Hikotomi

The arousal sends shivers down your body-- because it's no good, this man will fuck you hours with no breaks.

You look so helpless-- but you can't shake the feeling of how his cock is filling you up so good.

The way his cock is bullying your aching pussy relentlessly:(

You knew he was mad. And it's bad for the part of you.

You knew how much Caleb loathes those higher-ups of the fleet. He hates how they treat him like a lap dog. Just a pet to be commanded to do things by their control.

And no shit-- because Caleb doesn't play when it comes to these things.

It angered him so much-- even of how deep his hatred for them, he never shows it. Instead he would let out his anger by fucking you immensely.

"hah- a-and did you know what those assholes told..m-me?" He growls, his hair sticking out on his forehead. You can't help but cry out in response, of how fast the man's pace is. All you can think of is how you're going back to linkon after this.

Caleb's desk was shaking continuously-- all his important paperwork were scattered around, few already drenched with your juices and his cum.

But he doesn't care-- like hell he will.

Tears stream down your cheeks feeling his gritty cock throb inside of your tight little hole. He's fucking you like there's no tomorrow-- as if he's following a rhythm.

"t-they...told me that I s-should stop bringing outsiders...in the fleet..." He breathes out, hand kneading the plush of your ass. The other one reached out to your hardened clit as he rub circles against it making you gasp as your legs trembled.

You were sure your moans were out of control. You'd just hope nobody passes by the colonel's office at this time.

"I can't...help but...want to kill them off instantly.." He leans over your back, his hot breath against your nape as he plants a kiss. It made you squirm, feeling his hot tongue traced over the plush of your skin.

The heat of sensation seeps through your pussy, as it clenches around his hardened cock. The sound of squelching roams around the room, the mix of your juices and his cum are leaking out of your poor pussy.

"Because....it would mean that I will be separated...hah-..f-from you.." He bites down the flesh of your nape making your eyes widened-- letting out a loud moan as you clench your hands-- trying to endure the pain.

Caleb continues on slamming his gritty cock in your warm pussy-- feeling your climax near, the walls of your pussy tightened around his hardened cock.

"hah-...and we w-ouldn't want that right, s-sweetie?" He whispers, leaving a soft kiss over the bite mark making your breath hitch. You nod in response as you felt your climax releasing-- following Caleb's hot loading cum releasing inside your womb. Thrusting it a little more inside--making sure it takes.

There might be complaints tomorrow from the other officers about the questionable noises from the colonel's office.

Fics of Caleb:

(Wo)men in uniform.

Play your gun right!

Lasting Mark.

Mark your territory.

LADS Men as cigarettes after sex songs

His hand slides to your squirting pussy, rubbing circles on your clit. More slick jets out of you, soaking his palm. Squealing, you try to crawl away him him, gripping tightly on the blankets that have been slipping off the bed.

The delicious pressure against your clit releases, but Caleb pulls you back to his cock. He straightens your back to press against his chest, bottoming out in a single thrust to hit the deepest spot in your pussy. “Ngh, why are you running away? Didn't you say you'd last longer than me, pips?” He pants against your ear, hand tenderly running along your side to soothe you, yet his hips don't stop their merciless thrusts. “Or are you tapping out now?”

Perhaps hours ago, you would have answered with a vehement refusal. But now, with drool dripping from your lips constantly agape from moaning, your clit too sensitive from his insistent flicking and rubbing, and your thoroughly-fucked cunt filled with his loads of cum, the idea of calling it quits sounds appealing.

“I'll do whatever you want, baby. Just say the word,” Caleb murmurs against your skin, his lips molding over your neck to suck another hickey among the marks he already made. “If you want to stop, I'll run the bath and take care of you. We'll cuddle on the sofa and watch that new movie you've been looking forward to.”

His hips stop, having pulled all the way out, the tip barely brushing against your cunt. “But if you don't want to stop...”

Slowly, his hand travels up your torso, squeezing your tits. He plays with your nipples, evoking another gasp out of you. “I'll make you feel good. Fuck any other thought out of your mind so you'll only think of me.”

You whine as his cock rubs along your wet folds, catching on the strings of cum dripping from your pussy. The tip circles around your clit, teases at your opening, just putting it in enough to make you feel its thick girth, but he pulls out too soon.

“What will you choose, baby?”

Your hazy mind can't come up with clear thoughts, foggy from the pleasure. But forming an answer is the easiest thing to do—it's not like he left you with any other choice, anyway.

“Please fuck me, Caleb,” you sob, clinging at the arm cupping your breast. “Please put your cock inside me. Fuck me even if I tell you to stop. Cum... please cum more inside m- ahh!”

You're roughly flipped onto your back, but he holds your head softly to lay you down on the pillow. It's only at this moment that you get to see Caleb's face, brows furrowed, sweat dripping down his temples, his lip bitten red from the strain of holding back. “Shit... you really do know how to rile me up, pipsqueak.”

He looms over you, muscled arms caging you on the bed, chest heaving up and down as he pants. He fixes his position, resting his weight on his knees, and he uses his hands to spread your legs wider. His eyes are dark with lust while he stares at your abused hole, spilling cum on the sheets below you.

“Maybe this time, I really will fuck you pregnant.”

The statement doesn't even register in your mind because he immediately thrusts inside, pounding at your cervix. You gasp, aimlessly grasping at anything you could hold onto as you lose your mind, a fresh stream of cum soaking his cock.

His abs ripple with each thrust, the dirtiest groans and pants leaving his lips. “Fuck, you're so cute... cumming already when I just put it in.” Caleb leans closer, catching both of your wrists to make you wrap your arms around his neck instead of the dirty sheets. “When did you become such a pervert?” He drops his head to suck at your tits, licking your nipples.

It's your fault, you want to say, but all that leaves your mouth are noises you didn't think you were capable of making until Caleb touched you for the first time months ago, and he hasn't stopped since. You heard couples would be insatiable for the first few weeks of dating, but it feels like you're never going to go past that phase.

“Can't even speak because my dick's too good, huh?” Caleb chuckles, thumb resting on your lips. He rubs the tip of your tongue, pleased when you dart out to lick him. “You're the absolute cutest...”

The sounds between your bodies are downright lewd. His cum sloshes inside you every time he fucks you to the bed, forming a creamy ring at the base of his cock. He's filled you up so much with his huge cock and cum, that you wonder how you even have the space to breathe.

Caleb's the type to try to be quiet, but he's not holding back his moans now, groaning his pleasure against your ear.

“This feels too good, shit... Feel like I'm gonna cum soon...” He tucks the hair covering your face behind your ear, pressing a gentle kiss at the corner of your teary eyes, so different from the rough fucking he's giving to your pussy. “I'm gonna blow my load inside you. You want that, don't you?”

You nod desperately, leaning your face on his hand that's cupping your cheek. He smiles, nuzzling against you, but the sweet moment lasts only for a few seconds before he thrusts even faster, chasing his release.

“Fuck, here it comes, I'm cumming...” Caleb drives his cock the deepest it can go, his balls slapping against your ass. “Oh, fuuuuck, I'm cumming!”

Thick, hot strings of cum coat your insides once more, crammed into the tight space of your cunt. Your squirt splashes against his pelvis and abs as you moan high and reedy, scratching lines down his back. He hisses at the slight pain, spurting more cum at the feeling, and he collapses on your body, making sure not to suffocate you with his weight.

“Ah... damn... I don't think I've cum that hard in a while...” He ruffles through your hair, soothingly patting your head. “You doing okay?”

“You're too intense,” you say, your voice weak and groggy. You wrap your arms around him, content to fall asleep and let Caleb take care of things from here.

Whoever is leading you to your certain death stops in his tracks, nudging you into a cool room. You’re made to sit on a hard chair, and within seconds, your wrists are untied only to be bound again to the chair’s arms and something hard and circular is snapped onto your neck. 

“Unh—” you gasp when you hear the soft whir of the device starting. A sudden pressure wraps around your body, holding you back from resonating. Without your Evol, you’re defenceless and whoever has captured you knows it. 

“Don’t resist.” 

A cold voice pierces the silence. You stop squirming and peel your ears.

“W-who’s there?” You curse the stutter in your question, the trembling underlying your show of courage.

A Hunter resists and never gives up intel easily. Evasion Interrogation Class 101. You weren’t going to cave without a fight. 

The slow approach of boots on the hard floor thumps like the blood rushing through your ears. You tense, feeling the other person’s presence before you. 

Light floods your senses, and your eyes pry open when the blindfold is whipped off your face. You blink, trying to focus on the dark spot standing right in front of you. The furrow of his brow is the first thing you notice, then those piercing violet eyes.

No…

“Hey… Pipsqueak.” 

Your blood turns to ice in your veins, fear shooting up your spine.

It can’t be… you struggle to make sense of what you’re seeing, feeling your stomach dropping heavily right into the soles of your Hunter boots. It can’t… 

You mourned him. You watched your entire family—your world—go up in flames.

This stranger wearing his face sits down in front of you, legs spreading with ease under the stretch of his starched white pants. He’s in a decorated jacket, one you’ve never seen him wear before. It’s like the memory of all that you once knew of Caleb is corrupted with a dark veneer, giving way to this tainted version sitting before you with barely any emotion in his eyes.  

The familiar slope of his features, the same ones you’ve seen throughout the years, changing and growing, as intimate to you as your own breath, is cold and distant. 

Warm sunny days, the smell of freshly cut grass, a hand holding yours through the rain…

It disappears in a flash of lightning, the dark clouds rolling behind him like the dread churning right in your gut. 

Your voice is soft, fringed with disbelief, as the shock renders you immobile to the chair. 

“What?” He quips, and a shadow of his old smile appears. But, where there was once familiarity, now there only exists the ruins of everything you held dear. 

“Don’t you recognize me?” 

It’s as if he’s goading you. 

He picks up an apple from the centerpiece on the table next to the chair he has you strapped in, and holds it in his hand like it would give him all the answers in the world. His pensive gaze, those once wondrous violet eyes catching the last of the sun’s rays as it disappeared over a river, cloud over with an undeniable oppression. 

He can’t even look at you properly. 

“Did you honestly think I would always be the kind-hearted boy from your childhood?” 

Like a horror show unfolding, he lifts his gaze, looking right into your depths, as the snap of the apple's skin gives way to the tension of his jaws. A bit of its juice dribbles onto his lower lip, and you force yourself to tear your eyes away, needing to retain your wits. Caleb sets the fruit down, chewing thoughtfully, before lifting it to your lips. 

“Eat,” he murmurs softly, a shadow of his old self on the tired terrain of his face. “You must be starving.”

The sweet boy from your past can’t be coincided with this cold man right in front of you. Where you would’ve leapt at the opportunity to taste any dish from the labor of his kind hands, you fear this forbidden bite would poison you the second his tainted fruit touched your lips. 

Turning your head away, you glare at the rain-slicked windows, trying to hide the sting in your eyes.

Caleb, knowing how stubborn you can be, sighs and drops his olive branch offering.

“Fine.” His voice is flat. Unemotional. “Let’s get to the bottom of things, then.”

He stands, and you feel a fissure of fear opening in your chest when he retrieves his baton, removing his military cap and tossing it onto the table. 

“Why’re you here?” 

You refuse to open your mouth, glaring at him. Caleb shakes his head.

“You always have to make things so hard for me, don’t you, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs and steps closer to you, the fire in his violet gaze crackling. “You’ve always been insufferable since we were kids. Now—” he frowns. “—why are you here? And how did you find this place?” 

You find your voice, croaking out, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to? Are you sure?” He cuts you off coldly. Caleb straightens and adjusts his gloves. There’s a hint of a smile on his face, though it’s corrupted by the detachment oozing from his suddenly frosty demeanour. “You expect me to believe that? That you just stumbled into the scene like a stray kitten?” 

When you don’t speak, he sighs, kneeling down to your height. The warmth of his eyes is back and a lump forms in your throat.

“Caleb…” your whisper is soft. Tentative. He senses a chink in your defenses, a drop of blood in the ocean, and the gleam of his teeth reminds you of a shark.

“All you have to do is answer my questions, Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to stroke your hair. “Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl?” That same, mischievous smile plays on the corners of his lips, though it sends a chill down your spine, instead. “There’s more than one pair of eyes observing you in this room so I suggest you play nice.”

He pulls back again, depriving you of his warmth. “Now that you understand, we can have a friendly chat, hmm, Pips?” When you refuse to look at him, or give any indication you’re willing to cooperate, he sighs. 

Instantly, the sensation of a thousand bricks falling onto your shoulders hits you, and you scream, almost crushed by the pressure. Caleb uses this momentary distraction to kneel down and lock your ankles to the chair’s legs and snap a band around your right wrist, his other hand gently running the ghost of his touch up your ankle. The forcefield of his Evol deters him from ever touching your skin, and if you could look closer, you would’ve seen his throat bobbing from a harsh swallow.

“Do you remember that injured cat you brought back home? Back when we were kids?” He glares up at you. “I got a collar with a bell. That way, it couldn't escape without being noisy,” he gently squeezes your knee. “The same can be said for you—you’re not allowed to leave me again.” 

As he speaks, something sharp pokes your neck and you flinch. While your eyes are on him, the room starts to spin, and before you know it, you’re hunched over the chair, gasping and shaking.

“Caleb,” your voice sounds like you’re whispering from under the sea. “W-what’s—?”

“Don’t worry,” his reassurances warble back. “It won’t harm you—images in your brain,” his words flicker through your consciousness and you feel the collar tightening around your throat.

Shit… He had sanctioned a drug to be shot into your system. 

Your woozy eyes keep on sliding back to the floor. 

Caleb has drugged me.

“Where did you find the coordinates to this place?” 

