Kairah

"…I hate your family's timing" he muttered, kissing the top of your head. "next time i'm locking the door and pretending we're dead."

You lightly smacked his stomach.

He just laughed quietly and pulled you closer, both of you still buzzing with unreleased tension.

After your mom left the room, the tension in the air was still thick, but exhaustion was hitting you hard. you stayed curled up against Riki's chest for a few minutes before sighing.

"Baby… i'm really tired" you whispered, voice soft. "today was long. can we just sleep tonight? i don't think i can do the quiet sex thing right now."

You really did want to, but the shame on your face prevented you from even wanting to look Riki directly in the eyes, knowing he would say something about it...

Riki was quiet for a second, clearly disappointed, but he nodded without hesitation.

"Yeah, of course" he said gently, kissing the top of your head. "no pressure, dwarf. get some rest."

You both got up

Changed into pajamas — you in a loose tank top and soft shorts, Riki in black pijama pants and no shirt.

You talked quietly for a few more minutes about the water park tomorrow and how Seonghyun was already obsessed with Mina. eventually, Riki pulled you into his arms, spooning you from behind, and you both drifted off.

At 5:07 AM, the room was still dark, only the faint sound of waves outside.

You stirred awake as you felt Riki's hips slowly rolling against your ass.

He was rock hard, grinding his morning wood against you through his sweatpants while his lips pressed open-mouthed kisses and soft bites along your bare shoulder.

"Riki…" you whispered sleepily.

He let out a shaky breath against your neck, voice low and needy.

"Baby… it hurts" he murmured, grinding a little harder. "my morning wood is fucking killing me. i can't sleep like this. i need to cum so bad… please."

You let out a quiet, teasing laugh even though you were still half-asleep.

"You're so needy… even at five in the morning" you whispered, sounding bratty. "can't even control yourself for one night?"

Riki didn't answer with words. instead, he bit your shoulder a little harder and kept rolling his hips, pressing his thick erection firmly between your ass cheeks.

You bit your lip, feeling heat pool between your legs. you pushed your ass back against him on purpose, grinding slowly.

"…Fine" you whispered. "but we have to be really quiet. everyone's still sleeping."

Riki didn't waste a second.

He quickly pushed his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free his hard cock. you felt the hot, heavy length slap against your ass before he hooked his fingers into your shorts and panties, pulling them to the side.

He pressed the head of his cock against your entrance and pushed in slowly, stretching you open with a quiet groan right next to your ear.

"Fuck… so warm" he breathed, burying himself deep in one smooth thrust.

You gasped softly, gripping the pillow.

He started fucking you in spooning position —slow, deep rolls of his hips that made almost no sound. every thrust was controlled, but the angle made him hit so deep it was hard to stay quiet.

The new angle made him hit so deep it was hard to stay quiet.

Every slow, deliberate thrust pushed the head of his cock right against that sensitive spot inside you, making your toes curl and your breath hitch.

Riki kept one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you flush against his chest while his other hand explored your body lazily.

"Fuck, baby…" he whispered hotly against the back of your neck, voice hoarse with restraint. "you're squeezing me so tight. feel that?"

You nodded frantically, biting your lip hard. "mhm… you're so deep like this" you breathed, barely audible. "Riki… slower, they're going to hear…"

He chuckled quietly, the sound vibrating against your skin, and slowed his hips even more, dragging his cock almost all the way out before sliding back in deep and grinding.

His hand slid up under your tank top, cupping one of your breasts and squeezing it firmly, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

"You like it when i fuck you slow like this?" he murmured, lips brushing your ear. "all quiet and deep… while your parents are sleeping just one room away?"

"Yes…" you whimpered softly, pushing your ass back against him. "feels so good… but i'm trying so hard not to moan…"

Riki smiled against your shoulder and pinched your nipple, making you gasp.

His other hand traveled lower, slipping under the waistband of your shorts. his fingers found your clit and started rubbing slow, tight circles.

"That's it… stay quiet for me, love" he cooed, voice low and teasing. "such a good girl taking my cock so nicely. you're dripping down my dick, baby. so fucking wet."

You turned your head slightly, trying to look at him. "you're so needy in the morning… couldn't even wait a few hours…"

"Whose fault is that?" he whispered, thrusting a little harder while still keeping the movements controlled. "you spent all day teasing me. now you're gonna take care of me."

Deep, lazy thrusts combined with his fingers playing with your clit and his other hand massaging your breasts. the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, occasional soft whimpers you couldn't hold back, and the faint wet sound of him moving inside you.

After several minutes, Riki pressed a kiss to your neck and whispered, "i want you on top. turn around."

He pulled out slowly, making you whine at the emptiness. you turned around and straddled him backwards, facing away from him.

Riki helped guide you as you sank back down onto his cock, taking every inch until your ass was flush against his pelvis.

"Fuck— yes" he groaned quietly, hands gripping your hips. "ride me just like this, baby. nice and slow."

You started moving, rolling your hips in deep, sensual circles instead of bouncing. the position let him hit even deeper, and you had to cover your own mouth with one hand to stay quiet.

Riki sat up slightly behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist while his other hand returned to your clit, rubbing it steadily.

"God, you look so good riding me like this" he whispered, kissing your back. "ass bouncing on my cock while you try so hard to be quiet… my perfect little brat."

You leaned back against his chest, head falling onto his shoulder as you kept grinding on him.

"Riki…" you moaned softly "you're so hard… i can feel you throbbing inside me."

"Yeah?" he thrust up gently to meet your movements. "that's what you do to me. all day long, walking around in that tiny bikini, teasing me under the table… now you're gonna make me cum like this."

His fingers moved faster on your clit while you continued riding him in slow, deep motions.

The pleasure built gradually, thick and heavy in the quiet morning air. Riki's breathing grew more ragged against your neck as he fought to stay silent.

"Baby… i'm getting close" he warned, voice strained. "you feel too good."

You turned your head and whispered against his jaw, "then cum inside me… i want it."

Riki groaned softly, burying his face in your neck as his hips started moving a little faster, chasing his release while still trying to keep the bed from creaking too much.

You kept rolling your hips in deep, sensual circles, grinding down onto his cock while facing away from him.

The position made everything feel thicker, fuller. every time you sank down, he stretched you perfectly, pressing against that spot that made your thighs tremble.

Riki's hands were all over you. one stayed on your clit, rubbing slow, slick circles, while the other slid back under your tank top to grope your breasts, squeezing and tugging at your nipples.

"Fuck, babe…" he whispered breathlessly against your back, voice strained with the effort of staying quiet. "you're riding me so well. such a good little slut for me this early in the morning."

You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress a moan as you ground down harder.

"Shut up… you're the one who woke me up because you're so fucking needy" you whispered back, voice shaky.

Riki let out a quiet, breathy laugh and pinched your clit lightly, making your hips jerk.

