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“Linkon City Apartments, how can we help you?”

When you hear the clipped, low-energy tone, you brace yourself. The person on the other end is your least favorite front desk employee, and you just know you're about to feel really stupid in a minute.

“Um, hi - I’m having an issue with my… eh - my electricity? Could I maybe speak to someone from maintenance?”

The slight, almost inaudible groan from the other end is unmistakable. 

“Name and apartment number?”

You rattle the information off, and there’s a pause, like a little moment of recognition. She definitely knows who you are and how many times you have called for trivial things. You’re beginning to think this is a bad idea.

“I won’t ask you what the issue is directly, as we’re very busy, but I’ll transfer you to the maintenance team.”

You feel a weight off your shoulders and do a little shimmy in the silent victory of not having to belabor the conversation between yourself and the ‘mean front desk lady.’ You hear the extension numbers, followed by a ringing sound confirming your connection. It only takes a moment for someone to answer you.

“Gideon, Maintenance Staff. Is this the call regarding apartment 314?”

“Yes, that’s me. I hate to bother you with something so small, but I seem to be having an issue with a lightbulb. I’ve gone to the hardware store multiple times, and I’ve looked at the sizes and wattages, so I know I have the correct ones, but it still isn’t lighting up, and it’s in kind of a big part of my kitchen.”

“A… lightbulb?” Gideon asks, clearly a little confused as to why you’re calling about something so small.

“Yeah, I know it’s kind of a strange thing to ask about, but I really wouldn’t be calling if I had anyone to help me figure it out. I live alone and don’t have family close, so I’m sort of learning all of this stuff for the first time.”

“Okay, yeah, it’s fine, that’s what we’re here for. I can’t promise we’ll get to it today, but I’ll submit a work ticket, and after the higher-priority items have been resolved, one of us will come help you out. It’s just the one lightbulb, right? You’ve still got electricity, and you can still go about your day with little to no issues?”

“Yeah,” You feel yourself cringing, worried that you sound like an incapable idiot. “Just the one.”

The sounds of a keyboard clacking fill the silence, along with the pleasant sound of hums from Gideon’s low, gravelly voice. It’s almost soothing and helps alleviate the anxiety you feel about being a nuisance.

“Great, ticket submitted. It’ll probably be Caleb or me, so just expect us to be there either a little later today or tomorrow. If you’re going to be out of the apartment, that’s fine. We have a key to get inside. If you’re hoarding any illegal pets or somethin’, though…”

You realize he’s joking with you, and you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding, along with a small laugh.

“Right, well, I’m not just saying this, but it’s really just me in here. Thank you so much for your help, Gideon.”

“Of course, 314! Bye, now.”

The fact that Gideon doesn’t make you feel bad for calling about something as trivial as a lightbulb takes a huge weight off your chest, and you’re able to move on with your day without anxiety.

You don’t expect the maintenance staff to be there right away, especially since Gideon mentioned some higher-priority tickets, so you keep your teddy-bear-patterned pajamas on and decide to use the rest of your day off for something fun as a little treat to yourself. After all, you did take the steps to solve a problem - you deserve it!

Halfway through a crime documentary you’ve been itching to watch, your doorbell rings. You’re confused at first, wondering who would be visiting you, but when you look out of the peephole and see one of the most handsome men you’ve ever laid eyes on in a dark blue jumpsuit carrying a rather large toolbox, you blanch.

After a horrified glance at your state of dress and realizing you don’t have time to change, you curse yourself, deciding this is your karma for not being able to change a lightbulb yourself. This is your divine retribution. You take a deep breath and open the door to be hit immediately with Cupid’s arrows as you take in the unobstructed sight of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

He’s tall and leanly muscled, his jumpsuit tight enough to display a physique you’ve never seen on someone in real life. His arms bulge, straining the sleeves slightly, and the fabric tapers at his trim waist. He’s got the most beautiful, warm eyes; violet flecked with warm amber like flower petals on fire. When he speaks, you feel every thought in your brain disappear as if disintegrating, words reduced to dust in the countenance of what you can only assume an angel looks like.