You’re fighting a losing battle trying to keep your composure. Everything feels too loud—too bright. Digging your nails into the chair’s arms, you grit your teeth, fighting back against the wave of vertigo threatening to take you under. You feel like you’re on a rollercoaster, out of breath, the ground dangling far from your feet. Every sharp inhale you take makes you float higher and higher, till you think your brain would burst from the stratosphere of your skull.

Nero… Nero knew this… and he let you walk right into it.

Nero… The sound of Caleb’s voice pierces through your mind like bright light cutting past the fog. That’s good, Pipsqueak. That’s my good girl… Is Nero your colleague?

You think of him, in his horn-rimmed glasses, hunched over his screen.

Good, Caleb’s voice soothes you, a lifeline through this impenetrable fog your mind has settled in. And, why are you here?

The image of his dog tag with the apple charm takes over your mind, and it hits you too late that Caleb can possibly see your thoughts unfold. 

What are the possibilities that you can fight this? Your brain races. You feel like an astronaut stranded in space, isolated from gravity and light, as your spacesuit begins to fill up with water, almost drowning you.

A sharp jab to your chest makes your eyes flutter open, and his baton is pointed right at the apple charm hanging around your neck. Something softer, presumably made out of hide, brushes your chin as he studies the charm in between his fingers, his expression unreadable. 

“It’ll all be over soon,” he whispers, the switch flipping, “As long as you keep on cooperating.” 

You lean into his reassurances, a whimper slipping past your gritted teeth. 

“I know, I know,” he soothes, and stands before you, his hands clenched into fists. “But, it’s for your own good. Just a little longer, Pips.” 

He asks his final question: “Were you trailed?” 

You can’t stop the next thought from forming in your head of your Hunter’s watch. Instantly, the band is ripped from your wrist, and you hear a loud crunch. The air thickens and you close your eyes, trying to find your centre. The world threatens to spin off your axis; G-Force pressure right in your center threatens to tear you apart.

Please… make it stop… 

Like a switch has been flipped, the spinning cyclone in your mind stops. The sound of your harsh breathing and the erratic pulse in your ears is the only thing you can hear. Someone kneels right in front of you, and you don’t have the strength to push him away, not when he’s this close.

“Congratulations,” he says softly, stretching his hand like he wants to pat your head, but retracts it at the last minute. “You passed.” 

The collar slips off your neck, and you hear it being tossed onto the table. “Come here,” he whispers and unbinds you. Caleb lifts you into his arms, though not even his warmth can comfort you. 

Through the fog whirling in your mind, you make a snap decision.

Your hand collides into his cheek, the loud slap ricocheting around the room. He grunts, taken aback, and you use the momentum to swing your legs, wrapping your thighs around his neck so he’s forced to let go of you. Using every iota of balance you can muster, you land on your feet, none too gracefully. His hand wraps around your arm and practically hiss, sinking your teeth into his flesh.

Caleb gasps, and whips his hand back, glaring down at you. 

“Hey! It’s me—”

But, you’re not listening. You’re ready to pounce when he grabs your wrist, drawing you closer to him, pressing your cheek to his chest so you can hear the harsh rise and fall of his breathing.

“Pips, it’s me,” he tries earnestly again. “It’s me. I’m back.”

To your horror, you start to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

You sob and blubber like a child, growing weak in his arms as the hand in his grasp turns into a fist and you smack it weakly against his hard chest.

“How could you?” is the first thing you ask through your sobs. And, the next: “How’re you even alive?” 

Caleb looks away, like he might reveal too much if he stares into your eyes. “It’s complicated—”

“Bullshit,” your anger resounds in the room like the crack of a whip. You should’ve bit him harder. 

You think you see him flinch. You push away from his arms and he looks down at you, every crevice of his face dripping with desolation. There’s a glimmer of wetness in his eyes, and yet, you can’t trust it. 

You can’t trust him. 

“Pipsqueak,” he tries again, reminding you of the times when you were both younger, and he had to sweet-talk you out of a bad mood. “I know you must think some chip got put into my brain, or I’m no longer who I used to be. But, I’m still me,” he urges, and lifts your chin to meet his eyes. “I’m still Caleb. I never left.” 

You grit your teeth and with a strength neither of you expect you to have, you push him against the table, pressing yourself in between his legs. Caleb grunts, but doesn’t shove you aside. He looks up at you, with those same pitiful, defiant violet eyes that urges you to either kiss him senseless or claw his eyeballs out.

… Wait. 

Kiss him senseless? 

You shake your head, pushing those thoughts aside. As if he can’t control himself anymore, he runs his knuckles down the back of your thighs, the new (downright useless) mandated Hunters uniform showing off too much bare skin. But, you couldn’t care less about that right now. 

Right now, you have a score to settle with your oldest childhood friend.

“You’re still the same, huh?” Your hand presses to his chest, feeling the erratic pulse of his heartbeat under your palm. Even through all the layers he wears, you can still feel the heat of his body seeping past your skin. “You’re still the same Caleb I knew—the same one who walked through that damn door—” you growl, curling your hand into a fist and hitting it right into his sternum, “—and blew up on me?!”

“Pipsqueak—”

“Don’t you dare,” you seethe, baring your teeth. Though the tears continue to fall, your mind is honed in. Focused.

The need to obliterate him, to make him feel a shred of the same pain he had put you through for months, rears its ugly head.

Like he can read your mind—and you honestly think he can—he caresses your face, running his thumb over your jaw. The look on his face is pure regret, mingled with something unfathomable. You scent it in the lingering heat of his breath on your parted lips, or how much closer his face has gotten to yours. 

Right here, he’s in the palm of your hands… And yet, why is he still so painfully out of reach? 

“I don’t trust you,” the words slip past your numb lips before you can take them back. You grip his face, steadying those violet eyes on your furious ones. “I need to test you… to put you through a trial.”

The look of indignation on his face is delicious, and it whets your appetite for vindication. 

“A trial?” He almost sounds insulted. “What have I done wrong?” 

Your other hand slowly reaches for the front of his chest, running the tip of your finger down the starch lapels of his jacket. “You were missing. For months,” you grit out the words. “I need to check if you’re still him.”

“Still… me?” 

You growl and tighten your grip on his chin.

“What is my favorite food?” 

Caleb huffs, as if you had just asked him what color the sky was. “Braised chicken wings,” he murmurs almost sarcastically. “Next.”

You glance at the bite mark on his hand. “What is my favorite way of getting you back?” 

He raises a brow. “Biting. I remember how when we were kids, you bit me so hard, the mark took 15 days to disappear.”

You swallow. He’s correct again. 

Reluctantly, you loosen your grip on his chin. The position you’re both in hits you—his arm around your waist, his free hand still stroking the back of your thigh. Your one hand tangled in his jacket and the other still on his chin.

Heat floods your cheeks, and you recall him saying that there were more than one pair of eyes watching in this room. But, a part of you—the one who’s been deprived of Caleb for far too long, who had to contend with days of loneliness and missing him, couldn’t care less.

“Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, and his hand moves from your leg to your hair, gently nudging you deeper into the circle of his arms. The smell of him floods your nostrils with nostalgia and a hint of pine, the old Caleb you grew up with solidifying further and further under your touch. 

“Caleb…” 

Faster than two atoms on the path to collision, his lips are on yours.

Caleb kisses you like you’re the only source of oxygen left in his world. Something crashes onto the floor, and the plate of apples rolls onto the carpet, an orchard of sin scattered in between your legs pressed together. The sweet, tart flavor of the fruit he had just eaten saturates your tastebuds, and you moan when he desperately tangles his tongue with yours. 

He lifts you into his arms bridal style, and carries you down a narrow hallway you had never noticed before, the flashing thunder illuminating the gaudy paintings hung on the wall. 

He takes you to what looks like a medical room, though no one is in there. Your lips press to his neck, kissing and sucking on his pulse point. He hisses and in a low tone, warns, “Keep that up and you might regret it, Pipsqueak.” 

Gently, like you’re precious cargo, he sets you down onto the bed, those violet eyes like a newfound nebula fixed onto you, filled with the brightest stars in the galaxy.

Caleb runs his hand up your thigh, and you flicker your gaze to his gun holster. 

In the split second when he’s distracted, you lunge right for it, grabbing the handle.

He yelps, taken aback, but is faster, snapping his hand around your wrists to impede your movements. The gun drops from your grasp like dead weight, along with your hopes of ever escaping. If looks could kill, you would  be dead meat from the intensity of his glare.

Caleb exhales, fixing his frigid gaze onto yours. 

“Oh,” he chuckles, and you shiver at the dark edge in his tone. “You will pay for that.”

Gravity surrounds you like a weighted blanket, except it pins you to the bed rather than offering any comfort. Your whimper is lost behind the gloved hand that muffles your cries, hissing into your ear to, “Stay still, goddamnit.”

Caleb is breathing hard, a drop of sweat rolling from his temple down his throat. You feel it dripping onto your neck, your wild eyes fix on him. 

When he’s sure you won't retaliate again, he stands up from the bed, bearing down on you. Picking up the gun from the floor, he trails it right to your temple. His Evol hasn’t muffled your speech, but you don’t want to say a word to him, preferring to glare. 

“I asked you a simple question—”

“And, you know I can’t answer that,” he retaliates, recognizing what you’re trying to do. His brow furrows. “There are things I can’t tell you, Pips. Things you don’t even understand—”

“Then, help me understand!” You’re yelling now, close to tears. “Help me understand why you left… why you left me…” your voice breaks on the last word, and a look of regret shadows his face.

“I never wanted to.” The gun slides from your temple right to your jaw, but you’re not afraid of it. Nothing in the world can keep you from knowing the truth; from uncovering every layer in Caleb’s new facade. 

(But, maybe, this dark side of him has always been there, and you were just too blind not to notice). 

He takes a shaky breath. “If I had the choice to do it over again, I would’ve never—ever—left you.” 

Sincerity bleeds past the shades of night falling outside the window. Silence envelopes the two of you, and the realization dawns when he exhales your name.

“Pipsqueak…” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

You’re not his Pipsqueak anymore, the same way he is inexplicably not your Caleb anymore.

He gets back down to his knees, right in front of you. The look on his face is nothing short of misery, heavy with a thousand implications he could never divulge. 

You’re desperate, hungry for more. To know more, to feel more. To embrace the darkness brewing in you like the undeniable heat that’s simmering between your two bodies. 

“Do you hate it?” He asks softly, in a voice frayed with a thousand emotions, and you sense he’s not referring to your old nickname. Do you hate me? 

The silent question hangs heavy in the air, and without a second thought, you turn your face and press your lips to the barrel of his gun.

You can point a weapon at me, but you will never shoot, your kisses on the cold metal speak where words fail you. The gun trembles in his grasp, and between your body pinned to the bed from his Evol and a military-grade weapon pointed at you, what you’re doing is completely ballsy. And, insane.

“I know you have secrets,” you murmur as the cold metal tip travels to the nape of your neck. Despite himself and his rigorous self-control, Caleb is still a man. 

Still flesh and bone. Love and grief. 

“But, we’re a team, remember? You and me. Me and you. We work together, Caleb. Not against each other.” 

Your blurry mind tries hard to focus on the task at hand—needing to throw him off guard—but you can’t deny how the heat in his hooded eyes is making you feel.

He inhales sharply at your words, though the rest of his expression remains unreadable. “I told you, what I know is top secret and even you’re not allowed to know it.”

Those violet eyes trail down your susceptible body spread wide open for him on the bed, and you notice a flicker of hunger behind his dark gaze. 

You’ve always loved Caleb’s attention: whether he’s complimenting you on scoring a goal, or commending your plane model assembly skills. 

Everything you did was, to a degree, for him to see you. To finally accept you wholeheartedly and without restraint.

You were his little tail; the Pipsqueak who followed him around like his shadow.

And even now, when he has a gun right at your throat, all you can think about is how much you want to please him. 

Tilting your head back, you moan when the barrel slides down the valley of your breasts. His breathing is growing heavier; the look in his lilac eyes is stormy and dark.

“You… like this?” 

He sounds hoarse. In disbelief.

You nod. “I…” you lick your lips. “I love it.” 

The cool metal grazes your jaw, and when it taps on your lips, you don’t hesitate to part them. Glancing into those molten, violet eyes, you suck on the hollow tip, aware of his finger on the trigger and the look of undefiled lust on his face. 

“God,” he mumbles, hungrily eyeing how deep the barrel is down your throat. “You’re such a good, good little girl…”

He prises the gun from between your teeth, and the strands of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the spit-soaked metal shimmers in the low light. 

Caleb tosses the gun onto the table, growling as he crawls on top of you. 

The effect of his Evol fades, allowing you to move your feet, but his hands on your knees make sure you can’t pull off anything funny.

“You’re gonna lay back, and you’re going to be good,” he lifts your leg and kisses over your knee. It would be so easy to drive the hard cartilage right into his nose… but, you don’t want his hands to leave your skin. You want to see what he will do next. 

The off-duty Hunter uniform you’re wearing rides up your thighs, exposing the plush fat of your thighs. His gloves rasping on your skin drives a shiver up your spine. 

It’s like he refuses to engage in skin-to-skin, whether as punishment or a caution. 

You whine softly when his bigger body bears down on yours.

“Caleb…” 

He grasps your chin, none too gentle as he pulls you closer to him. “Look at you,” he growls, pushing himself closer—the heat of his body melting with yours. “Look at what you do to me.” 

It’s hard to even breathe when he’s close enough to devour your face. 

His breath grazes your cheek, and you close your eyes. Your oldest childhood friend savors the proximity, taking in a whiff of your clean perfume. 

Before your mind can play catchup, your body falls right into the orbit of his desire; lips on his, breaths mingling as one. 