"Yeah? And yet here you are… creaming all over my cock like you've been waiting for this too." He thrust up gently to meet your movements, burying himself deeper.

You leaned back against his chest, head resting on his shoulder as you continued rolling your hips.

"Riki…" you whimpered softly, "… i feel so full."

He groaned quietly into your neck and bit down gently, sucking on the skin as he started rubbing your clit faster.

"that's right, baby. take every inch. this pussy is mine" he murmured, voice husky. "even when you act like a brat all day… this tight little cunt still gets so wet for me."

You reached back with one hand, gripping his thigh for leverage as you started moving faster, still careful not to make the bed creak too loudly.

Riki's breathing grew heavier. his fingers on your clit never stopped, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm close…" you whispered desperately. "Riki, i'm gonna cum—"

"Me too" he groaned softly, thrusting up to meet you. "cum on my cock, baby. let me feel you."

His fingers moved faster on your clit while his other hand squeezed your breast hard. the combination finally pushed you over.

You came with a broken, muffled whimper, burying the back of your head into his neck as your walls clenched tightly around him. your whole body trembled in his lap as the orgasm washed over you.

Riki followed right after, burying himself deep and holding you down on his cock as he came. he let out a low, shaky groan against your shoulder, pulsing inside you as he filled you up with hot spurts of cum.

For a few long seconds, neither of you moved — just heavy breathing and the sound of waves outside the window.

Riki kissed your neck softly, still buried inside you. "good girl… you did so well staying quiet" he praised, voice hoarse.

You stayed like that for a little longer, enjoying the warmth and closeness, until he finally lifted you gently and pulled out. a trickle of his cum leaked down your thigh.

He quickly grabbed some tissues from the nightstand and cleaned you up carefully, then pulled your shorts and panties back into place. after fixing himself, he pulled you back into his arms, spooning you again.

"You okay?" he whispered, kissing the back of your head.

"Mhm…" you mumbled, already half-asleep again, feeling satisfied and exhausted. "but if my parents wake up early because of us, i'm blaming you."

Riki chuckled softly and wrapped his arm tighter around your waist.

"Worth it" he murmured.

Within minutes, both of you drifted back to sleep, bodies tangled together as the sky slowly began to lighten outside.

At 7:47 AM, the soft morning light filtered through the curtains of the cabin. you were still half-asleep when you heard your mom's voice gently calling from the hallway.

"Seonghyun, honey, time to wake up. we're going to the water park today!"

A few minutes later, her footsteps approached your door. she knocked twice before slowly opening it.

"Riki… sweetheart, it's time to wake up" she said softly. then her eyes landed on you. "and you too, sleepy girl. we need to leave around nine."

You murmured a tired "okay, Mom…" and tried to sit up.

But Riki had other plans.

His long arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling your back flush against his bare chest. his face was buried in the crook of your neck, messy black hair tickling your skin, and his warm breath fanned steadily against your shoulder.

He didn't move even an inch.

Your mom smiled softly at the sight, a fond look in her eyes.

"Look at him… he really doesn't want to let you go" she whispered with a quiet laugh. "i'll leave you two for a bit. breakfast will be ready soon — i'm making pancakes."

She closed the door gently, leaving the room in soft morning silence again.

You let out a small sigh and tried to wiggle free, but Riki only tightened his hold, pulling you even closer with a sleepy grunt.

"Riki…" you whispered, reaching back to poke his arm. "wake up. we have to get ready."

He didn't respond at first. Instead, he nuzzled his nose deeper into your neck, pressing a lazy kiss there before mumbling in his raspy morning voice:

"...Don't wanna."

You couldn't help but smile. even half-asleep, he was clingy. you turned slightly in his arms so you could see his face.

His eyes were still closed, lips in a slight pout, hair completely messy from sleep. he looked unfairly cute like this.

"We have to go to the water park, remember? Mom's already making breakfast. if we're late she'll drag us out herself.",

Riki let out a long, dramatic sigh, his arm still locked around your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear.

"Five more minutes…" he mumbled, voice deep and hoarse. "just… stay here. you're warm."

You ran your fingers through his messy hair, trying to wake him gently. "you were the one who wanted to go to the water park since years... now you're acting like this?"

He finally cracked one eye open, looking at you with a tired but playful expression.

"Maybe i changed my mind" he said, voice still sleepy. "we could stay in bed all day instead… i'll behave. mostly."

You raised an eyebrow. "mostly?"

Riki's lips curved into a small smirk. he leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to your collarbone.

"Mostly." he repeated, teasing. "unless you want me to keep moving against you like that. then i might need to tire you out again."

You smacked his chest lightly. "stop it. my mom is literally making pancakes right now."

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin, but finally loosened his grip.

He rolled onto his back with another groan, stretching his long arms above his head. the blanket slipped down, revealing his toned torso and tattoos.

"Fine… i'm getting up" he said, though he made no actual effort to move. he reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down onto his chest. "one kiss first. then i'll behave... dwarf."

You rolled your eyes but leaned down and gave him a soft morning kiss. Riki hummed happily against your lips, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.

When you pulled away, he finally sat up, rubbing his face with both hands.

"Water park at 9… your mom is scary when she's on schedule" he muttered, standing up and stretching. His sweatpants hung low on his hips as he walked over to start packing a small backpack.

You both moved around the room quietly, gathering towels, sunscreen, extra clothes, and snacks. a few minutes later, your mom opened the door again.

She paused when she saw Riki still shirtless in his pajama pants and you in your tiny sleep shorts and tank top. her eyebrows rose slightly in suspicion, but she kept her tone light.

"…Breakfast is almost ready. pancakes with chocolate chips. you two should get dressed soon."

Before she could leave, Seonghyun came barreling into the room and dramatically collapsed onto your bed.

"I don't want to go…" he whined, face buried in the pillow. "even Dad is still sleeping. Mom had to yell at him three times already."

From the kitchen, your mom’s voice rang out:

"If your father doesn't get up in the next two minutes, i'm eating all the pancakes myself!"

Seonghyun's head shot up instantly. "did i just hear... pancakes? with chocolate chips?"

The second your mom confirmed from the kitchen, he jumped off the bed like someone had lit a fire under him.

"I'm packing right now!" he yelled, sprinting out of the room and slamming his own door behind him.

The bedroom fell quiet again.

You were still standing near the bed folding a towel when Riki quietly walked up behind you.

Without saying a word, he wrapped his long arms around your waist from behind, pulling your back flush against his bare chest. he rested his chin on your shoulder, his messy hair tickling your cheek.

You smiled softly, leaning back into him.

"You're still tired?" you asked quietly.

"Mhm" he hummed, voice low and raspy.

His arms tightened around you as he pressed a slow kiss to the side of your neck. "but mostly i just like holding you like this."

He swayed both of you gently from side to side, still half-asleep. one of his hands slipped under the hem of your tank top, tracing lazy circles on your stomach with his fingers.