“Hey, got a lightbulb that needs fixin’?” He asks warmly, and you know immediately by the sound of his voice that this isn’t the Gideon guy you spoke to on the phone.

It takes you a few moments to speak, and you begin to panic a bit when he tilts his head in confusion, like he might have accidentally gotten the wrong apartment when you don’t answer.

“Y-yes,” You stammer, rushing the words. “I - that’s me. It’s - um… not turning on.”

“Alright, mind if I come in to take a look?” He asks. “Name’s Caleb, by the way.”

“Of course, yes, so sorry,” You trip over your words, stepping to the side so he can come in.

The height difference between the two of you becomes way more apparent as he steps inside, towering over you as he surveys your place.

“The ticket said it was the kitchen lightbulb, right?” He asks as he walks toward the kitchen, clearly knowing the layout of every apartment like the back of his hand.

“Yeah,” You follow him like a puppy, fighting the urge to explain yourself. “It’s been out for about a week. I’ve tried everything from different kinds of lightbulbs to different wattages. I know it’s the correct size, though, here …”

You trail off as you move to the cabinet where you store all of your extra lightbulbs, which is currently overflowing with the bulbs you’re starting to think you’ve wasted money on.

“Here,” you gesture to the cabinet with a sheepish smile. “I went overboard. I was explaining this to your coworker on the phone, but I’m really clueless when it comes to this kind of thing, so I understand what a ridiculous ticket request this is. Once I learn what the issue is, I promise you’ll never have to deal with me again.”

“We don’t mind,” Caleb laughs, the sound comforting and warm like a cup of rich coffee. “That’s what we’re here for. Besides, we have the ticket system, so we know what takes precedence. It’s not a big deal - ‘s all I’m saying.”

Caleb squats to look, and his eyes widen when he sees the sheer number of lightbulbs you have.

“Wow, yeah, I mean, if anything, your overstock tells me that you definitely tried to resolve the issue on your own. I don’t think buying multiples of the same kind was necessary, but I guess it never hurts to have a supply. Do you know where the lightbulb that went out initially is?”

“Oh, yeah,” you confirm, open the drawer right above the cabinet, and present it to him.

You try not to focus on how small it looks in his hand compared to yours.

“Okay, let’s try this one again and see what we’re working with.”

It’s hard not to stare. You try your best to be respectful, but you can’t help yourself. Every bit of him is beautiful, from the soft-looking warm brown hair to the prominent veins in his muscular arms. He’s so tall that he doesn’t even have to reach to unscrew the new lightbulb you’ve personally installed to replace it with the old, like it’s nothing for him.

“Alright, can you please do me a favor?”

“Anything,” you say, and you’re embarrassed to find that you truly mean anything.

“The switch is off, right? Turn it on for me?”

For me.

You do as asked, and like before, nothing happens. 

“Right, okay. Turn it back off, and I’ll get this one unscrewed,” he instructs.

Again, you do as asked, and Caleb removes the busted bulb. He takes the new one he took out to test the old and screws it back in. 

“I’m sorry, but don’t you want me to get another one for you, seeing as that one didn’t work?”

Caleb grins at you, and you feel your heart rate increase.

“No, I think we should try this one more time,” he says with a hint of delight that makes you feel like you’re missing something.

He screws the bulb in and nods to you. You flip the switch, and by some miracle, the kitchen is flooded with light. You stand there, finger still on the switch, blinking rapidly. 

“Wait, but -”

“So, you did the right thing by turning the switch off when you were screwing in the new one,” Caleb explains, walking towards you with an amused look on his face. “The problem is,”

He stands directly beside you, so closely you can smell his cologne, and flips the switch off, then on.

“You’ve gotta turn the switch back on after you put the bulb in.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Huh,” you say, dumbfounded. “I - I guess that would …  be … smart…”

Caleb laughs, and the sound makes you want to smash the old lightbulb over your head - partially because you know you amuse him and it makes you happy, but partially because you’ve made yourself sound like a dumbass in front of him.

“D-Do you have to write a report or anything for the tickets you fix?”

“Huh? Not really anything too detailed. It’s just a brief description of the issue and how I resolved it," Caleb explains, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Why?”

“Could you please not include the part about me being a train wreck? Maybe make something up and say it was the circuit breaker or something?”