“Fuck,” Caleb breathes, a moan pulled from the depths of his chest, tortured and strangled. “You taste so—nhng—” 

He gasps when your arms come to loop around his shoulders, dragging him almost between your legs. He steadies himself, gloved palms on the bed. You run your hands over the starch grooves of his jacket, finding the first button. 

Caleb lets your touch wander aimlessly, his breath caught in the back of his throat.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, those anguished violet eyes almost gouging into yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “Are you sure you want this?”

Are you sure you want me? 

As a silent answer, you lean forward, catching his lower lip in between your teeth. 

“Ngnhmhm,” he moans, gasping when you bite down hard. 

He tastes blood and your desperation, helping you unbutton his coat. The heavy chain slaps against your eager cheek in his rush to slide it off his arms. “Shit—sorry.” Cool fingers brush the afflicted cheek. “You alright, sweetness?” 

You nod, huffing and moving your hands to his other lighter jacket, unbuttoning it. He chuckles at your eagerness and helps you with the brass buttons. As the layer disappears, you’re confronted with another shirt.

“How many clothes are you wearing?!” Your cry brings a mischievous grin tugging on the corners of his lips. 

“Lots,” he murmurs and takes over with a nimble skill only a man of his caliber can have. The grey shirt melts off his broad shoulders, discarded onto the floor, and finally—fucking finally—he removes the black turtleneck, revealing smooth acres of warmed, tan skin right under your touch. 

You exhale shakily, running your fingers down his distinct pectorals, tugging on the dog tag around his neck. Your eyes land on the familiar apple charm.

“How—?” 

He thumbs the similar charm hanging from around your neck. For the first time this evening, he voluntarily gives up some information. 

“I—uh—had someone copy my old necklace.”

The look of disbelief on your face is enough to deter his next words. 

“You decoyed the necklace I gifted you?” 

Caleb winces. “C’mon, Pip—I-I mean, love…” he sighs and presses his palm to the back of your head, drawing you closer to peck your pouty lips. “It helped me make sure you were safe. Plus,” he adds, a touch of humor in his tone. “You did tell me you would kick my ass if I ever took it off.” 

You struggle to understand the layers behind his words, fighting to form a reply when his lips travel to the juncture of your neck, softly kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh. 

Focused on retrieving the truth, you fight hard against his best efforts at derailing you. “You—mhm—were tracking me? All this time?” 

Caleb doesn’t pause his sensual assault, groaning softly. “Won’t call it tracking per say…” 

You want to get mad. Truly, you do. But, the feeling of his teeth grazing your pulse point melts any coherent thoughts left in your brain.

The confusion you felt before gives way to something deeper. Unrestrained. He kisses you again, and you absorb the feeling of warm skin under your palms, feeling the heat of his body thrumming under your touch. His muscles expand and contract with every shaky breath, his chest pressed so intimately to yours.

You squirm, and he hisses, restraining your hips to the bed.

“Stop that,” he hisses. 

Confusion overtakes you, and  you want to ask what’s wrong when he winces and shifts his hips further from yours, instinctively setting a physical boundary you want gone immediately.

“Are you scared?” It’s your turn to goad him. If he thinks you’re going to be nothing but docile and wanting, he’s been away for far too long. 

His lips twitch. “Of you? Nah. But, of what I can do?” His voice drops an octave, and he leans in, one gloved hand going to your chin, holding it in place. “If anyone should be scared, it’s you.” 

Caleb tests the waters of this new dynamic unfolding between you two, dipping his fingers past the gap of your lips. The breach should make you pull away, take a step back to reassess the situation.

But, you’re as much under his spell as you have bewitched him. 

The taste of earthy hardness fills your mouth, and you suck on his thumb obediently. 

Caleb looks down at you, the heat in his eyes almost touching the boiling point. A few more moments of your teasing, and he would be close to bursting and taking you right on this bed. 

Never one to be satisfied with what he is allowed to take, Caleb pushes his luck further, sinking his thumb deeper down the soft gullet of your throat; compressing your gurgled words down to the bottom of your mouth in his journey to devour everything you can give him. 

“Oh, fuck.” He groans when you take another finger into your mouth like you were meant for him. “That’s a good girl… my good little girl…” 

You moan around his digits stuffed down your throat, peeling your watery eyes to his smirking expression.

“Cat got your tongue, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, and stretches your jaw with a third finger. You’re so full of the taste of him, you start to choke. “You look so pretty like this—not a thought in your brain, just relying on me to make you full… to make you whole.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, but deep down, it’s true.

The grief that clashes with his year-long absence, this “new” side to him you are starting to unravel… the old Calen, the one you loved and looked up to, is starting to metamorphosize right before your eyes.

“Cwaleb—” you whimper past his fingers. 

He’s barely laid a hand on you and you’re already folding. 

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he discreetly wipes off your spit on the bed sheets, fixing you with an arched brow. 

As if asking: Well… your move, Pipsqueak. 

Your hands fly to the buckle of his military pants, the sound of his zipper dragging down punctuating the air like a crass remark. 

Caleb stiffens when he feels your cool finger dipping past the waistband and he shudders, mind going hazy at a touch he had only dreamed off but never thought would come true. When you reveal him to the cool air, he’s half-flaccid, already at a six inch mast and the prettiest shade of pink you have ever seen with an undertone of mauve.

He’s part of the thicker team, though length-wise, it would make any woman scream and cream. Heavy balls. A slight curve. Growing up pumped full of hormones, you had secretly wondered how your oldest childhood friend’s cock would look like, but you never once anticipated seeing it in real time.

“Holy…” you trail off, and he grins.

“Like what you see?” 

You’re spread out for him on the threadbare sheets like a vision from a forbidden oasis. As much as he wants to bury himself in you, Caleb needs to make sure you’re ready first. He licks his lips, whets his appetite, and fills up your empty mouth with his tongue. 

“Mhm…” you groan into the depths of his mouth. “Caleb…” You swallow, and deciding to throw him off, you murmur a word he thought would never, ever come out from your mouth: 

“Sir,” you whimper. “ Kiss me harder…” 

Sparks go off in his mind. He feels like the force of the explosion has finally caught up with him a year later and his breath is knocked out from his lungs. 

“What did you say?” 

His deep violet eyes devour the look of wanton desire on your face, mind drawing a blank.

Did you just…? 

Did he hear it right? 

“Again,” he almost stutters, desperately needing to hear that word from your lips. “Say that word again.”

The restraint in your mind is at best a flimsy net letting your inhibitions fly freely. “Sir,” the word drips from your lips like the sultriest confession; the look on his face like that of a holy man scandalized. Except Caleb wasn’t holy—he was hardly a saint. He was the scum of the earth trying to lay his corrupted hands on a being far too precious for him. 

Immolating from his own self-hatred, it’s hard for him to fathom that you want this—that you want him. 

“Please,” your whisper cuts through the tension of the self-inflicted torment settling onto pensive demeanor. “Please… make love to me, Sir.”

All his years of restraint—of immaculate self-control—snaps like the last leaf off an autumn branch. He rains dizzying kisses down onto the jut of your collarbone, summer rain sweeter than sin on your tongue.

Caleb removes his pants, kicking the heavy material down to the floor as he works his boots off frantically with the toes of each alternating foot. 

The feel of his body on yours, almost smothering you to the mattress, drives you wild with a heat stoking right in the heart of your core.

“Sir,” you murmur, almost dizzy with lust. 

He pops open the buttons of your dress, slipping it down your shoulders. The swathes of your bare skin presented for him makes him feel like he’s barely lucid, lost in a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. With one hand, he expertly unhooks your bra and slides it down your body, tossing it onto the floor where it joins his pants.

Caleb is barely restrained when he pushes you back onto the bed, his lips finding refuge in the juncture of your neck and shoulders. He nips, licks and sucks like his life depends on marking you; the sight of his marks on your skin only serves to make his feral need rise higher and higher. 

He takes refuge right at your chest, nibbling and nipping the plush fat of your breasts till you’re practically vibrating with excitement, your nipples wet with his spit and aching for more of his touch. 

The dark haired man can barely stop himself from what he does next—sliding your dress further down your body till the rise of your lace panties appears in his sights like the sun breaking over the horizon.

He feels the warmth of you on his face, right in his cheeks as your thighs tighten around his head.

“Oh, love,” he groans, like a man starving. “C’mere, Princess—”

He pulls you closer till your pelvis bumps his chin and you squeak, feeling his hot breath graze your bare skin. 

“Caleb—”

Your protests die an immature death when he buries his tongue right into your tight cunt. He moans at your taste, the lightning playing with shadows all over your body, illuminating the pulsing beats of darkness hiding behind those violet eyes. His pupils almost swallow those lilac orbs whole, their darkened gaze latched right onto you. 

“God,” he mumbles like a man tasting manna for the first time. “... s’sweet… this pussy is so sweet…”

The charming, charismatic and kind Caleb from before would’ve never dared utter such words in front of you. But, his other twin in bed, the one who wears his face complete with a devilish smirk, rolls his tongue over your syrupy folds, moaning at your flavor.

You taste like candied apples, and Caleb thinks he could eat you up whole. 

He squeezes more moans past your sweet lips when he draws all your folds into his mouth, spitting it back out only to do it again and again and again. 

“You’re so wet,” he slurs, those pretty purple eyes already pussy-drunk. “So fucking wet f’me.” 

Your legs spread, wrapping around his shoulders, the taste of your cunt almost coating the back of his throat—Caleb couldn’t be more in love with you.

“Mhm,” he moans, a sight in between your legs, chin slick with your juices, eyes half-closed in pure ecstasy. 

“You’re so full for me… dripping down everywhere,” he murmurs, placing a quick kiss onto your twitchy clit. “I could drink you for days.” 

Your cries and moans only fuel him to be meaner. Now that he has you in the palm of his hand, he’s not planning to let go of you anytime. 

It’s filthy, animalistic, and utterly raw. The emotions he evokes in you quakes through your soul, seeping out of your core only to be consumed by him, your lust growing his lust, his moans inciting your yearning. 

Caleb continues his gentle assault on your clit with his tongue, grinning against your cunt. 

“Louder… let them hear you.” He slips one leather-clad finger inside your pussy, pressing down on the spongy, soft spot. Those pretty lips wrap around your clit, giving it a gentle suck and you fold. 

You keen, tangling your fingers in his hair. It’s one thing to be eaten out this thoroughly, but another to be subjected to such pleasurable torture by a man who has hungered for you for years.

“Good girl,” the bridge of his nose almost rubs your clit raw when he buries his tongue even deeper inside you. “Louder,” he moans past flesh and more pussy juice gushing onto his chin. “Make it messy, baby.” 

Caleb… Caleb… your breaths come out in huge gasps, your back arching off the bed. 

He makes unravelling you look so easy, and you’d be absolutely pissed off if he wasn’t edging you towards the biggest orgasm of your life. 

While you’re in the throes of your pleasure, you feel his gloved hand wrap around your throat, thumb pushing past your flush lips.

“Mhm—” you moan at the flavor of him saturating your tongue. “Oh… Caleb—”

“Yeah,” he growls, chest rumbling. “Say my name, baby. Say it. Scream it.”

“Caleb,” your moans double in volume, the pleasure about to burst from your seams. “Oh, Caleb—!” 

Heat, wetness, a deep, stirring pleasure threatening to consume you, and then—

Nothing.

Caleb pulls away, squeezing your thighs. He rips off the gloves, and finally—finally—you feel his skin on yours.

The rasp of his warmth across your thighs drives goosebumps down your arms. “Shit,” you whimper when he pushes your thighs further apart to settle in between them. His body smothers yours, encompassing you in the pure mass that is his weight bearing fully down onto your exposed body.

Bastard. He leaves you hanging, reeling from a ruined orgasm, as you glare at him, your anger and indignation sputtering and dying on your tongue.

“Caleb! You—you—”

He grins, dark and sweaty bangs falling all over face as he drags you closer by the hips. 

“Open wide, pretty,” Caleb coaxes, thumbing the head of his pretty cock, smearing precum all over his digit. 

Fuck—ah… you groan sinfully. The sight of him pleasuring himself is seared in your brain. You bite your lower lip, shifting your hips. Need drips from your gasping breaths and your head is spinning.

Easy, he murmurs. I gotcha.

Caleb lifts your hips in his large hands, finding the perfect angle before slipping the sticky head between your folds. Your gasp grazes his ears in a warm puff, a telltale sign of your unexpected surprise at how good this feels.

It reminds you of those times when he would tease you as kids—always holding something out of reach and never giving in unless you begged nicely.

And, you sense it’s what he’s doing right now. Mercilessly teasing, testing your patience. Waiting for you to beg.

Caleb grasps the base of his hefty cock and runs it over the mess of your creases, soaked with your excitement for him. He teasingly pushes the plump head past the slutty ring of muscle gaping open for him, and heaves in a deep groan, like that of a beast about to breed his mate. Your eyes are crossed with pleasure, and you’re whimpering sweetly, no thoughts forming in your brain besides more, more, more.

You ache for him, but all you can do is take his teasing. “Please,” you huff, peeling your docile, little lamb eyes onto him, wishing he would relent and just fuck you.

The sheets twist in your fist and your other hand is tangled in his sweat-soaked hair.

Caleb uses one hand to brush his damp bangs off his face, and he grins, intent on making you pliable to his every whim. He presses a kiss to your jugular, biting down on it, relishing in your jolt of pleasure.

You’re so sensitive, even his pelvis grinding down on your clit feels good and you shift your hips higher, desperate for more friction—for more of him.

“Sir,” you sputter, woozy. “Please… please…” 

Caleb hums, lifts your thighs over his broad, muscular shoulders. The slight tilt spreads you out for him, a wildflower blooming under his touch. You’ve captivated him with your scent, your skin, your sweet sounds…

But, little does he know, you’re equally enraptured; caught in his trap. 