"You smell like me" he murmured against your skin, sounding pleased. "i like that. makes me want to keep you in this room all day."

You let out a soft laugh. "we can't. my mom will actually kill us if we're late."

Riki sighed dramatically but didn't let go. instead, he hugged you tighter, nuzzling into your neck.

"You're so warm… and soft" he whispered, voice drowsy and affectionate. "i like waking up next to you. even if you hit me and call me needy."

You turned your head slightly to look at him. "you are needy."

"Yeah" he admitted with a small smirk, kissing your jaw. "only for you though."

From the kitchen, your mom's voice rang out again, loud and playful:

"Love! if you don't get up right now i'm giving all your pancakes to Seonghyun!"

Riki chuckled quietly against your shoulder, clearly amused by the chaos of your family.

"Your dad is fighting for his life out there" he said, still refusing to release you. "should we help him?"

You shook your head, staying comfortably in his arms. "he dug his own grave. let him suffer."

Riki hummed in agreement and pressed another slow kiss to your neck, then your shoulder.

"I'm really glad i came on this trip" he whispered, more seriously this time. "even with all the sneaking around… being with you and your family feels nice. normal."

You placed your hands over his arms, gently squeezing. "you fit in really well. scarily well, actually."

He smiled against your skin. "good. Because i'm not planning on going anywhere."

Just then, your mom's voice got louder again as she continued scolding your dad from the kitchen. Riki finally loosened his hold, but not before stealing one last kiss on your cheek.

"Alright… let's get ready before your mom comes back and sees me hugging you like this" he said with a lazy grin. "she already looked suspicious earlier."

You both continued preparing the small backpack for the water park, stealing small touches and glances the entire time.

The morning light was getting brighter, and the smell of pancakes was starting to fill the entire cabin.

By 8:17 AM, the entire family was finally awake, dressed, and had their backpacks ready by the door.

The smell of breakfast filled every corner of the cabin. your mom had truly outdone herself — a huge stack of fluffy pancakes sat in the center of the table, surrounded by bowls of sliced strawberries, bananas, chocolate chips, maple syrup, honey, and whipped cream.

Everyone sat down. Riki was right next to you, still looking a little sleepy but trying his best to appear awake.

"Ms. Mom, these pancakes look incredible" Riki said, though his voice was quieter and less energetic than usual. "you really woke up early just to make all this… thank you."

Your mom smiled brightly. "eat as much as you want, Riki."

For the first few minutes, breakfast was peaceful.

The sound of forks and quiet conversation filled the air. that is, until your mom suddenly spoke while pouring more syrup on her pancakes.

"By the way…" she started casually, "when i walked into your room earlier, Riki was shirtless and you were in those tiny shorts. you two weren't… doing anything, right?"

The entire table went dead silent.

You froze mid-bite. Riki's eyes widened slightly. even Seonghyun looked up from his phone for a second.

"Mom!" you quickly said, face burning. "Seonghyun is literally sitting right here. can we not?"

Your dad slowly turned his head to look at Riki with a raised eyebrow. the pressure was immediate.

Riki, who had been caught off guard, sat up straighter and cleared his throat, panic flashing across his face for a split second before he put on his perfect-boyfriend mask.

"Sir, Ms. Mom..." he started, voice respectful and slightly dramatic.

"i have a lot of respect for your daughter and for this family. i would never do anything inappropriate, especially not under your roof or while we're all here together. i really care about her, and i respect you both too much to ever cross that line in a situation like this."

Your dad stared at him for a long second… then simply nodded, reached over, and took your mom’s hand.

"Alright, that's enough of that topic" your dad said calmly, changing the subject. "let's just enjoy breakfast."

Your mom sighed softly, looking a little guilty. "i'm sorry, Riki. i didn't mean to put you on the spot. i just… you two are still very young. i want you both to be careful and responsible. that's all."

You shot Riki a sharp side-eye that very clearly said i told you so.

Riki gave you a tiny, defeated smile and went back to eating his pancakes in silence.

Seonghyun, completely unbothered by the whole conversation, kept playing Battlegrounds on his phone while stuffing his face with chocolate chip pancakes. "these are so good…" he mumbled with his mouth full.

Once breakfast was over, your mom switched back into full boss mode.

"Alright everyone, let's move! put the backpacks in the car. check that you have everything. we're already running late!"

It was 8:34 AM.

Riki helped carry the big cooler filled with ice, drinks, and the ice creams you two had bought yesterday. your mom was already stressing in the driveway.

"We should've left ten minutes ago! why is everything always last minute in this family?"

Your dad walked beside her, rubbing her shoulder. "relax, honey. we're on vacation. the water park isn't going anywhere."

Seonghyun, already in the car, stuck his head out the window and pointed at you. "she's the last-minute one! she was still packing stuff while we were eating!"

Riki, who had just closed the trunk after putting the cooler inside, turned to you with that signature teasing smirk.

"See? you suck at packing, dwarf" he said quietly, just loud enough for you to hear.

You elbowed him in the ribs.

"Shut up. you're supposed to be on my side."

Riki laughed under his breath, rubbing the spot you hit. "never said i was on your side. i'm on the side of truth."

Your mom clapped her hands. "everyone in the car! Now!"

Riki opened the door for you like the perfect gentleman

The car engine started, and your mom kept muttering about being late as your dad backed out of the driveway.

The water park day had officially begun.

The car rolled into the huge parking lot of the water park at 9:14 AM. The sun was already intense, reflecting off the asphalt and making the air feel thick with heat.

The moment the engine stopped, your mom let out a long sigh.

"9:14, honey. nine fourteen" she said, turning to your dad with clear frustration. "i told you we should've left earlier. now we're late."

Your dad, ever the calm one, simply nodded and turned off the car. "you're right, love. i should've driven faster."

Seonghyun was the first one out, practically launching himself from the backseat. he ran to the trunk and started pulling out his backpack and two deflated floaties, his excitement impossible to contain.

Riki got out right after, rolling his shoulders before immediately helping with the heavy stuff.

He lifted the big cooler full of drinks and ice with ease, then grabbed two more heavy bags, muscles flexing under his black tank top.

You stepped out more gracefully, sliding your sleek black sunglasses onto your face.

A fitted black sleeveless top that hugged your body perfectly, a thin black open vest over it, and a white skirt that showed off your legs. your hair was straightened and glossy, falling beautifully over your shoulders.

Riki's eyes found you instantly. he paused for a second, openly staring as you adjusted your skirt, the one that has been a distraction for him throughout the trip.

"Shit…" he muttered under his breath, eyes trailing down your figure.

You walked over to him confidently and took one of the lighter bags from his hand, smirking.

"Stop staring and help, Riki."

He leaned slightly closer while your parents weren't looking. "how am i supposed to not stare when you look like that? you're actually insane."

You gave him a small, satisfied smile and headed toward your mom, who was now lightly tugging on your dad's ear while scolding him.

