Nyx

“Good morning,” you purred with a third poke to his cheek.

A lazy yet content grin broke out on his face as he brought a hand up to capture your own. He hummed into your palm before placing a kiss in the center. “Morning, pipsqueak.”

His gaze took a moment to truly take you in, flitting from the darkening marks left along your collarbone and neck to the smallest details of your face he had committed to memory a long time ago.

Eventually, his hands found your hips before swiftly hoisting you to lay flat on top of him. Naturally, your arms circled around his neck, pulling him impossibly close.

“You feelin’ okay?” Caleb voiced as he subconsciously massaged the plush of your hips. You tilted your head at the guilty smile on his face. “Wasn’t exactly… gentle for our first time.”

You giggled at the mention of the night before as you toyed with his bangs, brushing strands out of his eyes. “I’ve never been better.”

He let out a content sigh as his fingers ran along the curve of your spine. Your back instinctively arched into his touch.

“Y’know…” he started, eyes searching your own. You hummed for him to go on as you continued to play with his hair. “I’m yours for the weekend.”

You perked up at that, and he chuckled at your reaction. “Really?”

“Really.”

You cocked an eyebrow in suspicion. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he nodded, hands rising in defense. Moving to cradle your face in one hand while the other hooked under your thigh, his lips brushed yours. “We have all the time in the world.”

You closed the gap, slotting your lips against his like they were magnetically pulled, like they belonged there. And, in all honesty, you wouldn’t want them to be anywhere else.

His lips felt like warm honey, causing you to melt even further into his embrace.

Mouths moving with quickening pace, your chest vibrated as he groaned into you, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck before pulling you in to deepen the kiss.

His tongue swiped at your bottom lip and made its way into your mouth, exploring and tasting you like you were a gourmet meal. You couldn’t help but whimper against him at the feeling of his tongue against yours.

Your hands threaded through his hair before tugging him back. Pants filled the room as Caleb looked up at you through his lashes. Eyes lidded and overflowing with want, he licked his lips and cracked a grin. “What, tired already?”

You rolled your eyes at his playful banter. Wanting him on top of you, you before rolling off him and pulling him on top of you. His arm caged you in as he remained lying on his side.

“You gonna take care of me, Caleb?” you weren’t sure yourself in what way you meant it, but you saw something in his eyes change at your words. He didn’t hesitate.

“In every life time.”

His kisses were more sensual as he placed them. From the crown of your head to your lips, from your lips to your neck, from your neck to…

RIIINNNGGG! RIIINNNGGG!

Caleb’s open-mouthed kissed against your skin came to a halt at the familiar ring of his phone. He let out a weighty exhale before reaching over to see who was calling.

“Is it the fleet?” you inquired. His silent contemplation was an answer itself, but the pinch in his brow and the clench of his jaw made you sure. You whined at the interruption. “Caleb…”

Leaning down to press a quick peck against your lips and forehead, he sighed.

“Sorry, pips. Gimme a sec, okay? Then, I’m all yours,” he offered apologetically before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and picking up the call. You watched as his demeanor immediately switched from your darling Caleb to the frigid Deepspace Colonel. “Speak.”

As he coldly conversed on the phone, you couldn’t help but admire him. His broad shoulders and back which were decorated with scratches, the tone of his muscles, the way the sheets pooled at his bare hips…

Slowly, you crawled over to where Caleb was sat until you were positioned directly behind him. He flinched when your hands found his waist, looking over his shoulder with a warning look. Of course, you could see that he was enjoying the attention.

You leaned against his frame as you explored the expanse of his body, fingers dancing over the distinct ridges of his abs. Making your way up, teasingly caressing his chest, you pressed kisses against the nape of his neck and behind his ear. You gasped as you felt a strong hand squeeze your ass.

You looked up only to find his sharp gaze already on you. Wrapping your arms around him and squeezing, you smiled mischievously at the flush of his face. He returned your smile with a smirk of his own. “Behave.”

“What was that, colonel?” you heard from the other end of the phone.

“It’s nothing. Continue,” he resumed his call but kept his grip on your ass, gently kneading. Your longing for the feeling of his mouth on your skin had you growing oh-so needy.