Caleb leans against your wall, laughs again, and you feel a little dead inside.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be vague. But really, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. If anything, you should be proud of the fact that you didn’t electrocute yourself by turning the switch off. Trust me, I’ve seen that happen plenty of times.”

“Okay, well, that does make me feel slightly better, but I feel like you’re being a little too nice to me.” You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest and still trying to process the fact that you forgot to turn the light back on.

“It should. We’d really rather you call us for things you’re not sure about. This is our job, okay? You don’t have to feel bad for needing help, ‘cause it’s what I get paid to do.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “You guys would probably be the only staff at this place that don’t make me feel like an idiot, so thanks.”

“The front desk people are assholes,” he says bluntly. “They sit around and act like they fix things when all they do is take forever to relay stuff to the rest of us. Believe me, they talk to everyone like they’re dumb, including us. It’s like an unspoken rule for them to be like that, so don’t take it to heart.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize you guys got the bad end of it, too.”

“Daily,” Caleb pushes himself off the wall to stand straight again, towering over you yet again, and laughs derisively. “We get our fair share of condescension. Oh, I do have one piece of advice for you, though.”

“Oh,” you brace yourself. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing major,” Caleb assures, eyes twinkling. “Just - I know we have your name and your apartment number and all that good stuff, but when you’re on the phone with people you don’t know, try not to mention the fact that you live alone and that you don’t have family close by.”

“H-Huh?”

“Yeah, I know it may not seem like a big deal, but the less information you give, the better. Like I said, we already have your information and all of that, but especially if you’re new to the area and you don’t have people close by. Just be careful, alright?”

“Yeah,”  You feel a little silly. “No, you’re right. Um, thank you for everything you’ve done today. I’m sorry, I basically wasted your time.”

Caleb shakes his head, squirts some of your dish soap in his hands, and washes them in the sink. 

“Really, no worries. We didn’t have a lot to get through, and as I said, we always do high priority first, so it’s not like I was swimming with work today. That’s how I was able to get over here pretty quickly. Seriously, I get paid for this. Call as much as you want, okay?”

You try not to abuse the offer, you really do, but as your shitty luck would have it, your refrigerator goes out a short two days after your first meeting with Caleb. Calling the front desk is, as always, a miserable experience, and you’re greeted by the same woman who’s done nothing but make you feel about as big as an ant every time you speak with her.

“Josephine speaking, how may I help you?”

“Uh, hi - it’s apartment number 314 again -”

You’re cut off by a very obvious, very annoyed sigh.

“Was this regarding your previous maintenance request? If that’s the case, you’ll need to -”

“No,” you interrupt, regretting it immediately, but push on. “It’s actually something else. My refrigerator isn’t running, and I’ve done everything I can, but it’s been several hours and -”

“I’m transferring you to maintenance; hold, please.”

Well. 

Better to speak to them than her.  

It’s not long until you’re met with the voice that your thoughts have been consumed by for the last two days.

“Caleb speaking, is this apartment 314?” Caleb seems amused, and you try to tell yourself that the excitement in his voice is likely normal for your self-preservation. “Don’t tell me you blew up another lightbulb.”

“Okay, first off, I didn’t blow up the last one; it stopped working.” You counter, feeling a little indignant.

“Yeah, yeah,” Caleb teases. “What’s going on, though?”

“Well, Josephine is a massive grouch.”

“The sky is blue, water is wet. What’s the actual problem?”

“The refrigerator seems to think that keeping my perishables cold is optional. Hasn’t been running since I don’t know when, because I woke up and the light was off and everything was … warm and moist.”

“Wow, that’s pretty gross.”

“You’re telling me. So, how high priority would this ticket be, just out of curiosity?”

“That depends. Is anything in the fridge cold at all?” Caleb asks. “If you’ve kept the door shut, it should have preserved a bit of that chill to keep your food okay for at least another hour or two.”

“Oh. Well, what would be the case if I’ve actually had the door open for the last hour trying to look at what’s going on?”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Caleb says quickly. “You’ll prooooobably have to throw out a good chunk of your stuff, but I’ll let you know when I get there.”