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs hoarsely. “Pretty when you beg. Pretty when you look at me like you can’t wait a second longer…”

His wet lips swell around your pulse point again, flowering heated kisses onto your sensitive skin.

“Nghh—Caleb,” you whimper and he chuckles—that bastard.

“You ready, sweets?” He teases you, shooting you a smug, stupid smile much to your consternation. 

You want to roll your eyes and be crass, asking him to just give up and put it in, but your words get stuck right in your throat when you realize you're already on the verge of losing it altogether.

You take one good look at him, and wet your lips, yielding with a nod. 

“Yes, Sir.”

Your obedience is like a hit of ecstasy for him, firing up his veins, and he moans, shifting closer to you. The bulbous tip jostles deep inside you as another inch is added and you writhe, eyes squeezed close in delirium. “Mhnmph!” 

Your moans shoot through his veins like licks of a strong, disorientating drug and Caleb groans. His hefty body is already shaking from the strain, and he doesn’t know how long he can last. His thighs shudder, and he has to bite on his lower lip to keep from moaning like a goddamn loser when he finally sinks his dick all the way into the love of his life. 

“Mhm—ah!” Your nails dig into his shoulders and he hisses. 

He gives you a split second to get used to the sensation, nothing more, nothing less. Obviously, he’s waited for you for his entire life. Etiquette and consideration can come later—all he wants to do right now is fuck the ever loving shit out of you. Caleb sets a pace, one that has you twitching, and he seethes at your lack of resistance.

“You’re—hnng, already so eager,” he snarls. “Been dreaming about this? About my cock?”

The sight of your decoyed necklace slapping against your skin from every thrust drives him dizzy with lust. His name on the dog tag, the apple charm looking so innocent and snug right in the valley of your luscious tits. It doesn’t take much to please a man like him and Caleb is as happy as a dog who got the best bone. 

He gnaws on your shoulder, teeth making indents on your precious skin.

Your thighs tighten around his shoulders, body almost folded in half like a pancake.

Caleb… Caleb… you whisper-gasp, the darkness of the room and the subsiding storm outside the windows lending to the dark yet intense atmosphere.

He licks along your bottom lip, sucking on your tongue. You taste so good, Princess…

Your whimpers brush his chin and his hair tickles your sternum as he ducks his head lower, bringing your stiff peaks into his mouth. He nurses and suckles on you, a fiendish look in his eyes.

“Mhmph—you taste like sin,” he groans deeply, the sound travelling all the way down to your core. The forbidden fruit, right here in his arms and like a selfish man, he wants more.

Without warning, gravity disengages around your body and you’re pinned to the ceiling in the blink of an eye. 

It feels surreal to look over his shoulder, at the bed hovering above your head, the medicine cabinet and lamp all peering up at you like a twisted version of wonderland. 

“Caleb—!” 

He silences your protests with a harsh kiss, licking and sucking on your lower lip till you whimper and quiver. Deftly, he guides your hips away from him and lets gravity do the rest. You sink down—full and to the hilt. He’s so deep in you, you swear you can taste him all the way in the back of your throat. 

Caleb fucks you this way—mean, demanding—using gravity and his Evol to his advantage. 

You writhe and twist in his grasp, head thrown back. The ceiling wall is cold against your back, though he’s warm enough to the touch to make your head spin.

Bodies press intricately, you can’t tell where he begins and where you end. Like two snakes interlocking, you feel Caleb everywhere. His breath on your neck, his hands roaming down your body possessively, the feel of his thick girth hitting every spot just right.

Drool drips down your chin, and you feel him chuckle; the rough rasp of his tongue lapping it up.

Messy girl, he drawls, smacking his lips. A smug grin tugs on his mouth, giving his boyishly handsome face a devilish touch. 

Give me more, he urges. More. Make it messy, Princess.

He sucks on your pulse point, your neck the perfect canvas for his marks. Nuzzling you close, you feel the tenderness behind his searing need.

His cock molds into you like a perfect fit. The sound of his hefty balls slapping wetly against your skin fills the room with a salacious symphony. 

Caleb, Caleb, Caleb. You can’t control the stream of moans escaping your puffy lips. He kisses you hard again, deepening it and letting his tongue tangle with yours in a passionate dance. Your heart swells with adoration for him; his flavor heavy on your tongue, sousing through your senses like a creeping heat reaching towards its completion. 

His touch kindles up more desire as if you’re dry straw waiting to catch fire, and oh—does he let you burn. 

Strings of your pussy juice drip past his balls, streaking his thighs like filthy snail trails. The shine of your own arousal dribbles past the pert curve of his fit ass, and ribbons into droplets falling from the ceiling like it’s goopy rain. 

Caleb doesn’t care about the mess you’re making. All he wants is to see you unravel.

Your cheeks flushed, eyes crossed—he leans in to kiss you hard, needing to taste your desperation firsthand.

Your hot moans give everything up to him, your body quaking like a tempest ready to unleash hell onto his self-control. 

He grunts when you fist his hair, finding your rhythm as you fuck him back, meeting him in the middle. The sway of your hips tells him all he needs to know—his little mei mei isn’t as innocent as he thinks she is.

“—taught you how to fuck like that?” He grunts, lapping at a bead of sweat about to freefall from your chin. 

“Huh?” You peel your watery eyes on his, his sticky kiss gracing your cheek.

“Said—who taught my sweet, innocent, little Pipsqueak to fuck like this?” 

He punctuates his emphasis with two harsh thrusts, his length jabbing your cervix. 

You grunt, eyes rolling back into your head. “N-no one—fuck,” you whine when he slips one big hand between your bodies, rolling his thumb over your lubricious clit.

“A-ah!” your cries rebound across the room as he plays with your fleshy pearl, thumbing circles onto it vigorously, hoping to glean your confession. “Ngh—Caleb!” 

Your thighs begin to shake, and his grin turns wolfish. “Won’t let you come ‘less you tell me the truth, Pipsqueak. M’waiting.”

He stamps a possessively hard kiss onto the nape of your neck, like he’s trying to drive the mark of his mouth past your skin. 

“I’m telling the truth,” you whimper. “Never had no one—no one but you.”

A deep, guttural groan brushes the soft shell of your ear.

“Swear?” he demands. 

“Uh-huh,” you hiccup, all dulcet and demure with the position he has you in. Your lachrymose eyes are fixated on him and only him—Caleb thinks his body might burst from all the blood swelling in his cock and heart.

He huns, and runs his tongue down your clavicle. “Good girl… good little Pips.”

The nickname combined with his derogatory tone inadvertently makes you clench around him tighter, and he hisses. 

“You’ll be the death of me, y’know?” His eyes darken and he drives his hips harder as if trying to make a point. “Gonna make sure you never leave my side—we’ll always be together. Forever.” 

You whine and dig your nails into his biceps. 

“Caleb—” you gasp, almost falling out of his grasp and face down onto a bed 10 feet below you. But, he tightens his grip, and you know he would never let you go. 

He shuffles you deeper into the alcove of his body, and you tighten your hold around his neck. “You—mhm—are insane.”

“Yeah?” He grins. “Only for you, Pips.”

Tingles running down your spine, and you feel hot and cold at the same time. He fixes his sights on your glassy gaze, enjoying how wrecked you look under him. 

(Well, technically, above him with the power of his Evol, but eh, semantics). 

The storm outside is no match for the one raging inside of you, and you cling onto him like a second skin, drunk off the pleasure he’s inducing in you. Kissing his jaw, nipping his lower lip. Caleb grunts when you press your chest to him, the feeling of your pert nipples rubbing against his toned pecs making him feel like this is all a dream—one he doesn’t want to wake up from.

Too soon, his vision to see you come undone flashes as you toss your head back and moan his name.

“Caleb…”

Your whimper is a signal of your impending release, and he grits his teeth, driving his hips further into you, planting his knees on the water-stained ceiling and going ham on your pliant body. 

He feels you shuddering around him, dipping his head to feast on the sweat slicking your tits.

He glances up at you, catching your eye the second your release tears through you, his smirk making your heart skip a few beats.

Caleb feels the heat stirring in his own belly. You’re down for the count, holding onto him like a washed up doll whose lax mouth occasionally lets out a few moans and whimpers.

So pliant… so malleable… so easily molded to his whims…

Breaking you clean, he wants to dominate every inch of your body—claim your thoughts as his so that all you think, feel and want is him.

“Ngh,” he groans, burying his face into the crook of his neck as he finally breaks and fat loads of hot cum fill you up.

Caleb holds you closer—securely—as he reels his Evol in, and slowly floats down onto the bed with you in his arms.

With the combination of the serum, your release and this newfound dynamic between you and Caleb, you’re out cold in seconds.

He feels your body going limp, giving way to sleep and presses his nose into your hair. For a few moments, he refuses to let you go, arms protectively wrapped around you. 

Then, the peace is shattered by a polite knock on the door. 

“... Colonel… we need to evaluate her…”

Shit. He licks his lips and groans softly. You’re so warm, so comfortable in his arms. He can’t let you out his grasp. 

But, duty calls and the Farspace Fleet is a minefield of legality. He can’t steal away and run off with their test subject.

Not yet, at least. 

As much as he wants to stay like this with you forever, Caleb steels his heart and pulls out of your warm, slurry depths. He dresses you first, and then gets himself presentable. 

First Commander Brigette of the medical aide steps in at his signal. Her silver hair is tightened into a bun and mirrors the tight look of dismay on her face. 

“Sir, it is imperative—”

“Don’t. Not now,” he mutters tersely and straightens his tie. “Just check if her vitals are alright. And, don’t you dare mention this to anyone else, you hear me? If you do, things’ll get messy for me—the next round of body bags hasn’t been shipped in yet.” 

She nods, though she looks like she wants to argue. 

The rest of the fleet didn’t yet know of his true relationship with you—to them, you’re just a pretty face their Colonel took a fancy to. And, he wants to keep it that way for as long as he can while he formulates the best plan to get you to safety. 

“The sedative we gave her was meant to lower her inhibitions enough to confess,” Brigitte murmurs. “I didn’t think—”

“If she doesn’t wake up, I’m throwing you and your team right into the Deepspace tunnel,” he threatens. 

The award-winning scientist flinches, and lowers her gaze. “Colonel Xia, we will recover the antidote for her quickly.”

Caleb exhales, the tension in his broad shoulders lessening slightly. That’s what he likes to hear. 

Brigette soon finishes her rounds of physical examinations on you. She bows and exits the medical room, leaving him alone with you again. 

Caleb steps forward and gently runs his gloved fingers through your hair. In the silence of the fleet, where mechanical whirs mingle with his steady breathing, he makes you a promise that he will do everything in his power to fulfill.

“I swear I’m getting you out of here in one piece, Pipsqueak.” He leans forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Swear it on my life.”

He told you before that you would always see him when he came home and this time, he intends to keep his promise till the very end.

a/n: i need this man biblically and carnally,,,, feedbacks and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

Huffing, you bring out a box of Christmas lights, completely entangled together in a wiry mess, and you groan at the thought of spending hours trying to get one end loose from the other. Sure, Christmas Eve is a time for families to gather together and enjoy the festivities with merriment, food and one too many glasses of bourbon, but as much as you would love to spend time with Caleb on his rare days back in Linkon, there’s a lingering thought in the back of your mind, connected right to the Hunter’s watch on your wrist.

As you check through the notifs, you miss the front door clicking open, the soft scuffle of boots on the wooden floor only reaching your distracted ears when the person was a few feet from you. Despite your wicked fast reflexes, Caleb is quicker, caging you in his arms, pulling you tightly to his chest as his boyish laughter grazes your ears. 

“Really, pipsqueak? Being distracted could cost you some Hunter brownie points.”

“Caleb!” you squeal, whirling around and smacking his chest, your eyes sparkling at the sight of him. “When did you get here?! I didn’t even hear your bike.”

He releases his grip on your waist, spinning you to face him, taking you in with his warm gaze. You didn’t miss the dark circles under his eyes, stress-induced from nights in a world so far above the ground, with secrets you sense he could never tell you. 

“Guess someone was more distracted than I gave her credit for,” he teases, ignoring your probing gaze.

You tighten your grip on his arm, and pull him closer, scrutinizing him from head to toe. “And you look like you haven’t slept in days.” 

“Jeez,” he worms out of your grasp, though his cheery disposition remains unflappable. “Are you trying to steal my thunder? I’m the one that’s supposed to be the nagger, not the other way around. And you look like you’re short of a few days of sleep, too, Pips.” 

It never surprises you how at ease he makes you feel. Banter and laughter flow freely between Caleb and you, and where words fall short, the silence remains warm and companionable. The scent of food is in the air, and you take a moment to inhale the fragrance of warm bread leaving the pan greedily. Caleb makes your favorite baozi, the sweet dough mingling with the succulent fattiness of the pork belly sandwiched between the two buns melting on your tongue, sending sparks of serotonin straight to the pleasure center of your brain. 

He watches you eat with a twinkle in his eye. “Good?” 

"Heavenly,” you practically moan, and take another bite. You miss his eyes darkening, the quick aversion of his gaze from your blissed-out face.

“Mhm. Glad you love it,” he raps the table with his knuckles and stands, focused on the tasks ahead. “We’ll pick up Gran from the care center tomorrow and return home. Can I trust you with the turkey, Pips?” 

You nod, dusting your fingers free from crumbs and standing, too. “Got it. Turkey. What about the cupcakes?” 

“Oh, I can get them delivered. Don’t worry,” he reassures with a grin. “Wouldn’t want Gran to worry about us stuck in Christmas traffic.” 

He’s got a point. When Christmas Eve arrives, the streets of Linkon bustle with throngs of bodies hurrying down the sidewalks, a sense of urgency and excitement in the air. You’re carrying the turkey back to your bike when a familiar vibration on your wrist pulls your attention from strapping the bird tightly into your rear basket, and your heart falls when you see the fluctuation pattern. 