"Mom" you said, interrupting her lecture. "do you mind if we go ahead? we can find the table and wait for you guys there."

Your mom nodded, pulling out her phone and opening the QR tickets. "Yes, go ahead. here, take this. scan it at the entrance. we'll catch up soon. don't wander off too far."

You took the phone and nodded.

The three of you started walking toward the entrance. Seonghyun was practically skipping between you and Riki, full of energy.

"Hyung" he whispered excitedly, looking up at Riki. "when we see Mina… what should i do? should i act cool? or should i make jokes?"

Riki adjusted the heavy cooler on his shoulder and gave serious advice like a true older brother.

"Be yourself, but confident. make her laugh, but also tease her a little. girls like when you're playful. don't try too hard though, or it looks fake."

You were walking a bit ahead, chin slightly raised, fully aware of the looks you were getting from other people. you were in full baddie mode.

Riki noticed immediately and chuckled.

"Look at her, Seonghyun" he said loud enough for you to hear. "she's out here farming aura like her life depends on it."

You turned your head with a proud little smile. "i do look good today, don't i?"

Riki’s eyes scanned you again, slower this time. "you look fucking beautiful. that skirt is actually... insane."

Seonghyun made a disgusted face. "you two are so gross."

Thankfully, the line at the entrance wasn't too long. while waiting, Seonghyun's eyes widened as he took in the massive slides towering in the distance and the endless pools.

"Hyung, look at that one!" he pointed excitedly. "it's so tall! and there's a wave pool over there! this is going to be the best day ever!"

You fanned yourself with your hand, already feeling the heat. "it's so hot already… and it's not even 10 AM yet."

Riki stepped closer to you, his arm brushing against yours. "as soon as we put the stuff down, we're jumping in the water. you'll cool off fast.”

You turned to him with a teasing smirk. "are you a kid? so excited to get in the water this early in the morning?"

Riki raised an eyebrow, smirking back. "says the girl who was complaining about the heat two seconds ago. at least i'm honest about wanting to have fun."

Seonghyun laughed. "she just wants to keep walking around looking pretty instead of getting wet."

You smacked Riki's arm again. "both of you are annoying."

A few minutes later, your parents finally caught up, slightly out of breath.

"Found you!" your mom said. "let's go find our table. it should be in the shaded area."

The five of you walked together through the park. Seonghyun kept pointing at different attractions while Riki carried most of the heavy bags without complaining.

Every now and then, Riki would bump his shoulder against yours playfully.

You smiled, glancing at him.

Seonghyun turned around again. "are you two being gross again?"

Riki laughed. "relax, shortie. i'm just annoying my girlfriend."

You eventually reached your assigned table under a large shaded canopy with five comfortable lounge chairs and a small fan. it had a perfect view of the wave pool and several big slides.

Your mom clapped her hands happily. "this is perfect! rveryone put your stuff down and let's have fun!"

Riki set the heavy cooler down with a relieved sigh and looked at you with a small, secret smirk — the kind that told you this water park day was going to be full of teasing, stolen touches, and probably a lot of trouble.

It didn't take long for Seonghyun to start his mission.

"Riki-hyung! Please, let's go to the wave pool! i saw they're starting the big waves soon!" he begged, shaking Riki's arm like a little kid.

Riki, who was sitting under the shaded table, looked at you first before answering. "alright, i'm down bro… but only if we convince your sister to come with us.”

Seonghyun's eyes lit up as he turned to you with full determination.

You were sitting comfortably with your feet resting on Riki's lap, sipping a cold bottle of water while scrolling through your phone. the sun was getting stronger by the minute, but under the umbrella it was still bearable.

Riki's hand gently rested on your ankle, thumb slowly stroking your skin.

"Babe" he started sweetly, "it's already hot. we should go enjoy the water for a bit. the wave pool looks fun."

You didn't even look up from your phone. "i'm good right here."

Riki didn't give up. he started massaging your feet with both hands, pressing his thumbs into the soles with just the right pressure.

"C'mon, dwarf… please" he said softly, using that low, persuasive tone he knew usually worked on you. "just for a little while. we can float around, cool down…"

You hummed, still focused on your phone. "not in the mood."

From a few meters away, Seonghyun put on his best puppy eyes, clasping his hands together dramatically.

"Please, noona…? i'll share my floaties with you!"

You sighed, finally lowering your phone. "fine. but if i hear even one single teasing comment from either of you, i'm coming straight back here."

Riki smiled victoriously. "deal."

You stood up and looked around. "Riki, come with me to the bathroom. i need to change."

Riki got up immediately. "of course, baby."

He picked up your bag like a perfect gentleman and walked beside you toward the changing rooms. you walked with confidence, hips swaying slightly in your outfit.

When you reached the entrance of the women's bathroom, you turned to take your bag from him.

Riki quickly glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention, then gave you a firm, playful spank on your ass.

You gasped and turned to him with wide eyes. "Riki!"

He smirked, completely shameless. "what? you look too good in that skirt. couldn't help it."

"You're actually annoying" you muttered, but there was no real anger in your voice. you took the bag and disappeared into a cubicle.

A few minutes later, you came out wearing a new bikini — this one was a soft pink, same revealing than the black one from yesterday. the top was tiny, and the bottoms sat high on your hips with thin strings.

Riki's eyes darkened the moment he saw you. he let out a low whistle, biting his lip and moving his tongue to his cheek inside his mouth.

"Fuck… you're serving today, huh?" he said, voice quieter. "that pink looks perfect on you"

You posed for a second, feeling confident with him watching. "you like it?"

"I love it" he replied, eyes scanning you up and down. "but i'm gonna have to fight every guy here who looks at you. you're too pretty."

You smiled and walked closer, lightly hitting his chest. "then you better stay close and protect me."

Riki grinned and took your hand as you both walked back.

When you returned to the table, Seonghyun was already waiting impatiently.

"Finally!" Seonghyun cheered.

Your mom immediately started giving instructions. "put on sunscreen before you go in the water. and take care of Seonghyun, okay? you two are in charge. stay safe and don't do anything crazy."

Riki nodded seriously, slipping perfectly into his responsible boyfriend role. "don't worry, Ms. mom, i'll watch them both."

Your mom smiled, satisfied.

The three of you headed toward the wave pool, the sun was already blazing. luckily for Seonghyun, a group of kids he had met at the beach yesterday were there. they waved at him excitedly.

"Can i go play with them?" Seonghyun asked, bouncing on his feet.

You nodded. "yes, but put on sunscreen first. if you don't, i'll rub it on you like a baby."

Seonghyun quickly applied some and ran off to join his friends in the wave pool.

You and Riki stayed near the edge.

You were already putting sunscreen on your face, arms, and so on. you handed him the sunscreen bottle and turned around, pulling your hair over one shoulder.

"I can't reach my back" you said.