You hear someone in the background that sounds like Gideon saying something to Caleb, to which he responds,

“I know, I know. Can’t you take that one? I’ve got a situation in 314.”

Within half an hour, Caleb is at your door, mostly intact but out of breath; it’s like he ran to get to you. Like before, he throws you a devastating smile, then gets to work.

If the lightbulb issue isn’t humbling enough, watching Caleb simply plug your refrigerator cord back into the wall is enough to send you into psychosis. You stare blankly, speechless for probably the first time in your life.

“You gotta plug it in,” Caleb helplessly offers the advice with a small smile, clearly trying his hardest not to laugh.

Over the next month, you end up calling the maintenance team a handful of times. The frequency isn't enough to raise flags yet, and you’ve only contacted them once each week. Despite your best efforts not to call on ‘busy’ days (the fact that you’ve called enough to know which days are busy is something you’ll reckon with some other time), they never seem too busy to pick up the phone. If they have other requests, they simply let you know. Your issues range from small ones, like a slightly obnoxious dripping sink, to trivial things that don’t really need fixing, and you can probably handle on your own.

Caleb shows up for every single request.

The reservations you’ve had about watching Caleb while he works dwindle the more comfortable you get with him, and it seems like he’s more than happy to talk. He frequently fills in the silences when you're hesitant to speak, ensuring you feel at ease every time. After your initial trepidation about the lightbulb issue and Caleb's assurance that you could call anytime, it never crossed your mind that you might be inconveniencing him.

In fact, you get so comfortable that Caleb’s presence and willingness to help almost embolden you.

“Thank you so much, Caleb. I really appreciate it.” You say this gratefully, a coy smile playing on your lips as you watch him crouch to take a look at your toilet tank.

“No worries, I’m happy to do it,” he says. “Just out of curiosity, though - didn’t I just fix this for you a week ago?”

“Yeah, about that,” You bite your lip as he fixes his gaze on you, nervous you’ll give yourself away. “I just wanted you to check up on it if you had the time. I heard some strange sounds, and I wasn’t really sure what the reason for it was.”

“Oh, it just means it’s working properly! Are they more like a whooshing or a groaning?”

“Wooshing,” you say, tips of your ears burning, but Caleb simply smiles. 

“Yeah, that just means it’s working. Anything else you want me to take a look at?”

“Well, I don’t want to keep you from anything …”

“No worries, you’re my last ticket for the day,” Caleb assures you. “Maybe it’d be better if you just make me a list since your apartment seems to have the most issues. I don’t think I’ve ever had to visit another apartment as many times as I have yours. Guess you drew the short end of the stick with the luck here.”

Caleb’s tone is teasing, and you know he’s likely just negging you, but in all honesty, you do feel awful. You feel awful that you’re always asking for him, even though you know that the maintenance team has some say in which tickets they take. You feel awful that you know not only Caleb but also Gideon and the rest of the team by their first names. You feel awful that they all immediately hand the phone over to Caleb as soon as they hear your voice on the other end. Despite all of that guilt, you chase the euphoric joy of seeing his face and hearing his voice, so much so that you begin sabotaging things. 

“Hey, when’s the last time you looked at this smoke detector? Caleb asks, eyeing it wearily.

“Um, I’m not too sure. Why?" Does that need to be changed, too?"

You do know. You took the batteries out of it right before he came over, just in case he saw through your toilet tank ploy. 

“No reason,” Caleb assures you, almost like he’s trying to avoid hurting your feelings because he knows you simply don’t know any better.

“Just make sure it’s got batteries, okay? Has it been making any kind of noises lately?”

“Oh, now that you mention it, is that annoying, persistent beeping something that I need to be concerned about?” You wonder, biting your fingertip.

You watch as Caleb goes through the five stages of grief all at once, his expressions filtering from horrified to a reserved and calm kind of peace.

“Yeah, the beeping would be an indicator that it needs to be looked at. No worries, I’ll get you some fresh batteries for this bad boy after I finish with your washer and dryer. Now, what did you say was going on?”

“Not sure,” You peer over his shoulder as he fiddles with the dials. “Just… isn’t … uh -”

“Draining properly?” Caleb supplies helpfully.