“Caleb…” you breathed, lips brushing against his ear. You felt him shiver at your proximity. “…need you.”

He froze at that. You nestled into the crook of his neck to watch his reaction, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind. It was clear he was so close to breaking, and you knew just what to do.

Sliding a hand up his body, you found the charm of the necklace you gave him. Holding eye contact with him, you inched the charm closer and closer until it met your lips.

That’ll do it.

“Handle the situation and report back to me tomorrow. Don’t disturb me for the rest of the day.” He commanded before hanging up promptly. A dangerous gaze locked onto yours.

You were in for it now…

The words settle deep in your chest, making your heart lurch. You lift your face to him, catching his mouth with yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that tastes like every moment you’ve been apart. His tongue brushes against yours, unhurried and coaxing, pulling you deeper until you’re arching into him without thinking, chasing the heat of his body. His hand cups you through the thin fabric of your top, fingers firm but careful, as though he’s both teasing and claiming you in the same breath.

It doesn’t take much—just a few lingering passes of his hands, a few murmured words in that deep, quiet voice—and you’re already warm and aching, your body responding to him as if it’s been starved. He knows exactly how to draw you out, how to make you melt without rushing you toward the inevitable. And maybe that’s what you love most about this side of him—the rare, unguarded Zayne who savors every second, who holds you like he’s not ready to let you go.

You can feel him even before you’re fully aware of it—the slow, deliberate press of him through the thin fabric of his sleep pants, resting against your stomach as he lowers himself over you. The weight of his body, the heat of him, settles in like something inevitable, something you’ve both been craving without needing to say it aloud. He’s close enough now that you can breathe him in—soap and clean cotton mingling with the deeper, warmer scent that’s just him.

Your hands slip beneath the hem of his sleep shirt, palms smoothing over the strong plane of his back before your nails trace upward in slow, teasing drags. You know exactly how he likes it—the faint catch of your nails against tender skin, the way it makes him exhale, low and unguarded, against your mouth.

The kiss is slow but molten, a lazy burn that seeps into your bones. His mouth moves against yours with that unhurried confidence of someone who knows they have all the time in the world, yet each kiss leaves you wanting another, deeper still. His weight pins you gently, your leg hooking over his hip to pull him even closer. The thin barrier of your panties is already damp, your body thrumming with want, aching for his touch, for more than the deliberate restraint he’s giving you now.

He breaks from your lips only to let his mouth wander, brushing slow, damp kisses along your jaw before finding the curve of your neck. His lips part against your skin, warm and wet, his breath ghosting over the sensitive place just below your ear. The claim is gentle, almost reverent, but it still makes your heart race.

“I missed you so much, too, Zayne,” you murmur, your voice slipping between kisses and soft sighs.

His only answer is a quiet hum against your skin, but you feel it—the subtle curve of his mouth there, the way his hands shift to hold you more securely, as if to say he’s not going anywhere tonight.

Sometimes it’s like this between you—slow, but no less consuming. There’s no rush, no frantic need to strip the moment bare. Instead, every touch, every kiss is deliberate, weighted with both tenderness and possession. His mouth finds the place on your neck that never fails to make you shiver, lingering there as though reacquainting himself with your body after too much time apart.

You sigh, soft and low, your fingers still tracing idle patterns down the length of his back, feeling the shift of muscle beneath your touch. His hands travel with equal patience, sliding down your sides before slipping beneath the hem of your sleep shirt in one smooth motion. When his palms wrap firmly around your waist, grounding you beneath him, a quiet moan escapes before you can hold it in. The sound is met with his own low, satisfied grunt against your skin, the kind of noise that says he’s exactly where he wants to be.

“Want you, Zayne…” the words leave you in a breath, fragile and warm between you.

His teeth catch gently at your neck, a soft bite that makes you gasp before he hums his approval, voice a low rumble against your skin. “You got me, love.”