Wanderers. 

Your mind rushes with the implications of what comes next, and in your ear, the ever-present comm beeps, Nero’s voice on the other end briefing Team Alpha. 

“... interrupt Christmas break… urgent deployment to Chansia City—team of explorers—Caves—” 

It comes in bits and pieces. You’re struggling to listen while kicking your bike into gear, revving back home to pack for the overnight mission. 

“Nero, slow down—which part is overrun?” Jenna demands, her voice crisp from the other end of the line. 

“—Chapel Bay. We need reinforcements—”

Kicking up dirt in your wake, you zip back home, arriving in time for Caleb to poke his head past the door, his greeting dying on his lips when he sees the tension radiating off you in waves.

“Pipsqueak, what’s wrong—?”

There’s no time to consider softening the blow when an entire neighborhood is at risk of being wiped out by Wanderers.

“I just got a call to go to Chansia. There’s been a huge Wanderer attack.” You pry the turkey from your bike’s rear basket and hand it to him, sprinting back into the house to pack when a tight grip on your wrist stops you.

“Slow down, Pipsqueak,” Caleb urges, his eyes wide with trepidation. “Did you just say Chansia?” 

You nod, and something in his expression darkens.

“You can’t go.” 

“Wh—?” 

Before you can protest, Caleb slams the front door closed, barricading it with his broader build. “Pips, that area is certified Wanderer territory after the Profield Fall six months ago. Going there would be signing your death sentence .” 

His words ring in your mind, leaving behind a tremor of fear. But, your stubbornness and need to help takes precedence over whatever hesitation you might feel, and you shake your head.

“Caleb, it’s my job—”

“ Y/N, please.” 

No Pipsqueak, Pips, or short stack …

Your eyes widen as the realization hits you square in the chest. Caleb is completely serious about this. You take a step back when he corners you against the wall, those amethyst eyes shining with a desperate plea for you to listen to him—just this once.

“Trust me when I say this—the DAA knows what’s going on there and we’ve escalated it to Zone Three status. You could die there, Y/N—”

“Caleb, I can’t just leave my team behind!” 

He swallows hard, crossing his arms and in a tone brokering no argument, he utters: “Give me Captain Jenna’s number right now.” 

You gape at him, wondering if he’s lost his mind. “ Are you trying to get me fired? ” 

“Family code for the Hunter’s Association means family members can refuse to allow a Hunter to serve—”

“Now you’re just making things up!” 

Your cheeks burn hotly with indignation, eyes narrowing at the sight of his wilful glare. Deep down, Caleb is just worried for you, his overprotective big brother tendencies leaving him resolutely firm on not allowing you to go. But, you’re not a kid anymore, and this is the duty you swore to uphold. Family or not, Caleb has no right to stop you from leaving.

“No,” you reiterate, standing your ground. “Caleb, this is unacceptable. You can’t just dictate when I can do my job just like that!” 

“Oh, I can and I will.” 

You feel a firm tug around your waist, and to your horror, his Evol snatches your phone from deep inside your pants pocket. “Hey—!”

He holds it above your head, no longer goofing around like he usually does when he teases you like this; expression serious and unyielding. “Tell me your phone password now.” 

You seethe, wondering if he’s lost his mind. “Absolutely not!” Palm to his chest, he grunts, feeling the first stirrings of your Resonance piercing through the atoms binding his telekinesis together, goading him to explode. He grabs your wrist with the other hand, a mutinous and unfamiliar glare twisting his mouth into a sneer.

“Oh, don’t even think about using your Evol on me, little missy.” With a staggering strength you thought he would never use on you, Caleb drags you closer, pressing your thumb on the phone’s biometric sensor. It lights up and your phone unlocks, leaving him privy to your contacts.

In one swift motion, you kick him right in the bend of his knee, knocking him off balance. Caleb yelps and the turkey you so carefully transported back home goes crashing to the ground along with his knees hitting the carpet. Moving fluidly, you grab his shoulder, restraining his arm behind his back, forcing him to relinquish his grip on your phone where it clatters onto the floor. 

“Pips—”

You push your knee right in between his shoulder blades, forcing him to the ground. 

Caleb grunts in pain, but you’re too angry to even care about his discomfort.

“How dare you come in the way of my job?” You spit out, increasing the force of your knee into his back. “You have no right, Caleb. None.” 

“I was just—”

“What’s going on?!” 

You both glance up to find Gran staring at you in horror, frozen in her wheelchair. It’s been years since she saw a fight this bad between you and Caleb—the last one being when you two were angsty teenagers. At the look of dismay on her face, you hesitate and ease up, letting him go. Caleb rises with a derisive scoff, and without a second glance, tosses your phone back to you, remaining indifferent when you fumble to catch it. 

“Fine. But, don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you’re going through with this, then I have nothing else to say to you.”

He walks away, his head bent, broad shoulders tense with frustration. You watch him disappear back into the kitchen and glance down at the mess of the turkey scattered on the floor—reminding you of the chaos you’ve brought to what was supposed to be a day of family and celebration. How you single-handedly ruined Christmas Eve. 

“Gran, I’m—”

She raises a hand to stop your string of excuses and apologies. “Whatever you need to do, go and do it. Just come back in one piece, dear.” 

You glance at the deep set lines of her face, the kindness in her eyes you didn’t deserve. “Could you tell him…?” You trail off, and flicker your gaze to the kitchen. Gran nods, imperceptibly understanding your request. 

“I’ll speak to him, don’t you worry.” 

Taking one last look at her, you nod and hitch the strap of your purse higher, thoughts already racing on the logistics of returning to the Association base and retrieving your hunting gear. As you straddle your bike, you steal a final glance at the kitchen window, wondering if he could see you pulling away. But, the curtains are drawn, and the lights dim.

Feeling the melancholy of separating on such awful terms with him, you kick up the bike stand and zip down the highway to your unknown fate, ready to fight Wanderers despite how much every fiber in your body was screaming at you to turn around and make things right with Caleb. 

Caleb stares at the phone in his hand. It’s been three days since he last heard from you; since he last saw you. 

He’s gone through the entire cycle of grief the whole time you’ve been missing from his side: denial that you had the nerve to hurt him after all he’s done for you, anger at the way you dismissed his concerns and complaints about him mother henning you when all he wants is to ensure your safety; bargaining with the voices in his mind to forgive and forget; a crippling depression at the lack of consideration you had for him by not even bothering to reach out and finally acceptance that come what may, you had to return home.

He wouldn’t rest till he sees you again—till he makes sure you’re safe and whole.

But, when the fourth day trickles by with still no sign or contact from you, anxiety gnaws him right to the bone and he can’t focus on anything else but the chirp of his phone, heart pounding wildly and breath hitching as he picks it up, hoping to see the golden notification which will indicate you’re still alive. 

He’s disappointed time and time again. 

Yet, he doesn’t switch off his phone or mute it. Caleb reasons if you ever did call him, he would always be on standby to berate you. 

(And ask you when you’ll be coming home again so he can prepare to see you). 

His heart echoes a dull thud that grows murkier and darker with each growing day of your absence. Till he can’t take it anymore and punches in the emergency number you left on the fridge, hearing the dial tone that echoes forlornly in the background of this empty kitchen soaking in the last rays of sunset.

The call doesn’t go through, and he tries the other number you left for him. 

“Hello?” 

Mercifully, a woman answers and his white-knuckled grip on the phone tightens. 

“Hi,” he stutters and feels like a fool. “My name is Caleb. I’m… Y/N’s friend,” clearing his throat, he presses on. “I haven’t heard from her in days and I’m starting to, uh, get worried. Is she—?”

He barely gets the question out when the woman interrupts him, not unkindly. 

“Caleb, isn’t it? You’re her adopted brother. My name is Jenna and I’m the captain of Team Alpha. Unfortunately, I cannot disclose any further information about our Deepspace Hunters except that they are currently on a very important mission.”

Jenna’s tone is steepled in regret, and Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know. I know, damn it.” If she finds his cursing crass, she doesn’t comment on it. “But, it’s been four days already. I just need to know—”

“Mr. Caleb, we understand your frustration, but please, do let us handle the mission on our end, and if there are any updates—”

“You’d only tell me if she returns in a body bag.” 

The transparency of his resigned statement floats uneasily like a greasy film over a thick coating of lies he’s very well accustomed to in the military and law enforcement world. The reality is this: he would never know if you were alive until you came back home.

Caleb thumps his forehead against the frosty kitchen glass, watching the white snowflakes dance in front of him with listless, pained violet eyes. The necklace you gifted him hangs from his neck like a noose, threatening to choke the last of his composure. He struggles to hold onto his temper, as he swallows and nods.

“Alright. Roger that. Thank you, Captain.” 

He doesn’t give Jenna a chance to reply, ending the call and, in a fit of rage, slams his phone onto the table. His sudden fit of anger doesn't go unobserved, Gran’s weary eyes watching him pace restlessly through the kitchen, not noticing her sitting in the dark corner. She wants to comfort him but doesn’t know how. After all, it was you who usually took the mantle of calming down this unnerving, determined young man during his rare, but terrifying bouts of rage. 

Gran sighs quietly and stares up at the ceiling as if she could see past the layers of plaster and unease and into the graying, snowy sky.

Caleb slams the front door on his way out to god knows where. Like always, she remains reticent and disengaged, sitting in the furthest corner where his disconcerting emotions could never reach her. 

You weren’t expecting anyone to wait for you back in your apartment when you finally returned home. 

Light snow coats the front of your lobby stairs, and the second he sees you, the doorman waves to catch your attention. 

“Oh, Miss Hunter! You have a care package waiting for you in the mail room.” 

Curious and weary from your arduous mission, you trudge to the mailroom to retrieve the package under your name. Clasping it in one arm, you drag your tired and bruised body straight to your apartment and push open the door, switching on the lights and air conditioning. The space smells of stale air and an underlying current of tension, greeting you with a lingering melancholy you couldn’t quite shake off. 

You carefully close the door behind you and set the package on your dining table. Glancing out at the twinkling lights of the street below, the feeling of missing out on an important holiday creeps back in, and you fight back the urge to sob.

Now’s not the time…your inner voice chimes. You need to eat something… shower and rest. Wiping your damp eyes, you take a deep breath. The time to break down and mourn over your guilt can come later. 

Tearing the package open, your heart skips a beat when you see a bento box filled with dehydrated vegetables, powdered cranberry sauce, dried turkey, and a side of instant mac ‘n’ cheese. A note, written in a blocky scrawl you recognize as Caleb’s, makes the lump of guilt in your throat thicken even more. 

Merry Christmas, Pipsqueak. We missed you. — C

You boil some water, microwave the food, and rehydrate the greens again, taking your sad pre-packed Christmas meal on the balcony. The food is good, and you have an inkling of Caleb freeze-drying it for you—begrudgingly making sure you could still enjoy your holiday even after the catastrophic fight you both had. 

As you chew listlessly on a slice of turkey, you glance up at the sky where you imagine the outline of Skyhaven to be, snowflakes clinging onto the ends of your lashes, falling like powdered sugar onto your bare hands. 

Caleb… your mind echoes forlornly. Did he return to the base? Is he still here in Linkon? 

One quick look at your Moments feed, and you see he’s still here, catching up with old classmates and grinning brightly in his photos like the two of you hadn’t been at each other’s throats just a few days ago.

The temptation to call him up is at odds with your bruised ego from the smothering behavior he exhibited days earlier. A part of you wants an excuse to see him again despite the growing distance since the argument—to thank him for the meal he prepared for you. 

Snowflakes melt in your hair, an unceasing chill creeping up on you. Despite the unusual distance creeping insidiously into your relationship, the chill, the reproachful silence—the meal he sent you was more than a peace offering. It was his version of an apology. 

Your mind floats a million miles away, thinking about Caleb, wondering if he is still mad at you. You heave a sigh. As much as you dread it, there’s only one way to find out. 

Pulling out your phone, you click on his number. The dial tone drones on and on, plucking on your nerves, and you reflexively nibble on your nails, waiting for him to pick up.

“Hello! ” You expel a rushed breath, an apology on the tip of your tongue when you’re hit with the realization that you’ve reached his voicemail box instead. “—probably busy. Please leave a message after the beep—”

Silence. You catch a staggering breath. “Caleb? It’s me. If you get this, let’s meet up, ‘kay? Talk to you soon.” 

There’s a hum in the night air, a tension drawing lines around your taut figure. You wait and wait for his return call, glancing at your phone every minute, checking on your messages in case he left one when your back was turned. The warm shower you took could barely flush out the thought of Caleb, your anxiety peaking when you decide to check on Moments, seeing him post a picture of his dinner with his friends, but leaving your message on read.

Crap. You’re in deep trouble now. Sighing, you run your fingers through your hair, rubbing your face.

There isn’t a hint of doubt that he’s punishing you now with the silent treatment. Caleb is never the type to avoid confrontations—he thrives on them. He loves arguing, challenging your worldview, and trying to prove his point, just to rub it in your face that he will always be right. 

The indifference is odd; this distance is not like him.

Before you can stop yourself from calling him again, you slip on your coat, tug on your scarf, and rush to your bike. 

I’m going to make him talk to me if it’s the last thing I do, you think viciously, revving up the bike aggressively—kicking up snow and dirt in your wake to break this frostiness between you two.  

In fifteen minutes, you find yourself in front of your childhood home, the kitchen lights glowing warmly. Gran is probably already back at the elderly care center, and since Caleb is still treating you as public enemy #1, he’s staying here to keep his distance from you. You kill the engine and march straight up to the door, unlocking it with your spare key.

Inside the house is warm and toasty, the faint smell of food drifting from the kitchen. You freeze when the sound of heavy footsteps reaches your ears, looking straight into his wide, amethyst eyes.