“Yes! That! The barrel of it is full of water every time I try to  - oh, look at that.”

You’re interrupted by Caleb pressing a few buttons, and the water in your washer drains instantly.

“Wow, who could have imagined it was that easy?” You manage, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, you kind of have to turn it on … you know, so it cycles through,” Caleb says kindly.

This time, you have to pretend to be embarrassed, because you know.

You’re the one who turned it off mid-cycle.

Your calls to the maintenance team have become an almost daily occurrence. It’s not that you’re trying to make their lives more difficult, but the smooth and teasing cadence of Caleb’s voice is like a drug for you, and after all, he did say to call him ‘anytime.’ Seeing a couple of fruit flies orbiting your drain is a good enough reason to call this time, right?

You and Josephine have reached an understanding: you no longer have to explain yourself to her; the second she hears your voice, she transfers you. Usually, Caleb is the first person to pick up the phone, and it’s typically within a matter of moments, but occasionally, you get Gideon. 

“Apartment 314, we can’t keep meeting like this,” Gideon deadpans. “You’re taking one of my best and brightest from me, you know that?”

“Shit, I mean - damn,” you stumble over the words, trying to censor yourself in the face of discomfort, making it worse. “Shoot? I’m sorry. I can wait if -”

“Is that 314?” you hear Caleb call in the background. 

“Can you fuck off and go check 621’s garbage disposal like I asked you to do ten minutes ago?” Gideon barks, clearly irritated. “Sorry about that, 314. Continue.”

“Um… it sounds a little dumb when I say it out loud, but I’ve been getting these fruit flies, and -”

“Circling your drains? Kitchen and bathroom?” Gideon interrupts, a no-nonsense tone commanding his voice.

“Kitchen.”

“Pour boiling water down the drain and see where that gets you. If that doesn’t work, try using apple cider vinegar traps. You’ll be able to find them at any hardware store, but if you have dish soap and apple cider vinegar on hand, try mixing them with some warm water in a container you don’t mind losing and poking some holes in the top. That should resolve your issue. Was that all?”

“Yeah,” you say, deflating. “That was it. Thanks.

Gideon pauses for a moment before speaking, and the slight tinge of annoyance in his voice begins to fade. 

“You do know that you’re allowed to ask for his number, right?”

He was waiting for Caleb to leave.

“Wh-What?”

“Caleb. You can ask for his number. Legally, I’m not allowed to give it to you directly, but I promise he wants it. You know he’s been practically beating the shit out of the rest of the team to get to the phone. Chomping at the bit just hoping it’s you.”

“I don’t know what you -”

“Don’t play dumb,” Gideon sounds a little disappointed and annoyed, but not angry. “I’ve seen the reports. I believed you about the light bulb thing, ‘cause that’s an honest mistake, but taking the batteries out of a smoke detector is pretty fucking dangerous.”

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, and Gideon laughs. “It won’t happen again.”

“Have a wonderful day, 314. I hope not to hear from you anytime soon.”

You deserve that. Gideon’s advice swims in your mind, and you wonder how you’ll even go about it. Calling the maintenance team again seems like overkill, and you know Caleb is helping another tenant, so you push the idea to the side, slightly embarrassed at how crazy it’s been making you act. Resigned, you turn your electric kettle on to boil the water and dump it down the drain. To your chagrin, the flies begin to dwindle. 

Hours after your call, you’re sitting in your favorite chair and half-watching some trashy reality dating show while you work on a puzzle. The sudden ring of your doorbell surprises you. You’re not expecting a package or anything. You wait a moment on the chance that it’s an unwelcome solicitor, but the ringing persists, so you drag yourself to your feet to answer the door.

“Caleb!”

Your favorite handyman stands there sporting a giant grin on his slightly soiled face and holds out his hands to present four or five little apple-shaped objects.

“Fruit flies?” He asks in lieu of a greeting. 

“Y-yeah, how did -”

“I heard you on the phone with Gideon,” he explains. “Mind if I come in? I’m not technically on the clock, but I wanted to help ya out.”

You feel a fluttering sensation in your stomach, and Gideon’s assurance that Caleb would want your number starts to feel less like pity.