When he pulls back, the sight of him in the warm lamplight catches you off guard—the tousled dark hair falling into his eyes, the heat in their hazel depths tempered by a softness that’s meant for you alone. One of his hands comes up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip with a tenderness that steals your breath. “Let me enjoy this,” he murmurs, the words quiet but edged with heat. “I missed touching you.”

You meet his gaze, feeling the warmth in your chest deepen. You’ve always loved the way he can look at you like this—half desire, half something more like love.

Then he leans in, his lips claiming yours again, the kiss deep and slow. His hand stays on your face, the grip both steady and gentle, as if he’s keeping you anchored while the rest of the world falls away. Your tongues meet in a languid rhythm, a slow dance of heat and familiarity, and the air between you hums with soft sighs and quiet moans, each one drawing you deeper into this unhurried, inevitable pull.

It doesn’t take long before his hand drifts lower, the movement unhurried but certain, a quiet promise in the way his touch traces down your body. His fingers slip easily between your thighs, pressing against the thin fabric of your panties, dragging upward in slow, deliberate strokes that make your breath catch. You sigh softly, the sound slipping out against your will, your hips shifting toward him in wordless invitation.

He buries his face against your neck again, the warmth of his mouth making you shiver as he peppers your skin with light, lingering kisses. He’s not rushing—he never does when it’s like this—but every touch is purposeful, coaxing you higher without a single wasted movement.

When you finally breathe his name, a soft plea in the quiet room, his fingers slip beneath the barrier of fabric as though they were always meant to be there. He finds you easily, circling your clit in slow, firm motions that make your lips part in a stifled moan. The heat coils low in your belly almost immediately, each measured pass of his fingers drawing you deeper under.

“Yes…” you sigh, your nails digging softly into the firm muscle of his back, your leg tightening where it’s draped over his hip. “I need this…”

“I know, love.” his voice is a low hum against your throat, his breath hot where it spills over your skin. The sound of your moan makes him grunt softly, almost in reflex. “I can tell by how wet you are right now.” the words are quiet, almost conversational, without an ounce of sharpness—just fact, the kind of thing that somehow makes your pulse quicken all the more.

His fingers tease you with maddening precision, dipping inside with slow intent before retreating to circle you again, each movement perfectly measured to unravel you bit by bit. His teeth graze your neck, a soft bite that melts into a kiss, as though he can’t decide whether to claim or worship you.

You tremble beneath him, already teetering close to the edge. A week of missing him—of brief phone calls, hurried texts, and stolen moments in the middle of too-busy days—has left you both wound tight. Those messages you sent him, meant to be innocent, were anything but once they sat in his mind long enough. The photo of you in his shirt, biting your lip, cheeks flushed, captioned with a simple miss you, baby. The way his replies were brief but always laced with something you could feel, something unspoken that had been building.

Now all of it has boiled down to this moment—his weight pressing you into the mattress, his voice low in your ear, his touch unhurried but merciless. You’ve been starving for him as he had been for you, and he’s making sure you feel every second of it.

He knew your body better than you knew it yourself. The truth of it settled in every time his hands were on you, every time his touch seemed to find you without searching. You could feel yourself edging closer by the way your soft moans began to catch, growing just a little louder, your thighs trembling against his hips. Your nails curled harder into the warm muscle of his back, dragging faint crescents across his skin.

He grunted softly into your neck, his breath brushing warm against your ear before his voice followed—low, certain, and edged with something that went straight through you. “I know you’re close.” his lips found that tender place just behind your ear, the spot that made your breath stutter, and he pressed a kiss there, deliberate and lingering. “Come for me, darling.”

His pace never faltered—slow, steady, merciless in its patience. He curved his fingers just right, finding that place inside you as if it were his own, coaxing rather than chasing. There was nothing hurried in his movements, and that unshakable rhythm only wound you tighter, stretching the anticipation until it felt almost unbearable.

You shivered beneath him, your voice a soft, needy whisper. “Kiss me…”

And he did, leaning down without hesitation, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that was both heat and comfort, steady enough to ground you as you tipped over the edge. You came with a sharp, quiet gasp against his lips, your body tightening around his fingers. He swallowed your pleasure in that kiss, his mouth moving with yours as if he could taste every pulse of it.