Caleb exhales a sharp breath, his mouth dropping open slightly. “Pipsqueak…” 

You remain nailed to the spot, wondering if he would kick you out—ask you to leave for daring to show your face here again. But, he does no such thing, beckoning you to close the door and come in. Though he doesn’t outright reject you, he doesn’t welcome you with open arms, either, the usual exuberance and grins he reserves for you nowhere to be found on his unsettlingly serious expression. 

Caleb goes back into the kitchen, picking up a towel to wipe down his hands. The paper plane bracelet you got for him years ago peeks past the sleeve of his gray hoodie, a reminder of happier times between you two. 

You hesitate for a single second by the doorway, wondering when the thought of home left you this cold and disorientated. 

Like a lost puppy, you trail after him, removing your jacket and setting it on the back of a dining chair.

“Thank you… for the meal,” your hoarse voice breaks the icy silence. 

Caleb glances at you from behind the kitchen island and nods. “You’re welcome.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, and the easy familiarity from years of knowing each other fades into a glacial stillness. You hear your breath leaving your lips, and sense the way he’s avoiding your eyes.

“Caleb—”

He scoffs at the sound of his name leaving your lips, and turns around, putting all his focus on the bread he’s baking. You know him well enough to understand he only bakes when he’s completely stressed out over something.

Without thinking, you touch his wrist, not anticipating the sharp way he draws his hand back from you.

“Caleb…” 

He doesn’t glance at you—barely gives your pain a second glance. “What’re you doing here, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs gruffly. “Aren’t you supposed to be writing a debrief report right now?” 

As much as his distance stings, his dismissal hurts even worse, feeling like a knife carving through your chest. 

“It’s Christmas season,” you whisper. “The offices are closed—”

“And yet, risky missions still prevail, huh?” 

His words bite straight to your core, and you wince. “Caleb, it’s not—”

“Save it,” your childhood friend cuts you off, jerking his chin towards the dining table. “Sit down there and don’t disturb me. I’m making sourdough focaccia and if something goes wrong, I will 100% blame you.”

Despite the warning in his tone, you can’t help but smile faintly.

“Okay…”

Taking a seat at the table, you watch him work. The sleeves of his hoodie stretch tautly over his bulging biceps, rolling up to expose his forearms as he works the dough into a malleable ball. The silence is something new, a phenomenon born from the supernova of your hasty mistakes, leaving gaping black holes of awkwardness surrounding the two of you. Any light coming through from your attempts to make conversation is shut down with a dismissive hum or grunt from Caleb. 

You can tell he’s avoiding any attempts to talk, focusing on making the bread and ignoring your presence in the corner of his eye. The childish part of you that grew up with his undivided attention screams, tearing and twisting in your chest, needing to reclaim his interest and care again. You pout, sulk, and heave numerous heavy sighs. But, he doesn’t turn to look at you, much too busy focusing on brushing basil oil onto the bubbling surface of the dough. 

So, you amp up the distractions. You circle closer and closer to him, pressing your face near his shoulder to watch him decorate the dough with slivers of cherry tomatoes. You linger when he turns to grab the container of sea salt flakes, playfully sticking your finger into the concoction to pop a bubble forming.

“Okay, that’s it—” 

He grabs your wrist and tugs you back into the living room, making you sit on the couch with a scowl on his face. The look of pure wrath in his expression startles you, and you barely have time to murmur an apology when he shakes his head, glare intensifying. 

“Stay out of my hair, Pipsqueak. I mean it. ” 

“But—”

He whirls around, silencing you with a deep and unmistakable glint of rage in his usually gentle purple eyes. You fall into a stuttering disquiet, unable to stop the hurt from flashing across your face.

“Caleb—”

“Don’t give me that look. And stay away from the kitchen.” Stay away from me. He doesn’t say it, but the warning is implicit. 

You’ve never seen him this enraged before. Your breath falls out in a huff, and you give him an incredulous look. Caleb turns around, completely ignoring you, and returns to his focaccia. A voice in your head chimes in, telling you to just own up to your mistakes and apologize to him. But, the stubborn part of your consciousness, the one who insists she’s right despite how poorly she had treated one of her oldest childhood friends, remains stubbornly set on not breaking the ice first.

Easier said than done. 

It’s hard. 

It’s hard for you to sit on the couch, quiet and seething when Caleb is just a few feet away. It’s absolute torture to not be in there with him, yapping off his ear with updates to your mission, or trying to sneak eat a few cherry tomatoes when his back is turned. You miss him, and you miss his shitty jokes and dopey smile. You miss him. 

You find yourself sneaking glances at him, wondering if he’s making an extra batch for you—hoping he isn’t too mad to deny you from having a focaccia slice. You know you’re being selfish and immature again, thinking he will be okay with you after the stunt you pulled on him when the reality of his dejection runs deeper.

Shamelessly, you stand and venture back into the kitchen, unlike a stray kitten who could never take a hint. You stand by his side, hovering around until he pays you a morsel of attention—gifting you back his sunny smiles and easygoing laughter.

But, Caleb remains steadfast in his efforts to ignore you, and you decide it’s time to bring out the big guns. Pressing closer to him, you lean your head against his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek into the soft material of his hoodie.

“Gege… don’t be mad at me…”  

He stiffens, and yet, you persist with your efforts. Playfully nipping the back of his ear, you find his weakness in an instant, hearing his breath catch in the back of his throat.

Caleb pretends you don’t exist, letting you fight for his attention, but you can tell his resolve is crumbling. You hear the hitch in his quiet groan when you lick the sensitive shell of his ear, the heat of your body seeping past the thick fabric of his hoodie.

Gran isn’t here, and you don’t have to hide your desires from her, free to mess around with Caleb as much as you can. 

You stand on your tiptoes, tracing the tip of your tongue down the curve of his neck, scraping your teeth against his sensitive skin.

Caleb hisses, and you fight back the urge to grin in triumph. His hands grip the marble island’s edge with a white-knuckle hold. You feel his resolution to ignore you falling apart, piece by piece, simmering in the knowledge of you offering yourself to him as a way of apologizing for the things you said—how you hurt him both physically and emotionally before your mission. 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, gege,” you murmur against the salt of his skin, feeling his body heat under your touch. “Can you ever forgive me? Can you ever forgive your mei mei? ”

He bites back a groan, narrowing his eyes. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Pipsqueak…” he hisses under his breath. 

The way he says it, full of anger and warning, sends a sick, dark thrill up your spine. You resist the urge to lay off him, needing him to fully crack and give in to your whims like he always does—like he always will when it comes to you because you’re nothing if not Caleb’s spoiled rotten mei mei who always gets what she wants.

“Pipsqueak—” his words cut off into a low growl when he feels your arms belting around his waist, your hands sliding further down… fingertips teasingly brushing the bulge tenting under his pants. “Watch it.”

But, his warning lacks bite, and you gnaw on your lower lip, feeling his patience slowly dissipating. Caleb is once again putty in your hands, easy to mold to your desires. You grin against his back, feeling the same revulsive knot twisting in your stomach, the stench of the impending perverseness making your nostrils flare. 

“ Gege… ” you whisper again. 

It’s the final nail to the coffin of his attempts to resist you. Except when he snaps, he does it in a way you never expect. 

Caleb grabs your hand and spins you around, pinning you right to the counter edge. Without a second’s hesitation, he drags your pants down, baring your vulnerable backside. The stinging pain of his hit on your left cheek draws you up short, and you cry out, cursing profusely. 

“My, my,” you can hear the grin in his dark tone. “Such a mouth you have on yourself, mei mei … you need to be reprimanded.” 

Another sharp spank lands on your right cheek this time, and your head jerks up, a yelp slipping past your clenched teeth.

“C-Caleb—”

“Don’t you dare Caleb me,” he sneers and drags you like you’re a ragdoll to the bedroom—his bedroom. Inside, you’re faced with gege’s full wrath, as he stands before you, tall and imposing, those amethyst eyes barely wavering when he takes in your warm cheeks and the glimmer of pain simmering in your gaze.

“Strip,” Caleb commands, lifting a dark brow. “ Now .” 

You want to argue, to tell him to ease up, but the look on his face remains flinty and firm. 

Swallowing your trepidation, you start by pulling your shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor. Caleb’s expression doesn’t shift, not even when his eyes rake over the lace bra you’re wearing. His jaw tightens, and he gestures at your pants, silently telling you to go all in if you want to earn his forgiveness back. 

You reluctantly tuck your thumbs into the waistband of your pants and drag them down, leaving you shivering in your matching lacy panties.

He scoffs, running his eyes up and down your scantily-clad form. “You sure you weren’t thinking indecent thoughts, you shameless minx? Good girls don’t try to seduce their older brothers by looking like this.”

You flush warmly at his degrading words, feeling your bravado slipping. “I-I wasn’t—”

Your words die in the back of your throat when you feel the restrictive force of his Evol grasping your wrists, drawing them above your head. Caleb’s expression and outstretched hand don't falter, and he takes another step closer, bearing down on your helplessness.

“Be quiet,” he snaps. Flicking his fingers, he pushes you against the wall, hearing the gust of breath rushing out your lungs when your back hits the hard plaster. You grunt in surprise, struggling and failing to fight your way out of the bonds he has your wrists in. 

“Scared?” He goads, approaching you, taking your chin, and tilting your face up. The look in his eyes is borderline terrifying—you’ve never seen Caleb ( your sweet, lovely, kind, and sunny Caleb )—look this angry in your life. “This is what you wanted, right?” Grabbing your wrists in one large palm, he tightens his grip on you. “Teasing me… hurting me… you have a knack for breaking your gege’s heart, huh, Pipsqueak?” 

You shake your head, wanting to protest when he silences you with a punishing kiss. Caleb bites down on your lower lip, your words and coherence lost in the slurry mess of his tongue fighting yours, tasting the warmth and wetness of your mouth. 

“Mhm,” you moan into the kiss, tilting your head to the side to get more—taste more of him. He runs the tip of his tongue over the hard ridges of your teeth, squeezing your cheeks in a possessive hold, forcing your mouth to remain open and giving as he continues to take what he wants without a care for your pathetic whines.

“Don’t think I’ll go nice on you, Y/N,” he warns, tipping your head back, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “You treated me like dirt before you left. You hurt my feelings—” He growls, biting down hard on your earlobe. “You selfish, bratty little Pipsqueak… I won’t go easy on you, do you hear me? Nod if you understand.”

You can’t do anything but nod, helpless in the face of his anger. The corners of his mouth twitch at the sight of your submission, the dark monster within he tries hard to suppress rearing its jealous head, beckoning him to devour you. With a surprising show of dominance, he tangles his fingers in your hair, yanking your head back with a grunt, exposing more of your throat to his wandering lips.

He licks, nips, and sucks his marks onto the pristine column of your throat, needing to see his marks bloom on your skin. Caleb is relentless in his attempts to remind you who you belong to.

The force of his touch sends sparks of thrill up your spine, and you gasp with every hot press of his open-mouth kisses to your vulnerable jaw and neck.

Caleb’s teeth scrapes your sensitive skin, drawing guttural gasps from your kiss-swollen lips.

“Ca-leb—” you break off into a hiss when his Evol rearranges your limbs, spreading your thighs wider; your arms restrained above your head. The last time he had you in this position was a summer ago before he left for a mission to Vagrant Land. You swore after that night when he was done with you, that you had to double your Plan B dosage less your body betrayed you and you conceived his baby. 

“Please—” 

He doesn’t hear your begging, taking a step closer, his bigger build pressing harder into your body. 

“I said: Shut. Up. ”

In one swift motion, his telekinesis holds your lips shut, your struggles and indignant squeals barely triggering a reaction from him. The look on his face sparks both terror and desire, your body responding to his unexpected dominance; proof of your arousal shining from between your thighs.

“Already wet? How pathetic…” 

He smirks, coating his fingers with the proof of your desire pooling right between your folds. 

“Mhmph—Cwaleb—” your desperate squeak shoots his ego straight up to the moon, and Caleb is on cloud nine. 

Such a desperate, little Pipsqueak. You want this so badly, huh? Mhm hmm. That’s right. That’s fucking right. You like my fingers in you? Good girl. Such a good, little Pipsqueak. You’re doing so well—fuck.

His anger aside, Caleb can’t help but praise you. It’s his default; his DNA. You drive him insane and he wants to punish you for getting under his skin—where you’ll always belong, not if he can help it.

“Something you wanna say, Pips?” he sneers, pumping two long, lithe, and callused fingers inside of you, catching on a spot that makes your toes curl. 

“S-swo…sworry,” you manage to spit past the pressure clamping your mouth shut, tears swimming in your eyes, “Cwaleb… mhm .”

He can’t say he doesn’t enjoy your struggle. The flush on your cheeks, the wetness glimmering on your lips. Caleb wants to see you completely and utterly ruined for him. 

“Beg,” he commands, slipping into his Captain persona with ease. In his eyes, you were nothing but an unruly cadet in need of a stern fixing. “Beg me and I might give you what you want.”

Thumb on your clit, he’s driving you delirious with feathery, teasing circles. Your eyes roll back into your head. 

Cwaleb, you groan against his Evol. Pwease—mhmph!

The pressure of his fingers gets meaner, the look in his violet eyes muffling the last of your protests. Giving up on trying to get him to relent, you submit with feeble sighs, letting him take full control. Caleb grins, feeling you succumbing to his ministrations, your squeaks and sighs growing louder and more distraught. 

He loves having you like this—on the edge, overstimulated, and completely relying on him.

Years of knowing your body and what makes you tick is enough for him to push your buttons—taking your limits past the breaking point.

He’s meticulous and sure with his punishment, doing whatever it takes to hammer in the anger and shame he wants you to feel—the lesson he’s trying to impart to your desperate body and distraught mind.