“It’s okay,” you say quickly. “Gideon told me how to fix it on the phone. I’m really sorry to have even called about it. I’ve been monopolizing your time, and I know that. I just -”

“Nah, you’re not,” Caleb assures you. “You know, I did just say that I’m off from work.”

Caleb’s familiarity and comfort in your home make your chest ache as you follow him to your kitchen. He knows his way around, and every apartment likely has more or less the same layout, but it still makes you giddy.

“Gideon told you to pour the hot water down the drain?” Caleb asks as he tears the plastic off the little apple objects.

“Yeah, I did, and I’m noticing a bit of a difference, but what are those?”

Caleb brings one to his lips and tears the remaining plastic off with his teeth. The sight makes your knees weak. Caleb lifts his hand to spit the plastic into it, then tosses it into your garbage can. 

“Traps. You can usually make your own. Gideon prooooobably told you how to. I just had some of these handy, and they usually work better than homemade, anyway. You just pour the liquid it comes with in like this,” Caleb lifts the trap so you can see with one hand, then fishes for a little plastic vial to open with the other.

“It’s apple cider vinegar? Gideon told me to mix it with dish soap.”

“Yeah, the smell and the sugar attract the flies. See these little holes at the top? They’re shaped so the flies can get in, but they have a hard time getting out. The vinegar also has some sticky stuff in it, which is usually what the dish soap does when you make it yourself, and it traps them inside.”

Caleb fills the trap and puts it next to your kitchen sink, then fills another two and motions for you to follow him to the bathroom. He strategically places the first in your shower just out of the water’s reach, then puts the other right next to the bathroom sink, as he did in the kitchen.

“I know you said it was just your kitchen, but these little guys like to hang out around any drains. Just to cover all your bases, you know?”

You could listen to him talk about cement, and you’d still be captivated.

“Yeah, definitely.” You look up to see Caleb beaming at you. “Thanks, Caleb.”

“Anytime,” He murmurs. “I’m gonna take a look at your kitchen sink really quickly, too. I know it’s been leakin’ on ya.”

Oh, you know. You were careful to leave the handle positioned so the faucet was only just turned on. It does make you feel a little slimy, but seeing as it’s the last time you’ll be making an unnecessary maintenance call and Caleb is there of his own accord, you decide to exercise your Miranda rights. 

You trail after Caleb to the kitchen and lean against the counter as he fiddles with the faucet. He hums so gently to himself as he works that you almost ask what the buzzing noise is. It’s so maddeningly cute you want to scream.

“Seems like it’s workin’ okay,” Caleb confirms what you already know, then turns to face you. “Guess I did a pretty good job of fixing it up the last time.”

“Thanks, by the way.”

“Anytime…” Caleb trails off, though his gaze is unwavering. 

“Listen, I … might not have been completely honest with you,” you blabber, unable to take the weight of his stare with your incredibly guilty conscience. 

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Ugh, try not to judge me. Too much, okay? I just… haven’t really been needing as much help as I’ve been letting on.”

Caleb’s head tilts to the side, and he reminds you of a confused puppy. It makes you feel even worse.

“I’ve been lying about having issues around my apartment,” you confess. “The lightbulb thing was real, and the refrigerator was unfortunately also true, but the sink and the toilet - all of that other stuff were just excuses.”

“Excuses for what?” Caleb asks, though the confusion is gone, and he’s grinning at you like he already knows what you’re going to say; he just wants to hear it. 

“Excuses to get you here. I think you’re really fun to be around, and I also happen to think you’re really, really attractive, and it’s fun watching you work. I’m sorry, okay? I told Gideon I wouldn’t waste your time anymore.”

“So thaaaaaaaaat’s it,” Caleb drawls as he walks over to stand in front of you and close the distance between the two of you. “I’m just eye candy to you, huh?”

He’s never been this close to you. He practically radiates heat, all-encompassing and inviting as he invades your space, and the soothing scent of apples and musk fans across your face.

“You’ve got…” You trail off, but lift your thumb to his cheek to wipe the questionable marks away. 

Caleb covers your hand with his own to hold it there, carefully prying it open so he can weave his fingers within yours.

