冬きたりなば春遠からじ

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“No, seriously! Everybody’s been talking about this online,” Tara swears to you, pointing at her phone’s screen enigmatically. “It’s foolproof and recommended for women travelling alone, just one tap and the bluetooth connects to any possible hidden cameras in your room! I haven’t been to a single Air BnB without using it.”

You sigh, trying not to laugh at how insistent she was about her fixation of the week. “Have you ever actually caught a hidden camera with it?”

“Not me, but my cousin’s friend Leah did! Even got the landlord to pay her compensation for it,” she says resolutely, making your eyebrows raise slightly. Could it be that one of these popular apps actually worked, for once?

“And it’s free? Sounds too good to be true, what’s the catch?” you ask skeptically, trying to add things up and stumbling at the fact that such a useful app could be available free of charge.

She shakes her head with a big smile. “No catch! The creator is some super boss-woman, said she made it to keep all her girlies out there safe.”

Impressed, you concede and open your phone to download the app, thinking that nothing bad could come out of it either way. Tara is obviously happy, and proceeds to talk about it some more over dinner before switching to tens of other topics throughout, as she always does. By the end of the night, your stomach is full, your cheeks hurt from laughing too hard, and you’re in a great mood. 

It's around midnight when she finally drops you off at your apartment building, and you wave her goodbye before walking in and taking the elevator up.

Your heels are off as soon as you’re through your front door, groaning as the blood finally circulates and staves off the numbness in your legs. You hear your door’s lock click and wobble to your kitchen, sighing when you ease yourself into a stool at the island counter.

Not twenty seconds after you’d locked your door, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

You glance at the microwave clock and see that it’s well past midnight. Who could be texting you this late on a Saturday night?

Shimmying your phone out of your pocket, your screen comes to life to show you two new messages from Caleb. Your lips curve into a soft smile as you tap the notification and unlock your phone, leaning against the counter while you read.

Hey pipsqueak!

Home yet? xD

A soft snort leaves you as you respond, typing back swiftly.

Just got back, are you in my walls?

His response is just as quick, adorned with a few laughing expressions.

You wish ;p

Going to bed?

You get up from the stool and head for your room, shrugging off your jacket before texting back.

Yep, just a quick shower and then Colonel Pipsqueak is off to dreamland

He doesn’t wait too long to reply.

Roger that :) Guess that means I’ll text you in the morning, so g’night!

Captain Caleb, over and out xD

You giggle a little despite yourself, appreciating how his texting style never seemed to change no matter how much time would pass. You text back a simple ‘Night ^-^’ and leave your phone to charge on your bedside table before walking in to have a quick shower.

The hot water helps relax you further after a fun night out with one of your best friends, and you leave the bathroom with your towel wrapped around you as you hum a soft melody you’d heard earlier that day. Sitting down on your bed, you grab your phone and open it to find Caleb’s chat still open. You tap to sift to a different app for a distraction when you notice the app you’d downloaded during your time out with Tara was still open.

With an amused little huff, you tap to move back to it and enable its access to your phone’s bluetooth. Without a second thought, you choose the ‘Scan’ option and wait for the app to probably find your speakers or headphones. Instead, a list of unnamed devices shows up.

Active within a 10 metre radius:

Device 001

Device 002

Device 003

Device 004

Your blood runs cold.

This was your apartment. Your home and safe space, where nobody but the people most trusted in your life is ever allowed to enter. This can’t possibly be right.

You switch your bluetooth off and back on again, then restart the app before scanning one more time.

Same results.

Your hands are shaking when you close the app again in a hurry, half-throwing the phone onto the bed like it had suddenly shocked you. Your breathing is erratic, chest feeling a little too tight, when your phone suddenly buzzes and makes you jump. With trembling fingers, you grab it and check your notifications.

Hey pipsqueak, is everything okay?

You still. The shock is broken almost as soon as it had come, and your shaky hands type a quick response.

I thought you were sleeping. Why do you ask?

His reply is instant.

Just felt like something was off and it made me text you

You’re immediately hyperaware of your surroundings, but the feeling of danger has all but gone. Instead, a bitter pettiness worms its way into your body as the situation clicks into place. What were the odds that Caleb would ask if you were okay out of nowhere when you’d just been starting to panic?

Well, about the same as somehow always knowing when you got back home as soon as you were through the front door.