As he releases the pressure on your mouth so you can moan and gasp freely, Caleb’s quick with a foot of rope, using it to bind your hands in your front, allowing you just enough give to grip a pen in your shaky hand as he makes you sit on his cock and write ‘I will always obey my gege’ over and over again until your eyes swim, and your cunt is pulsing from every slight movement. 

He teases you with shallow thrusts, lips in the crook of your neck, and warm, large palms covering your heaving breasts; playing with your distended nipples till they blossom into a pretty blush shade. 

Driving you further into a pleasure-filled delirium, he rubs your clit with teasing circles, smacking your thighs when they start to snap close.

“I said—keep 'em’ open unless you know what’s good for ya, princess,” he sneers, leaving another stinging mark blooming on the plush flesh. 

“Please…” The plea drops from your swollen lips and he chuckles. 

“Struggling already?” 

Caleb peers over your shoulder at your almost illegible writing and shakes his head. “I thought you were better than this—didn’t you once win the best handwriting award in high school? Tch.” 

To your mortification and horror, he picks up the sheet of paper and tears it in half, ruining your hour-long effort of completing a hundred lines.

“Again,” he orders, and grabs a blank sheet, placing it in front of you. “And make sure your writing is pretty Pipsqueak. I wanna frame this.”

A strangled whimper tumbles from your mouth, and behind you, Caleb smirks at the sheer frustration at the sound.

Good.

Now, you would understand a sliver of the anguish he felt when you went missing for days. Now, you would feel the exasperation and outrage he did—and god, does it feelgood to watch you come undone for him. 

You pick up the pen, and with a teary, little huff, start to write again. He hooks his chin over your shoulder, breath warm and distracting against your neck. 

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, chest rumbling with deep satisfaction. “Look at’cha. Doing so well… I oughta reward you after this, hmm?” 

He teasingly trails his palm up your thigh, squeezing your flesh—enjoying how your pretty, tight pussy squeezes down on him with every rasp of his palm on your skin. The sight between your thighs is lewd, a creamy mess coating the base of his cock, dribbles of arousal gathering at the lips of your entrance which ripples around his thick girth. Caleb is equal parts mesmerized and thrilled by the sight, watching how your little clit shivers when he teases her with the rough pad of his index finger; how your body shudders, and the pen in your hand shakes.

“Much better,” he compliments your penmanship, giving your clit and nipple a squeeze. 

“Ah— mhm! ” You choke through your tears. This minute reaction costs you a firm smack on your thigh, his fingernails digging into the singing flesh. 

“Did I say you could take your eyes off the paper?” Caleb demands, and in a low tone, barks out, “ Write .”

Tears mist your vision, your hips twitching and muscles tightening around the fleshy intrusion lodged deeply in your tender pussy. Caleb wraps his hands around your waist and gingerly lifts you up and down, fucking you on his cock as the words on the paper get blurrer and blurrer.

I will always obey gege.

I will always obey gege. 

I will always—

The words get subconsciously stuck in your head, your lips shaping and breathing them out in shaky puffs. Black strokes of your obedience begin to fill up half of the page, and soon the whole sheet is covered with the affirmation. Caleb presses his lips to your jaw, giving you a much softer kiss, catching you off guard with his gentleness.

“There you go… lookin’ good, darlin’.” 

He takes the paper from you and scrutinizes each word, well aware of your body trembling; your sweet, tight cunt squeezing pitifully around his cock. You’ve made such a mess on his lap, Caleb is surprised how the powerful orgasm you’ve been holding back for the past two hours hasn’t taken you under yet. It seems like one single touch and you might blow.

He chuckles, chest vibrating against your back, and sets your work down, gripping your hip tighter.

“Good girl,” he croons in your ear. Those maliciously thick and long fingers slide up the length of your thigh, reaching to wrap around your neck.

“I did what you asked,” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut and moaning at the sensation of his lips kissing down your throat. “A-am I forgiven yet?” 

Hmm, Caleb hums, his smirking mouth pressing on your pulse point. He loves how despite your lofty title as Linkon’s shining Hunter, you’re still so much smaller than him; your entire body dwarfed between his bigger build and the hard edge of the table. “... suppose I could show you some mercy.” 

He traces random patterns on your thigh and a sliver of hope takes root in your heart. Maybe you’ve done enough to fully earn his trust and love back. Maybe he might be merciful and kiss you—

As if you weighed next to nothing, Caleb’s strong arms carry you back to bed, setting you down on his lap again. He buries his nose in your hair and inhales like a starved man tasting honey for the first time, his tongue darting out to trace the jut of your jaw, trailing down your throat.

“You’re so sweet… so sinful…”

His grave murmurs send sparks of desire straight to your core, and you clench your thighs, whimpering.

“Caleb…” 

Your whisper is a fleeting plea of desire that disappears under his smothering kiss. Caleb devours your mouth, swirling his tongue with yours, his fingers holding your chin in place. Hungry, open-mouth kisses smear down your neck, right to your collarbone, where the ghost of his breath on your perky nipples makes you shudder.

He takes his time, playing with you while you’re all tied up and helpless. Caleb grins against your sternum, hearing your breath hitch when he parts your thighs and sinks a finger inside you with barely any prep. Your body takes him without resistance, and he nuzzles your bare breasts, relishing how soft your skin is against his cheek.

“You’re so eager… so ready for me…”

His dick throbs, but he pays it no mind, completely zeroing in on your pleasure. Caleb’s entire focus is on you—your whimpers, your sighs, how your poor, puffy pussy clenches down so nicely on his thick fingers.

You’re just ready to burst, darlin’ ... he murmurs huskily into your ear. Must be frustrating, hmm? Not being given the chance to come… I’m sure you’re aching…

His thumb circles on your greasy, little nub, hearing your soft moans and sighs in his hair. Caleb guides you to the bed, your bound body falling in a heap under him. He positions himself over you, forearms on either side of your head as he goes back to licking and sucking at your neck. 

The sting of his teeth leaving another bite leaves you light-headed with lust, your body throbbing for the slightest bit of relief.

Please… you whimper again, trying your luck. Caleb… I need you…

Yeah? He murmurs huskily. Where’dya need me, princess? 

You squirm, moving your hips and he feels you writhing underneath him. “Inside. All the way.”

His breathing hitches, blood growing hotter at the desperation and need in your tone. 

“All the way? You know what to say to get a man going, sweetness.”

“I— ohhh .”

Your words die in the back of your throat at what he does next. 

Caleb grins as he pushes your thighs apart, settling in between them. He carelessly tugs his pants down, ripping off his clothes to toss them to the floor, gifting you inches and inches of bare, tanned skin and defined muscles to gawk at. Ready, baby? Giving his cock a few good pumps, he lines the tip to your entrance, catching it on the rim of your pussy. 

Teasingly, he works the flush, sticky head up and down your weeping clit, circling your opening, pushing it in past the tight ring of muscle with taunting ‘pops’. Your gasps reach his ears, and he grins, enjoying drawing out your pleasure far too much.

Like that? He licks his lips, eyes half-hooded and heated. It’s all going in you, baby… just… at my… pace.

He punctuates each languid word with a few more inches sinking inside of you, coaxing more sweet sounds from your slack jaw.

Oh, yes… yes… fuck me, Caleb. Fuck—oooh.  

Your drawn-out hiss springs a wicked smile to his face. The way your eyes roll back; how your hips twitch. 

Spasming wildly, your sweet pussy draws him in, and Caleb can’t get enough of you. It’s excruciating how much he’s edging himself as much as he’s torturing you. But, the moment he bottoms out inside of you, all the tension condenses right to the point where you’re connected to him. 

Caleb sets a rhythm that leaves you gasping, legs wrapping instinctively around his fitted waist. His biceps and abs ripple with every thrust, those pesky lips you love too much finding the hollow of your throat, leaving behind his claim on your delicate skin for the world to see. His mouth presses to yours in a heated display of ownership, tongue delving past your lips to dominate yours. 

His taste—musk, salt, man—coats your tastebuds, and you’re swimming in his heat and scent. 

Caleb is everywhere and anywhere over you, all at once. 

His bigger build completely dwarfs you on the bed, expert hands pushing your thighs apart and pressing your knees to your chest, leaving you flushed and completely vulnerable to him.

He laughs when your clit trembles under his scrutiny, the little bud exposed with nowhere to hide. 

Zeroing in on your tender bundle of nerves, he presses his thumb to it, feeling the greasy little button twitch under his fingertip. 

You look so pretty like this… all tied up and vulnerable… just for me. 

“Caleb…” your moans begin to stutter, your hips beginning to spasm. You’re so close, all it takes is one misstep on his end to lead you down the biggest orgasm of your life.

Hours of teasing and drawing out your pleasure renders you an incoherent, babbling mess. 

Faster, faster… oh god, please. Yesyesyes. Caleb—Caleb… 

Anyone passing by the room could tell you were barely holding on by a thread. You look so beautiful under him like this: hair fanning across his pillows, cheeks warm and lips flushed. The glassy look in your eyes.

God, he’s so in love with you. 

Having you here, under him where you belong, heals the fissured part inside of him that still aches from your cruel dismissal of his concerns.

His thrusts grow more punishing, the tip of his long, girthy cock hitting your cervix. Caleb tilts your pelvis, making you take him deeper.

There ya go, sweet thing, he coaxes. Can you feel me here—? He touches your womb. Feel me where ya need me. Oh, darlin’... I’m gonna make sure you feel me for days.

Picking up his pace, the bed creaks and rocks under you. Caleb makes sure to tease your clit as well with every punishing thrust, feeling your thighs tremble around his shoulders. 

He’s so deep, so flushed against your body, he thinks you could suck him up and take him in your body forever.

Caleb is hard-pressed to admit he doesn’t want that—there is nothing in the world he desires more than to be one with your bones and breath. His movements get erratic, needing to bring you to the edge and back.

He can tell you’re close. 

The look on your face, the warmth in your cheeks. You’re holding back and he couldn’t be any more prouder.

“What do you want, princess?” He asks, eyes soft with affection.

You struggle to put your desires into words, completely wrecked at the end of his cock. 

“I… mhm— close… ”

He feels your muscles squeezing down on him, and chuckles breathlessly.

“Yeah? I can tell, princess. You want to cum—you need to cum, huh?” 

You give a teary, little nod that tugs on his heartstrings. But, Caleb isn’t done with you—not by a long shot.

He grins and without warning, switches the position, putting you on top of him. When you falter and almost fall face-first into his chest, the familiar stirrings of energy hold you upright, his Evol keeping you centered and balanced on his cock.

“Ride me,” he whispers huskily. “Show me how much you want this—prove to me how badly you want to cum.” 

The challenge in his tone drives you dizzy with lust. Licking your lips, you murmur a whimper which makes his grin stretch wider, and shift your hips, testing the give of his Evol.

Sturdy and sure, his grip on you doesn’t falter, and you quickly find a rhythm that makes his eyelids flutter shut. A groan slips from Caleb’s lips, his pretty purple eyes prying open to drink at the sight of you riding him feverishly.

Arduous and urgent, you move your hips like a pro. Caleb’s sure he’s never seen you this determined—the look in your eyes searing through him.

The sight of his dog tag and the apple charm you gave him years ago shining silver from his neck catches your eye, a stark contrast to his tanned and flushed skin. 

God… you’re killing me…

Caleb smirks at your breathless words. I do? Glad to know, princess…

His large palm collides against your plush ass, watching the flesh jiggle with each precise spank. Your sharp inhales and whines spur him on as he takes his frustrations out on your pert ass, venting the fear and anger he felt when you left him behind for that torturous week onto your willing body. 

Try to leave me again. His nostrils flare, eyes dark with promise. And I’ll make sure you’ll never have any use for your legs, you hear me, Pips

Possessive and passionate, he tangles his fingers in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the vulnerable skin of your neck. His Evol loosens its grip, and you go falling into his arms, his lips practically devouring your neck with heated kisses and nips.

You gasp when he works in another mark over one he just made a few minutes ago, the stinging bite of pain enough to get you fluttering all over his cock. 

“ Mhm… ” you groan. You’re lost to the sensations, drunk off the high he’s giving you.

Caleb is no better. He’s almost cross-eyed from the pleasure, drunkenly leaving marks on your jaw and collarbone. 

Sloppy. Languid. Caleb fucks you like he’s got all the time in the world.

He runs his hands down your back, over your sides, fondling your sore and stinging ass. Moving underneath you like a strong wave, he slowly rolls his hips up against you, pulling you closer onto his lap. 

“You’re so good… taking everything so well… my perfect pipsqueak…”

Caleb’s moans and praises get lost in the crook of your neck. He uses his free hand to grip and squeeze your breast, drawing your turgid nipples into his mouth one by one; his other hand continues to spank and grope your ass.

It’s too much—all too soon.

You’re on the edge and he still hasn’t permitted you to come. The need to be good is at war with your primal instincts to give in to the pleasure, your gasps and moans are a desperate symphony to his heated ears.

His thrusts get more erratic, the wet sounds of your bodies joining together bouncing off the walls. The windows of his bedroom start to fog up, the bed creaking maddeningly with every thrust.

“Caleb,” you gasp, feeling the familiar tension coiling in your lower belly. “Oh… oh… ”

He hears the note of panic in your tone and chuckles gravelly. Dark hair in a disarray, amethyst eyes shining with mischief. Caleb is the picture of ravaged underneath you, and there’s little doubt you’re in a much worse state above him. 

Licking his puffy lips, Caleb shakes his head, abs undulating from the release he’s also trying to hold back. 

“Uh-uh-uh, princess,” he taunts, voice dropping an octave lower. “Not yet…”

You clench your jaw and squeeze your eyes shut in despair. He grins, lips moving back to your neck, murmuring against the salt of your skin.