“Thanks, just a little bit of residue.” He leans forward, and his hot breath fans across your face, sweet and almost spicy as if he’s been chewing cinnamon-flavored gum. “Do I have any anywhere else?”

“The other side,” you murmur.

Without breaking eye contact, Caleb takes your hand and brings it to the other side of his face to gently wipe, not really caring about the fact that all he’s doing is smearing the mark. 

“Anywhere …else?” 

“No,” you swallow thickly. “I think I got it for you.”

“Well, thanks for cleanin’ me up.” Caleb reaches down to bring your other hand to his face. “I think I’ve still got a little bit of work to do, though.”

“I don’t want to take up your time -”

“Off the clock,” Caleb drags your hands across his face, then to his throat. “This is a different, more important job.”

He lifts your arms so they dangle over his shoulders, then lightly trails his fingertips down to your waist when his hands are free. He stops at your hips, spreading his large hands over them and gripping tightly enough to indicate intention, yet still allowing you to move if you’re not interested.

“I hope I’m not reading this the wrong way,” Caleb starts slowly, his voice thick with a need he’s only letting show now that his job isn’t tethering him to decency. “I think… You might like me a little?”

You nod quickly to leave no room for misinterpretation and tug the back of his neck so he’s standing between your legs and pressed against you.

“A lot,” you correct. 

“Good, ‘cause I’ve been thinking about kissing you ever since you opened the door that first time,” Caleb groans, then lifts you by the hips to stand on the tops of his feet to make closing the distance between your lips easier.

His lips stifle your whine, so hot and eager to taste you that his kiss lacks any precision. Caleb presses you against the counter, his tongue prying your lips apart. His impatience is addicting, and even though you find it difficult to keep up, there’s something electric about him being so turned on, he can’t help but ravage you like this. 

“Up,” Caleb rasps when he finally pulls away for breath, gripping the back of your thighs to lift you onto the counter. 

He pushes himself further between your legs to press against you, his lips descending on yours once more when he is sure you are positioned safely to avoid falling. Caleb isn’t shy as he kisses you, all hunger and desperation as he chases the very same bliss you’ve been after since you first laid eyes on him. He nips your bottom lip and tugs, a shudder raking through his large body as he envelops you. You gasp for breath as he pulls away, so wet and messy that when you part, a thin strand of saliva connects your lips.

“I need to know this is okay.” Caleb pants as he releases the tight grip on your hips to soothingly stroke your thighs with his fingertips

“Fuck yes, this is okay,” you say firmly. “I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of the situation, and -”

“Thank you,” Caleb groans and captures your lips to silence whatever unnecessary rambling you’re about to do, and he sighs into your mouth. 

Now that you know he’s just as stupid for you as you are for him, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him as close as physically possible to roll your hips against his. Caleb gasps and goes slack-jawed, but you don’t mind the fact that he isn’t kissing you when you see that look of utter reverence and pleasure on his face. His eyebrows draw together, and soft puffs of hot air fan across your face as you grind into him.

“Oh, y-yeah?” He manages shakily. “It’s like that?”

“Mmm, it’s been like that,” you manage between breaths. “Thought it was time I did something about it.”

“Ohhh, no, no, no,” Caleb chides. “Nuh-uh, it took you long enough, and I had to make the move, so I’m the one that’s gonna be doing somethin’ about it. Have you done this before?”

“Fucked a maintenance man? No,” you lean forward to take his earlobe between your teeth before murmuring into his ear, “But there’s a first time for everything.”

“I’m not fucking you today,” Caleb hisses as you lick the shell of his ear. 

“What?” You protest.

“Wow, how bratty. Guess you’re used to getting what you want, huh?” Caleb goads.

“Thought you liked me,” you pout.

“I do, ‘s why we’re going on at least one date before we get there, although…”

Caleb pulls back, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. 

“Can I do something else?” 

“You can do anything you want to me,” you say without thinking, and Caleb laughs. 

“Do you have kitchen bleach?”

“I’ve got surface cleaner; is that any different from regular bleach?”

“That works,” Caleb shrugs, then sinks to his knees in front of you. “Do me a favor and thread your fingers through my hair so you’ve got a bit of a grip - I don’t mind if you pull.”