A part of you hates that you’d never considered that he could have been watching you despite the odd ‘coincidences’, and the Hunter training in your head cusses you out for having left your guard down and fallen prey to him so easily.

A quieter part, however, sparks at the idea. Caleb, your Caleb, had been watching you this entire time. Just how long had these cameras been here? How much had he seen? Did this mean your feelings were reciprocated?

You don’t allow yourself to back out as you leave his text unanswered and unwrap the towel, propping some pillows up so you could lay back, still undressed. Forcing yourself to breathe and relax, you part your legs slowly and allow your free hand to trail down your body at an agonisingly slow pace while the other continues to hold your phone. Within seconds, another text comes through.

You there? Watcha up to, pips?

The forced nonchalance while he pretends not to be watching is enough to make an indignant anger crawl under your skin. You decide to fight fire with fire, and your fingers finally dip between your thighs while you reply.

Sounds silly, but thinking about someone. Been on my mind for a while…

You begin to touch yourself, a whimper escaping you as you watch him type, backpedal, type again, and then repeat. The ellipses keep showing up, but he seems to take longer to respond the louder your pretty sounds continued to get. Finally, a short message comes through.

Yeah, me too

You see him begin to type something else, and your anger decides that the opportunity for revenge has presented itself on a silver platter. You waste no time, and in the most deliciously wanton tone, you moan out Gideon’s name.

The typing stops. Five seconds later, your phone is buzzing in your hand as a call from Caleb comes through, and you try your hardest not to smile. You make a point of watching it ring, but you don’t pick up. When it sends him to voicemail, Caleb immediately sends in a text.

Pick up the phone.

You make sure your next moan is extra sultry, and the erotic tone has your cheeks pinking in embarrassment as Gideon’s name tumbles from your lips yet again. In your head, you hope he forgives you for using him in your scheme.

The phone buzzes with a call again, and this time, you answer on the fifth ring. Your tone is petulant and bratty when you address Caleb with, “I’m busy.”

You’re greeted by heavy breathing on the other end of the call, interrupted by the occasional hitch. “Who are you thinking about?”

It’s working. You make sure to keep touching yourself, taking your sweet time to answer his question, and you actively hear his breathing deepen and stutter the longer you go on. “Are you okay, Caleb? You don’t sound so good.”

“Answer me, Y/N,” he all but begs, breathy and anguished.

You finally smile then, hoping he can see it clearly as you touch yourself while he speaks to you. “What, did you hear something you shouldn’t have?”

It’s audible when he stops breathing for a few seconds, the line going dead quiet as your words register and he realises he’d been caught. About half a minute later, his voice comes out strangled. “You knew I was watching. You did that on purpose.”

You tease yourself some more, whimpering into the phone to torture him further. “Didn’t like the consequences of your own actions, Caleb?”

“Brat,” he stutters out in disbelief, like he can’t tell if he should laugh or not. It’s followed by a muffled groan and a hiss, which makes you laugh as you realise he was stroking himself to you.

“Did me being cruel to you make you even harder? What a masochist,” you coo at him, though the anger hasn’t quite left you yet. “How long have you been watching me, Caleb?”

The tone makes him whimper, and you can hear his breathing get even more unsteady. “Don’t stop talking, pips… Fuck, it’s even better hearing you talk to me directly.”

At that, you moan Gideon’s name again. The reaction you get is exactly the one you wanted.

“Y/N, if I hear his name one more time, I’m going to – ” he starts angrily, but you interrupt him with another laugh.

“You’ll what, hm?” you taunt, surprised with yourself and your ability to rile him up so easily.

The line goes quiet, and the eerie silence makes you lose a bit of confidence. You stop touching yourself, but before you can say anything else, his voice comes through with a resolute finality. “Give me forty minutes.”

Your brows furrow as you glance at your clock. “What? Caleb, it’s two in the morning. I was just getting back at you for spying on me like a perverted creep. Don’t be so – ”

“Forty minutes,” he repeats, but you can hear the predatory smile in his tone this time as the shuffling of movement is heard through the phone. He’d caught you off guard and pulled the rug out from under your feet, and you’d fallen prey to him yet again. 

“Listen, if you think I’m actually letting you win this, you must be – ” But he interrupts you once more, already on the move.

“You won’t mind if I let myself in, yeah?” he says smugly and hangs up.

You look around you, then back down at your still-naked state, and everything that just happened finally registers in your brain.

You were thoroughly fucked, metaphorically and literally.

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Find Part II here.