Riki took the bottle with way too much enthusiasm. "i got you, babe"

He squeezed a generous amount onto his hands and started applying it to your shoulders, then slowly down your back.

His hands were warm and thorough, massaging the lotion into your skin. when he reached your lower back, he glanced around to make sure Seonghyun wasn't watching…

Then he gave your ass a firm, playful spank, the sound slightly muffled by the loud park noise.

"Riki!"you hissed, turning your head.

He just smirked, continuing to rub the sunscreen like nothing happened. "sorry. couldn't resist. this bikini is too good."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "you're really asking for it today."

Riki leaned closer, whispering in your ear while his hands kept working on your lower back.

"Maybe i am" he said, voice low and teasing. "you look way too hot. if you want, we can hide and...—"

You turned around and snatched the bottle from his hands, smirking.

"Stop it, now... just... turn around." and of course, he obeyed.

You squeezed a generous amount of sunscreen onto your hands and began spreading it across his skin.

Your fingers moved slowly, almost reverently. You couldn’t help but admire him — the way his muscles shifted under your touch, the smooth expanse of his back, the few moles scattered like stars, the sharp line of his shoulders tapering down to his narrow waist.

Even though he could be ridiculously childish sometimes, your heart swelled with quiet affection.

You cleared your throat softly, trying to sound normal.

"Ready." you murmured, your voice suddenly gentle.

Riki turned around immediately and pulled you into a tight hug, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek, then another softer one on your temple.

"Thank you, baby" he whispered against your skin.

You stayed in his arms for a moment before pulling back slightly.

"Actually… i don't really feel like going to the wave pool" you admitted. "it's too loud and crowded now. i want to go to a normal pool… a calmer one. just with you."

Riki glanced around quickly. right in front of the wave pool was a large, standard pool with crystal-clear water and far fewer people.

"Perfect" he said. he turned toward Seonghyun, who was already splashing with his friends, and shouted, "Seonghyun! we're going to the pool right in front! don't do anything stupid and don't leave without telling us, okay?"

Seonghyun gave him a thumbs up.

Riki took your hand, intertwining your fingers as you both walked toward the calmer pool.

You stepped in first, sighing in relief as the cool water touched your skin.

"Hurry up" you called to him, already waist-deep.

Riki smirked.

Without warning, he took a running start and did a dramatic flip, tucking into a clean somersault before crashing into the water right next to you.

A huge splash hit you directly in the face.

You stood there, mouth open in shock, water dripping from your hair and lashes. a few people nearby laughed at the scene.

"God, Riki" you said sarcastically, wiping your face. "so mature."

Riki resurfaced laughing, shaking his wet hair like a dog. "don't be a party pooper. you know that was cool."

He swam closer and wrapped his arms around your waist underwater, pulling you against him.

Before you could protest, he leaned in and kissed your neck playfully, a little too passionately for a public pool.

"Riki—" you whispered, pushing him back gently. "people are watching…"

He grinned, clearly unbothered. "let them watch."

You two stayed like that for a while — floating, talking quietly, his arms around you as the water gently moved around your bodies. it felt peaceful.

Eventually Riki pulled away.

"Wait here. i'm gonna do another flip."

He swam to the edge and climbed out. just as he was about to run and jump in, a girl around your age approached him.

"Excuse me… sorry to bother you" she said, fidgeting. "my friend over there thinks you're really cute. could she maybe have your insta?"

Riki's expression turned cold and uninterested in less than a second.

"I have a girlfriend" he replied flatly. "No thanks."

The girl smiled awkwardly and walked back to her friend, who was staring from a distance.

You had already spotted her — she was pretty, but definitely not Riki's type.

You found it completely ridiculous that even after spending all this time in Riki's arms, some girls still tried as if you didn't exist.

Riki didn't even glance at her again. He took his running start and did another acrobatic flip into the water, landing with another big splash.

When he swam back to you, he immediately cornered you against the edge of the pool, arms on either side of your body.

"Did you see that flip?" he asked proudly, smiling.

You looked him up and down slowly, then answered with a clearly fake tone.

"Yeah… i saw it."

Riki noticed immediately. he tilted his head, that knowing smirk appearing.

"You're jealous."

"I'm not" you denied quickly, turning your face away.

He laughed softly, leaning in closer until his forehead almost touched yours.

"You are. i can tell. your voice gets all weird when you lie."

You stayed quiet, refusing to admit it.

Riki's expression softened. he cupped your cheek with one wet hand.

"Hey" he said gently. “You know i only want you, right? no one else even comes close."

He kissed the corner of your mouth sweetly, then whispered against your lips:

"My bratty, jealous little dwarf."

You tried to push him away, but you were smiling.

"Shut up."

Riki just laughed and pulled you closer again, the water rippling around you both as the sun continued to shine brightly above.

The hours passed in a blur of laughter, slides, and bright sunlight.

From 10:30 until almost 1 PM, the three of you went from one attraction to another — massive slides, the lazy river, the wave pool again, and even a few adrenaline-pumping drops. Seonghyun was in heaven, dragging Riki everywhere while you tried to keep up.

But something kept bothering you.

Everywhere you went, girls stared at Riki.

Openly.

Some whispered to their friends, others smiled at him, a few even tried to get closer when you weren't right beside him. you knew Riki was handsome. you knew he turned heads. but today it felt constant, and it slowly chipped away at your mood.

By the time you returned to the table, your parents had already set out containers of food — kimbap, fried chicken, fruit, and cold drinks.

Seonghyun threw himself into a chair dramatically.

"Mom, Dad, we went on the tallest slide like five times! and the wave pool was crazy! i'm so hungry"

Your mom smiled. "eat a lot then."

You forced a small smile. "i'm going to the bathroom first. i need to fix my hair"

Riki noticed immediately. the way you said it, the slight tension in your shoulders — he knew you too well. he stood up right after you.

"I'll go with her" he said casually.

You didn't argue.

The two of you walked in silence toward the bathrooms. This area of the park was quieter, and the family bathroom/shower area was almost empty.

Once you reached the entrance, you tried to walk in alone, but Riki gently grabbed your wrist.

"Wait" he said, voice low.

You stopped but didn't turn around immediately.

The noise of the water park felt distant now, muffled by the walls. the area was surprisingly empty— most people were out enjoying the slides and pools.

Riki stepped closer, still holding your wrist. "talk to me. what's going on with you?"

You pulled your hand away and finally faced him. your chest felt tight, a mix of irritation and something heavier sitting right behind your ribs.

"Nothing" you replied, a little too quickly. "i just need to fix my hair. it's all messed up from the water."

Riki studied your face for a second, eyebrows slightly furrowed. He wasn't buying it.

"You've been weird since we left the wave pool" he said, leaning against the wall. his tone wasn't angry, but there was a hint of frustration in it.

"You barely talked on the way back. did i do something?"

