, breathing hard. "You wanted to play this game, Caleb. Now you're going to learn what happens when you push me too far."

He spun Caleb around, pressing his chest to the cool glass. Caleb's hands splayed against the window as Sylus pressed up behind him, fully clothed while Caleb was exposed.

Sylus ground against him slowly, letting him feel how hard he was. One hand snaked around to wrap loosely around Caleb's cock again, stroking in lazy, torturous pulls.

"Beg," Sylus whispered against his ear.

Caleb's pride warred with the overwhelming need. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Sylus slowed his hand even more. "I can do this all night."

Caleb's voice cracked. "Please… Sylus, please touch me. I need— fuck, I need you—"

Sylus rewarded him by tightening his grip and stroking faster, but still not enough to let him finish. He kept him right on the edge for what felt like forever — whispering filthy praise, biting his shoulder, grinding against his ass while never giving him the friction he craved.

By the time Sylus finally dragged Caleb's pants down, the younger man was trembling.

Sylus pressed two fingers against his entrance, circling slowly, teasingly, but not pushing in.

"Look at you," Sylus murmured, voice dark with satisfaction. "So wet for me already, and I've barely touched you."

Caleb's head fell back, a broken sound escaping his throat. "Sylus… fuck, just—"

"Just what?" Sylus pushed one finger in achingly slow, curling it lazily. "Use your words, sweetheart. Or are you finally learning to behave?"

Caleb tried to roll his hips, but Sylus pinned him down with a hand on his stomach.

"Please…" Caleb finally whispered, voice cracking.

Sylus leaned in, lips brushing his ear as he added a second finger, still moving torturously slow.

"Please what?"

Caleb's eyes were glassy, cheeks burning. "Please fuck me. I'll be good— I swear, just—"

Sylus hummed, clearly pleased, but he still took his time stretching him open, stroking that sensitive spot inside him until Caleb was shaking and leaking all over his own stomach.

Only when Caleb was on the verge of tears did Sylus finally pull his fingers out and push in, inch by slow, thick inch.

He fucked him like that for a long time — deep, rolling thrusts that never quite gave Caleb what he needed to tip over the edge. Every time he got close, Sylus slowed down or stopped completely, whispering filthy praise against his neck.

"You can take it," Sylus breathed, hips grinding in slow circles. "You wanted my attention so badly… now you're going to feel every second of it."

Caleb was a wreck — moaning, cursing, begging shamelessly — when Sylus finally let him come, stroking him through a devastating orgasm while fucking him through it.

Even then, Sylus didn't stop.

He kept moving, slow and relentless, until Caleb was oversensitive and whimpering.

"Still feeling like a brat?" Sylus asked softly, kissing the corner of his mouth.

Caleb could barely speak. He just shook his head, eyes wet, completely ruined.

Sylus smiled against his lips.