You blink.

“Oh, lift up for me, please?” He asks sweetly, and when you obey, he tugs your sweats and panties down until they reach your knees, then impatiently yanks them off. “Oh, fuck.”

“I - I haven’t showered today, and -”

Caleb inhales deeply and fucking shudders.

“Shit, I was gonna start slow, but I need to taste you now - will you let me? Please, can I use my mouth?”

Caleb looks up at you from between your thighs, his eyes filled with a wet, desperate kind of need that makes you clench around nothing.

“Y-yes, please.”

Your invitation is all Caleb needs to dive in. He flattens his tongue against you, no preamble or teasing, and flicks his tongue after he’s collected all of your arousal that he can. Caleb’s jaw works as he swallows and moans, the sound low and intense. He wastes no time between licks and attacks your cunt with drawn-out French kisses, all saliva and primal need that outweighs his normal polite disposition. 

Caleb is insatiable, and this is a side of him you never thought you’d see. It’s becoming clearer and clearer that you might be a freak for submitting those fake requests just to see him, but he’s matched and raised you. You wonder if you’re dealing with something beyond your scope of capabilities when you tug his hair hard enough to bring tears to his eyes, and he whimpers. Caleb pulls back, and you can’t tell where your fluids start and his saliva ends. He doesn’t bother to wipe his face when he looks up at you with a plea.

“Pull harder and fuck my face, okay?” 

His eyes are desperate and innocent, but his question makes you shiver. Caleb allows you no recovery time before he’s back at it, flattening his tongue against you to grind against. Your grip in his hair tightens, but you’re still terrified of hurting him. Sensing your hesitation, Caleb flicks his tongue up to your clit, then sucks it into his mouth as he finds your hands in his hair and makes you yank it. His groans are muffled but unmistakable, and the rumbling vibrates against you, wrenching a sharp, high-pitched cry from your throat. 

Satisfied that you’re pulling his hair hard enough, Caleb pulls his hand away from yours to sneak between your legs. Without prelude, he slips his index finger inside of you and grunts when he feels how tight you are. You’re so wet that a second finger glides inside of you with ease as Caleb swirls his tongue around your swollen clit.

“Yes, ‘s it,” Caleb slurs against you. “Take what y’need, sweetheart.”

It’s been a while since you’ve had any kind of stimulation, and Caleb is so intoxicating that he’s able to bring you so close to the edge your thighs are quaking around his head. Caleb is observant and senses how close you are without you having to say anything. You doubt you’d be able to voice it, anyway. You cry out, a half-whimper, half-sob, as Caleb thrusts his fingers deep inside of you, so long that he reaches a place you’ve never felt before. 

He flicks his tongue rapidly against your clit, jaw working and tongue aching to get you where he wants you as fluid drips onto your kitchen floor in front of him. Your lips part on a silent scream, and Caleb scissors his fingers inside of you as he works you through your orgasm. Your body surges forward with the intensity of it all, and Caleb steadies you with his free hand. You tremble in the aftershocks of your bliss, and worried that you’ll fall without something to hold on to, Caleb stands to hold you there while you recover.

“Good girl,” Caleb soothes. “You did so well for me. Can you stand?”

“I - I don’t know,” you answer honestly. 

“That’s okay, just wrap your arms around my neck, okay - and hang on tight for me?” Caleb speaks so gently, the difference is almost jarring.

Caleb wraps your legs around his waist, seemingly not caring that you’re staining the front of his shirt, and walks you to your bedroom. He lays you down on your bed to give you a moment to breathe, then leaves the room. You almost call to ask him where he’s going, but he returns within seconds with a damp cloth.

“Spread your legs for me?” Caleb instructs, and you mindlessly obey, thoughts still trying to find their way back into your head after they’ve been tongue-fucked out of it.

Caleb wipes your thighs first, then gently drags the cloth between your legs to clean you up as best he can. 

“Wow, you’re good at everything,” you manage after a few moments. 

Caleb snickers.

“I don’t wanna brag, buuuuuuut.”

“Mm, hey, while I’ve got you here,” you trail off, unable to fight a smile at your own amusement.

“Hm?”