You let out a short, bitter laugh and crossed your arms.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

Riki raised an eyebrow. "get what? i've been with you the whole time. i didn't talk to any girl, didn't smile at anyone, didn't do shit. so what exactly is the problem?"

You felt the words bubbling up before you could stop them.

"The problem is that everywhere we go, they look at you like you're a fucking meal" you said, voice lower but sharp. "and they don't care that i'm right there. like i'm invisible. like it doesn't matter that you have a girlfriend standing next to you."

Riki exhaled through his nose, looking away for a second before turning back to you.

"So… you're mad at me because other people look at me?"

His tone was calm, but there was a clear edge of disbelief. "i can't control what other people do, you know that, right?"

"It's not just that they look" you snapped, voice cracking a little. "it's the way they look. like they're hoping i disappear. lile they think they have a chance. and you just… walk around like it's nothing."

Riki ran a hand through his damp hair, clearly trying to stay patient but failing a bit.

"Because it is nothing" he replied.

"I don't care about any of them. i'm here with you. i chose you. i'm holding your hand the whole damn day. what more do you want me to do? wear a sign that says 'taken'?"

His words stung more than you expected.

"You don't get it" you muttered, looking down. "it makes me feel… small. like I have to compete just to stand next to you."

Riki was quiet for a moment. then he stepped forward, gently but firmly taking your hand again.

"Come here."

You resisted at first, but he gave a small tug and pulled you toward one of the larger shower stalls at the end of the row.

He slid the curtain closed behind you both with a sharp snap.

The space was small, the air still slightly humid.

Riki gently backed you up against the tiled wall, not rough, but not giving you much room to escape either. his hands rested on the wall on either side of your head, caging you in.

His eyes searched yours.

"I'm not trying to be an asshole" he said, voice lower now. "but you can't keep doing this every time, i haven't given you any reason to doubt me. not once."

You looked up at him, throat tight.

"I know you haven't" you admitted, voice quieter. "but it still bothers me. it makes me feel like… like i'm not enough to make them stop looking."

Riki's jaw clenched. He let out a slow breath, clearly trying to choose his words carefully.

"You are enough" he said. "more than enough. but i can't stop other people from existing."

The silence that followed was heavy. you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. part of you knew he was right. another part still felt hurt.

"I hate feeling like this" you whispered, eyes stinging. "i hate that it affects me so much."

Riki's expression softened just a little. he brought one hand down to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your skin.

"I know" he murmured. "but shutting down and pulling away from me isn't going to fix it. talk to me next time. don't make me chase you into the bathroom like i did something wrong."

You nodded slowly, but the knot in your chest didn't fully disappear.

The tension between you two was thick — not angry, but emotionally charged.

Riki was close, very close, his body heat mixing with the leftover humidity in the stall.

He leaned his forehead against yours for a moment, breathing steadily.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and warm. Riki's breath fanned across your lips, slow and deliberate.

You could feel the tension radiating from his body — not just from the argument, but something deeper, something hotter.

He let out a long, frustrated sigh that brushed right against your mouth.

"…you're such a fucking brat, you know that?" he murmured, voice low and rough.

Before you could answer, he closed the small distance and kissed you.

It wasn't gentle.

The kiss was slow, wet, and deliberately filthy.

His lips moved against yours with purpose, tilting his head to deepen it almost immediately. his tongue slipped into your mouth without hesitation, sliding hot and heavy against yours in long, sensual strokes.

You could taste the faint salt of the pool water on him, mixed with the sweetness of the drink he'd had earlier.

The kiss was messy — wet sounds filling the small space as your tongues moved together, slow and indulgent, like he was savoring every second.

A soft, involuntary sound escaped your throat.

Riki's hands weren't shy.

One stayed cupping your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek almost tenderly, while the other slid down your body without hesitation.

His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your pink bikini bottoms, palm flattening against your lower stomach before moving lower.

He cupped you possessively, two fingers pressing between your folds, feeling how wet you already were.

You gasped into his mouth.

"Riki…" you breathed against his lips, voice shaky. "we're in public… someone could walk in."

He didn't pull his hand away. instead, he rubbed slow, deliberate circles against your clit, kissing you even deeper, tongue stroking yours in time with his fingers.

"Just a little bit" he whispered hotly against your mouth, the words barely audible. "i just need to touch you for a second."

You tried to protest again, but it came out as a quiet whimper when his middle finger teased your entrance, not pushing in, just circling, spreading your wetness.

Your hand stayed in his hair, fingers tightening slightly as you kissed him back, still affected by your earlier jealousy but unable to resist the pull between you.

Riki groaned softly into the kiss, the sound deep and frustrated.

"You drive me mad" he muttered, lips brushing yours with every word. "one second i'm trying to talk to you, the next i just want to bend you over"

His fingers kept moving — slow, teasing strokes that made your hips twitch against his hand.

He kissed you again, slower this time, sucking on your bottom lip before sliding his tongue back into your mouth, wet and sensual. the kiss was so deep it felt almost obscene, saliva mixing as he explored your mouth like he had all the time in the world.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, foreheads still touching.

"I hate how much i want you even when i'm annoyed at you" you whispered, voice unsteady.

Riki let out a low, breathy chuckle, almost dark.

"Yeah?" His fingers pressed a little firmer against your clit, rubbing in tight circles. "that makes two of us. you're standing here jealous as hell… and i'm still so fucking hard for you it hurts."

He kissed you again, hungrier this time, tongue licking into your mouth as his hand worked between your legs with practiced ease.

Your breathing was getting heavier, small whimpers slipping out between kisses despite how hard you tried to stay quiet.

Riki's free hand moved up to cradle the back of your neck, keeping you close as he kissed you slow and deep, almost lazily, like he wanted to drown in you.

The contrast between his filthy touch below and the almost romantic way he was kissing you made your head spin.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your fingers tightening in his hair as his hand continued its slow, torturous movements between your thighs.

The tension in the small shower stall was thick enough to cut with a knife — a messy mix of lingering hurt, frustration, desire, and love.

Riki kissed you like he was trying to erase every doubt in your mind, while his hand reminded your body exactly who it belonged to.

He groaned quietly into your mouth as two of those long fingers glided between your folds, coating themselves in your wetness before slowly pushing inside you.

You gasped against his lips, your body tensing for a second before melting into the sensation.

Riki's fingers were thick and skilled, curling perfectly as he pumped them slowly, deliberately, stroking that sensitive spot inside you with every movement.

"Always so wet for me…" he whispered against your mouth, voice deep and intimate. "even when you're mad at me."

You moaned softly, trying to stay quiet as his fingers worked you open.

The wet, slick sound of his fingers moving in and out of you was unmistakable in the small stall.

Riki kissed you again, slower this time, tongue licking into your mouth while his fingers continued their steady rhythm — not too fast, but deep enough to make your knees weak.

Your hand stayed in his hair, fingers gently tugging at the damp strands as your other hand pressed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

Your eyes eventually drifted down between your bodies. his cock was straining hard against his swim trunks, the outline obvious and almost painful-looking. guilt twisted in your stomach.