“I love seeing you like this… hearing you gasp and whimper… feeling you writhe so desperately above me…”

Caleb… you whisper his name like a prayer, one you hope he grants.

“Yeah, princess? Say my name… I love it when you say my name.”

“Caleb… oh… Caleb… ”

He nuzzles your neck in an unexpected gesture of adoration, feeling how tense your body is. 

“You’re so close, hmm?” He murmurs, unlike how a pet owner tries to soothe a fretting kitten. “I know you are, Pips. I can feel ya. So close… oh… and yet so… far .” 

At the last second, before you succumb to your pleasure, Caleb’s Evol lifts you off his cock, the sudden, gaping loss ripping the earth-shattering orgasm right from under your trembling body. 

No! You cry out in a thick voice, and you swear real tears spring in your eyes. No… no… please…!

Begging him shamelessly. That’s what you were reduced to. 

Caleb chuckles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He loosens his grip on you and guides you back onto his cock. You hiss from the intrusion, eyes rolling back in your head. Nothing but a puppet to her Master’s strings; Caleb is firmly in control.

He manipulates your body to his own pace, using his Evol to fuck you on top of his cock like you’re a lifeless doll, made only for his pleasure.

“Oh… oh… y-you ass—”

Caleb laughs, cutting off your tirade by gripping your hips tighter. 

“Don’tcha love it, princess? Don’t lie to me—you adore it when I tease ya. Make you work for my lovin’,” he mutters hotly into your neck. “You can deny it all ya one, Pips, but I know what you want… I know what you want deep, deep down…”

As he drawls out ‘deep’, his Evol loosens, making you slide down his cock until you bottom out. 

“ Ngh! ” You cry out, the tears in your eyes dripping down your cheeks. Caleb clicks his tongue and wipes the proof of your frustration away with his calloused thumb. 

“No need to cry, Pips. I gotcha. Gege’s got ya, don’t he?” 

You struggle to reply, the last of your coherent thoughts scrambled by his cock working you back to the edge again. 

Caleb… Caleb… you cry out, his name a mantra, a chant that grounds you as his cock continues to fuck you up. 

It seems like forever passes by when he brings you to the edge, abandons all motion, and does it again until you’re practically sobbing from the overstimulation. Caleb is a mastermind of your own body—he knows just how to get you trembling from the onslaught of pleasure without ever letting you fall over.

The torturous cycle starts and ends the same: with your begging and whining doing nothing to move him.

“Please…” you finally gasp, hanging your head, strands of your hair tickling his chin. “I’m sorry, Caleb. I’m so sorry…” Fighting back the lump in your throat, your shiny eyes beg him to show you some mercy. “I’m sorry I hurt you… s-sorry I— ah… mhmmm… treated you like shit… I’m so sorry—”

Caleb sweeps you into his arms, his Evol completely releasing its grip on you. “That’s all I wanted to hear… all I needed…”

He registers how you’re choking up and rubs gentle circles on your back. “Hey—ssh. Ssh. Apology accepted, Pipsqueak. Don’t cry, okay… come here…” Gripping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his, he gives you a soft smile. “You did so well… I’m so proud of you, hey? You wanna come, sweetness?” 

Without a shred of stubbornness left, you eagerly nod. He chuckles, and positions you back on his cock, purple eyes glistening with the pure adoration he has for you. 

“Alright—come on, baby… ride me good this time, okay? And don’t hold back—you deserve this… deserve all this for being such a good, little girl—”

It doesn't take long for you to get to the edge, hours of suppressing your release make you needy and very sensitive.

Come… come for me… he encourages you, rubbing your clit, pinching your nipples—doing everything in his power to get you to lose control.

The tension in your belly snowballs to something beyond your control, and you tilt your head back, expelling a long, drawn-out moan. 

In the ropes and under his cruel yet tender ministrations, you find the courage to fall apart—his name rebounding across the room like a screamed cry of relief. Caleb feels you shuddering all around him and gives in to his baser need to fill you up, grunting low and deep into the crook of your neck as ribbons of warmth coat your walls.

Drops of white dribble to stain your inner thighs and his lap, but neither of you cares.

Undoing the rope and relinquishing his Evol’s hold on you, Caleb catches you in his arms, burying his nose into your hair, soothed by your delicate scent.

The afterglow settles like a haze, enveloping your body like a warm, fluffy blanket.

Caleb traces patterns on your bare back, pressing soft kisses to your temple and cheek. He breathes in your light scent, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“You alive, Pips?” 

Nodding, your eyes flutter close, the comfort found in the crook of his body intoxicatingly cozy. Your heartbeat starts to slow, lulled by the gentleness of his breathing. His pulse steadies under your cheek, his arms tightening around you, pressing you closer to his chest.

“You did so good, princess…” he murmurs, stroking your head. “So proud of you—I’m so proud of my little Pipsqueak…”

His praise hits your system like a shot of red wine, warming you up from the inside out. Flushed from his gentle words, you eagerly rub your face against his throat, his boyish chuckles easing the guilt still swimming in your soul. 

“Caleb?” He looks down at you, taken by your small voice.

“Yes, Pips?” 

“Am I… forgiven?” 

He nods without a beat of hesitation. “You sure are. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about anymore, okay? Let’s put this behind us and start fresh, princess. How’s that sound?” 

Relieved, you nod, and the love you feel for him intensifies, radiating brightly from deep within. 

One thing you’ve learned about wounded hearts is this: with Caleb’s smile, everything can be healed.

— feedback and reblogs are much appreciated ❤️ your support means a lot to me

Caleb has dreamt about this for a long time. How it would feel to squeeze the flesh of your hips and pull you closer to him, how he would respond to swallowing your moans against tongueful kisses as you lose yourself humping his warm and growing arousal in his pants. He feels so dangerously good under you, making you crave more when his hand travels beneath your shirt and teases you by tracing the underside of your breast with his thumb.

You both eventually come up for a desperate breath to return air back into your lungs. Your cheeks flushed and parted lips swollen as you gaze down only to receive an amorous stare back at you. He chuckles softly, a smirk making way and his palm cups the side of your face. “You know, I didn’t think you had that in you. Not that I didn’t enjoy the kiss... it was nice.”

His hand lowers and brushes the pad of his finger along your bottom lip. And new thoughts emerge like how your mouth would feel wrapped around his thumb as he gently presses down on your tongue. “You’re beautiful, have I ever told you that?”

“Caleb… I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me.” You glance away amidst the heat of your embarrassment, and you still feel lightheaded from the remnants of the intense exchange. Some things can’t be easily undone once you start them, and yet you feel an overwhelming urgency to kiss him again. His shirt crumples around your clenched fist while your mind tries to make sense of your suppressed feelings for your childhood best friend.

“Hey, hey. You didn’t do anything wrong, princess.” He carefully shifts you onto your back, tilting your chin to make you face him again. “Just tell me what you need and I’ll take care of it, hm?” He tests your reaction by hooking one of your legs over his hip and his knee slowly parts your thigh causing your breath to hitch when he makes contact with your clothed clit. He leans down to plant light kisses on your forehead, his fingers curling around the waistband of your shorts tugging at it playfully. “Can you do that for me?”

It’s adorable to him, truly. How precious and vulnerable you look at him with those eyes full of longing because you also share the same burning desire for something more with him. When you grant him consent with a small nod of your head, he promises that he won’t hold back pouring every ounce of his love and devotion into you that he has withheld for too many years.

Aftercare (What is he like after sex?)

It depends on how hard did he go on you, but he always makes sure there’s at least cuddling before he falls unconscious. After a rougher round he would definitely make you a bath, and praise you how good you were. And will make you chug a lot of water. Every single time.

Body part (Favorite body part on him and on his partner)

I think his favorite on himself would be his hands, he has big hands and he loves to manhandle you with them for sure. On his partner, it’s their ass. He’s an ass guy, even if he keeps body shaming Candy about her chest. I don’t buy it he likes boobs more than butts.

Cum (Anything to do with it)

Cas would like to see his cum on your stomach, chest and mostly on your ass. I wouldn’t say he doesn’t like to cum inside, but he just has a thing for seeing his cum on your body. Also, if he happens to cum while you’re giving him a blowjob, he will make sure you’ll swallow it.

Dirty secret

He loves to have angry sex. Since Castiel gets jealous easily, even because of small things there are a lot of opportunities for the two of you to make up in the bed after some pointless fighting. I would even say he acts jealous sometimes just to get you mad and have this outcome.

Experience (How experienced is he?)

Since he had a relationship before I’d say he’s somewhat experienced. Cas just knows where and how to touch you, but it also helps that you are so in love with him. And his dirty talk is just perfect, in every scenario. The things he whispers into your ear and the way he does it always has you going.

Favorite position

If he goes rough (which I believe is mostly) Cas’ absolute favorite is face down doggy, he loves to push you down. For sensual he’d go with a slow mating press, where he can see your face and eyes, but still make sure your guts get a tiny bit rearranged.

Goofy (How serious/humorous is he during the deed?)

If the two of you agree on a roleplay, I think he’d stay totally in character, he’d be serious. But otherwise, he’s just silly. Makes fun of you like he usually does (not in an offensive manner though, he wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt your feelings during sex or turn you off) and jokes around.

Hair (About his body hair)

I mean he maintains it… Kinda. There’s a point where it annoys him and then I think he’d just shave it off. But he often trims his pubic hair. And it’s black, not matching his drapes. Red pubes would be fucking funny though, he might dye it once.

Intimacy (How romantic is he during it?)

During slow sex, Cas can put his silliness aside and just tell you how perfect are you for him, how much he loves and appreciates you in his life. He can be really cute. Sometimes. But usually he jokes around, I don’t think he’d be much of a romantic.

Jack off

Castiel masturbates every day if the two of you don’t have sex that day. Also, he completely stopped watching porn since he met you and only does it to your nudes.

Kink

He would be into the dom/sub dynamic. He’d also enjoy degrading you if that’s your thing and would praise you too. Cas’ definitely into anal, since he loves your butt so much. I also think he’d like breeding and predator/prey too. And he’d love roleplays where he’s some authoritive figure to you.

Location (His favorite location)

Cas likes it comfy, so bed. Or maybe couch. But he would also try public too. He’s bad boy like that.

Motivation (What turns him on?)

If you’re angry with him, about something “unimportant”, that gets him going, Castiel loves annoying you. If you wear revealing clothes, then he’s also already down for you. And if you tease him, even just a bit… He must return the favor with something totally inappropriate for the situation*, or punish you for turning him on in a bad time.

(*see the Wild card for this headcanon)

No (Something he wouldn’t do/turn off)

Trying to dom him is just a no, he will just stop everything he’s doing and stare at you until you shut up about it. He can’t tolerate being submissive. And he would never have a threesome or sex in front of anyone, he’s too possessive of you. (He’d still like the riskiness of public though.)

Oral (His preferences)

Cas likes receiving more than giving, he can be more in control. He likes to facefuck you and hold your throat while he’s abusing it. But he’d still try to always reciprocate it and boy, is he good with his mouth too? He’d make your head spin.

Pace (How fast/rough or sensual?)

As I said, he likes being rough. Usually he’s fast too, but if he wants to tease you, he’s going to go slow, with hard thrusts, that hit just the right places.

Quickie (His opinion on it)

At the beginning of your relationship, he has an overly high sex drive, and if you’re like that too you guys will have ton of quickies. Castiel likes them a lot, they get the job done easily. As the early hot honeymoon phase fades his sex drive sets back into a normal rate, so the quickies pretty much become rarely.

Risk (Does he like to experiment, take risks?)

Of course he does and he has ton of ideas he’d like to try with you. One I already rumbled a lot about is Castiel would love to try to do it at a public place, I have no idea why am I so adamant about this lol. He’d also like tying you up and have you completely at his mercy.

Stamina (How many rounds and how long he lasts?)

When he doesn’t have a draining day, he can go for two rounds, and Castiel can control himself well, rarely cumming before you do.

Toys (Does he have any? Does he like to use them?)

Don’t think he would have any for himself, but will buy a vibrator for you and overstimulate you like hell with it.

Unfair (Does he like to tease?)

He is a tease. Even though won’t necessarily go after you, but if you start something he’s gonna continue it on another level…

Volume (How loud is he?)

He’s a yapper, he loves dirty talking the whole time. So for sure his groans and low grunts will come out here and there. Sometimes you can even hear his moans as he finishes.

Wild card (Random headcanon)

Teasing headcanon/smol drabble:

One night the two of you and your friends go out to a club. Everybody has a lot of fun and a lot of drinks. Castiel and you go on to dance into the absolute crowd of people, when you turn your back on him and start shaking your ass to him, maybe even pushing your butt to his already awoken cock.

“Oh, what do you think you’re doing, baby?” He smirks, as pulls you close. “Now we gotta finish what you started…” He grabs your ass hard, his other hand is on your waist, as he starts grinding into you.

“Ca-Cas there are people-!” You become flustered and try to stop him, the drunken haze fading a little as self-awareness seeps back.

“There were people here when you started twerking too” He’s still smirking while he whispers into your ear. You feel his erection, it makes your face boil. “Let’s get outta here, babe.” Castiel is already pulling you towards the exit.

X-ray (What’s going on under his clothes?)

Castiel is around average maybe a bit bigger, but he has a nice thickness which fills you up perfectly. He definitely has some veins going on and he’s uncircumcised.

Yearning (How high is his sex drive?)

At the beginning of the relationship, he’s very excited and active, he’d be in you all day preferably. But he gets tired after some time and his sex drive lowers a bit, setting to a rate when once a day is enough for him. I mean he’s a young adult male, he’s gonna get on your nerves about this for a long while before his testosterone calms down.

Zzz (How quickly he falls asleep after?)