You reached down and gently stopped his wrist.

"Riki… wait" you whispered, breathing heavily.

He paused, fingers still buried inside you, and looked at you with dark, questioning eyes.

You didn't say anything else.

Instead, you leaned in and started kissing his neck — slow, open-mouthed kisses along his sharp jawline and down the column of his throat.

Your hands slid down his toned torso, tracing every ridge of muscle, every faint scar, every mole. when you reached the waistband of his trunks, you dropped to your knees in front of him.

You pressed soft kisses to the small kiss-shaped tattoo right above his inguinal line, then licked it slowly, savoring the taste of his skin mixed with chlorine.

Riki let out a shaky breath, one hand gently resting on top of your head.

You looked up at him with those big, beautiful eyes — a silent question.

Riki swallowed hard, jaw clenched. his voice came out low and real, a little hoarse:

"…You don't have to."

But you wanted to.

You hooked your fingers into his waistband and slowly pulled his trunks down just enough to free his cock. it sprang out, heavy and flushed, the tip already glistening.

Riki exhaled sharply through his nose, his abs tensing visibly.

"Shit…" he breathed, looking down at you. "you look so pretty on your knees like that.”

You leaned in and kissed the base of his cock, then slowly dragged your tongue up the underside, savoring every vein. Riki's hand tightened gently in your hair, not pushing, just holding.

"Fuck, baby… you're really gonna do this right here?" he whispered, voice thick with both disbelief and want. "after arguing with me and everything?"

You nodded, eyes locked on his as you took him into your mouth.

Riki groaned deeply, head falling back for a second before he looked down again, watching you with hooded eyes.

"That's it… just like that" he murmured, voice rough but tender.

You worked him slowly at first, starting to take him deeper little by little, your hand stroking what you couldn't fit.

The wet sounds were lewd, but the shower noise from earlier still helped cover them slightly.

Riki's breathing grew heavier, his fingers flexing in your hair as he fought the urge to thrust into your mouth.

You hummed around him, the vibration making his thighs tense. he let out a low, shaky groan and gently caressed your cheek with his thumb.

"Look at me" he whispered.

When your eyes met his, the intensity in his gaze made your stomach flip.

"Yeah… just like that" he breathed. "my pretty girl."

“Fuck…” he muttered, voice thick.

You wrapped your lips around the head and sucked gently, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip.

You sank down until he hit the back of your throat. you relaxed your jaw and swallowed around him, earning a deep, guttural groan from Riki.

His hand came to rest on the back of your head, not pushing, just holding you there as you began to bob slowly.

The wet, obscene sounds of your mouth working his cock filled the small shower stall — soft, slick gluck noises every time you took him deep.

You looked up at him through your lashes as you sucked him harder, hollowing your cheeks. your hand stroked the base of his cock in perfect rhythm with your mouth, twisting slightly on every upward stroke.

Saliva dripped down your chin, making a mess, but you didn't care. you wanted him to feel everything.

Riki's breathing grew heavier.

His hips twitched forward slightly, but he held back, letting you control the pace. you pulled off for a second, gasping for air, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cock.

You stroked him fast with your hand while licking and sucking on the underside, paying special attention to the sensitive spot just below the head.

"Goddamn…" Riki groaned, his voice rough and low.

You hummed around him in response and took him deep again, relaxing your throat until your nose brushed against his pelvis.

You held yourself there for a few seconds, eyes watering, before pulling back and gasping.

Riki's hand tightened gently in your hair.

"So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth" he said, almost reverently. "keep going, baby. just like that."

You did.

You sucked him with renewed enthusiasm — faster, sloppier, wetter.

Your hand pumped the part you couldn't fit while your tongue worked the head every time you pulled back.

Drool ran down your chin and dripped onto your chest. the sounds were filthy, loud in the small space, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Riki's thighs started to tremble. his breathing was ragged now, low groans escaping him with every deep suck.

"Fuck— i'm getting close" he warned, voice strained. "you want it in your mouth?"

You pulled off just enough to answer, lips shiny and swollen.

"On my face" you whispered, looking up at him with hazy eyes.

Riki cursed under his breath.

He pulled his cock out of your mouth with a wet pop and started stroking himself fast, the head aimed directly at your face. you kept your mouth open, tongue out, eyes locked on his as he pumped his fist.

"Shit… look at you" he groaned, voice breaking. "so eager for my cum."

His strokes grew faster, more desperate. his abs tensed, veins in his forearm popping as he jerked himself off right in front of your face. you stayed perfectly still, tongue out, waiting.

With a deep, broken groan, Riki came.

The first thick rope of cum landed across your tongue and upper lip.

The second hit your cheek. more followed, painting your face in warm, sticky streaks — your nose, your chin, even a little on your eyelashes.

He kept stroking himself through it, milking every drop onto your waiting face while letting out low, shaky groans.

When he finally finished, he tapped the sensitive head of his cock against your tongue a few times, smearing the last remnants across your lips.

"… you look so good covered in my cum" he whispered, breathing hard.

His thumb gently wiped some from your cheek and pushed it between your lips so you could suck it clean.

You did, looking up at him the entire time.

Riki stared down at you for a long moment, chest heaving, before he helped you stand up.

He pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead despite the mess on your face.

Riki stayed still for a few seconds, breathing hard, his cock still twitching against your lips. he gently wiped some of his cum from your cheek with his thumb, then suddenly froze.

He turned his head, listening carefully. he peeked through a small gap in the curtain, scanning the bathroom area.

Empty. no footsteps, no voices. just the distant noise of the water park.

He let the curtain fall back into place and looked down at you.

"Come here, baby" he murmured, voice low and rough.

Slowly he turned you around, pressing your front against the wet tiled wall. your palms flattened against the cool surface as he stepped right behind you, chest to your back.

His hard cock, still slick from your mouth, slid between your ass cheeks. he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating against your shoulder as he rolled his hips, rubbing his length up and down your slit teasingly.

"Fuck… feel that?" he breathed against your ear. "so hard because of you."

You whimpered, pushing back against him instinctively.

Riki brought his hand up — the same fingers that had been inside you moments ago — and pressed them against your lips.

"Open" he ordered softly.

You obeyed, taking two of his long fingers into your mouth, sucking them obediently while he continued grinding his cock between your cheeks. the taste of yourself mixed with his skin made you moan around his fingers.

"Good girl" he whispered, voice thick. he pumped his fingers slowly in and out of your mouth, matching the rhythm of his hips. "suck them just like you sucked my cock."

You did, swirling your tongue around his fingers as he rubbed the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you mercilessly.

After a few moments, he pulled his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop and gripped your hip with that same hand.

"Stay still for me" he murmured.

With his free hand he moved your bikini aside.

He lined himself up and slowly pushed inside you, stretching you open inch by inch.

You let out a long, shaky moan, forehead pressed against the tiles as he filled you completely. Riki groaned deeply, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Mh… so tight" he rasped, staying still for a second to let you adjust. "you always take me so well."

He started moving — slow, deep thrusts that made your body rock against the wall with every roll of his hips.

One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest, while his other hand braced on the wall beside your head.

The position was incredibly intimate, his body completely covering yours, skin sliding against skin.

Your moans were soft but constant, each thrust drawing a new sound from your throat.

"Riki…" you gasped, pushing back to meet him. "you're so... huge— mh"

He groaned in response, the sound low and guttural, lips pressed against your shoulder.

His hand on your waist slid down to your hip, gripping you tighter as he fucked you harder.

The wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of you mixed with the shower and your shared heavy breathing. every time he bottomed out, a soft slap echoed in the stall.

"You feel so fucking good" he whispered against your neck, voice hoarse. "so warm… so wet for me."

You reached back with one hand, threading your fingers through his damp hair again, tugging gently as he thrust into you. your other hand stayed pressed against the wall for balance.

"Harder" you breathed, voice trembling. "please…"

Riki didn't need to be told twice.

He adjusted his stance and started fucking you with more force, hips snapping against your ass while keeping your bodies pressed together.

The new intensity made your moans louder, more desperate. you tried to muffle them against your arm, but it was getting harder.

"Quiet, baby" he groaned near your ear, though his own sounds were getting rougher. "don't want anyone hearing how well i'm fucking you."

He changed the angle slightly, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust.

Your legs started shaking. Riki noticed and wrapped his arm tighter around your waist, holding you up as he railed you against the wall.

"You're squeezing me so tight" he panted, voice breaking with pleasure. "gonna make me cum again if you keep doing that."

You moaned his name, fingers tightening in his hair as the pleasure built rapidly.

"Don't stop… Riki, please don't stop—"

He groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest. his hand left the wall and slid between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles as he continued pounding into you.

The combination was overwhelming. your moans turned into high-pitched whimpers, your body trembling in his arms as he fucked you harder, deeper, chasing both of your releases.

"I'm close" you gasped, voice breaking. "i'm so close—"

"Me too" he groaned, burying his face in your neck. "cum with me, baby. let me feel you."

But Riki didn't let you finish like that.

With a low, frustrated sound in his throat, he suddenly pulled out of you.

You whimpered at the emptiness, legs trembling, but before you could protest he turned you around to face him. his hands were firm on your hips as he lifted your left leg again, hooking it high around his waist.

The new position pressed your back against the wet tiles, your chests flush together, hearts pounding against each other.

He looked straight into your eyes as he pushed back inside you in one slow, deep thrust.

A broken moan left your lips.

The eye contact made everything more intense — there was no hiding, no escaping the raw connection between you. Riki groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours.

"Fuck… look at me" he whispered, voice hoarse and thick with need.

He started moving again — deep, rolling thrusts that made your body jolt against the wall with every stroke. Riki's hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing slow, firm circles exactly how you liked it.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry of pleasure. you reached up, threading your fingers through his wet hair again, tugging gently as he fucked you against the wall.

Riki leaned in and kissed you.

The kiss was slow, wet, and incredibly intimate.

His tongue moved against yours in deep, sensual strokes, tasting you like he couldn't get enough.

Every thrust was matched with a slow lick of his tongue, every roll of his hips met with a soft suck on your bottom lip. the sounds were filthy but beautiful — the wet slide of his cock moving inside you, the slick sounds of your tongues tangling, your soft whimpers and his low, throaty groans.

Your leg tightened around his waist as he drove deeper. Riki's thumb never stopped its steady rhythm on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge while he kissed you like he was trying to memorize the taste of your moans.

"You feel so good" he breathed against your lips, voice rough but full of emotion. "i love being inside you like this."

You moaned into his mouth, fingers tightening in his hair as another deep thrust made your eyes roll back for a second. your free hand traced down his chest, feeling every muscle, every ridge, every mole under your fingertips.

"Riki…" you whimpered between kisses, voice shaky. "you're so deep… i can feel you everywhere."

He groaned deeply, the sound vibrating against your tongue as he kissed you harder.

His hips snapped forward with more force, but he kept the movements controlled, grinding against you.

The thumb on your clit sped up slightly, drawing tight, slick circles that made your thighs shake.

You were getting dangerously close.

Your moans were growing louder, harder to control. Riki seemed to notice and kissed you even deeper, swallowing every sound you made as he fucked you against the wall with slow, powerful strokes.

Just as the pleasure started to crest, just as your walls began to flutter around him —

Footsteps.

Clear footsteps entered the bathroom area.

Riki froze instantly, buried deep inside you.

His hand flew up to cover your mouth, eyes wide with alarm. your heart hammered against your ribs as you both went completely still, his cock throbbing inside you, your walls clenching around him from the sudden stop.

From outside the curtain, Seonghyun's voice called out innocently.

"Noona? Are you in here? Mom wants a family photo!"

Riki's eyes met yours. His hand stayed firmly over your mouth, his body pressed against yours, cock still buried to the hilt inside you. a bead of sweat mixed with water ran down his temple.

He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, barely audible:

"…Fuck."

His voice was full of pure frustration — deep, low, and genuinely annoyed.

He was still rock hard inside you, your combined arousal dripping down your thighs, and your face still had streaks of his cum on your cheek and chin from earlier. the situation was beyond risky.

Riki closed his eyes for a second, breathing heavily through his nose, clearly fighting every instinct to keep moving.

Seonghyun's voice came again, a little closer.

"Noona? Hyung?"

Riki looked at you, eyes dark with unresolved lust and irritation.

He pressed his forehead against yours, hand still covering your mouth as he whispered so quietly you could barely hear it:

"We're so fucked…"

Caleb ruts his hips upward, unable to keep himself from your touch, “I know baby—I know. I’m trying.” 

You giggle breathlessly, kissing his throbbing neck. You knew he was trying his hardest. You’d both agreed to “take things slow.” Not because you were virgins, because you weren’t. Nor was it because you weren’t ready, or he wasn’t ready, you both were. Maybe too ready, with the way you guys were going at it like horny teenagers on your couch.

But, amidst the landscape of your changing relationship, you’d wanted to tread carefully, fearful of what could happen if this all imploded. If maybe you weren’t meant to be more than the relationship you’d held all your lives. 

You didn’t want to let the lust take over and distract you from something you’d wanted nearly all your life. Caleb.

You honestly couldn’t be sure if Caleb had agreed to it because he actually agreed with your reasoning or simply because, for his entire life, he’d had trouble saying no to you.

In any case, he agreed and he’d been a wonderful sport about it. 

But it was fucking painful. It’d been a few weeks since those deeply hidden feelings had come tumbling out of both your lips. You weren’t sure if you were always this way, or if this was the result of years of denial and restraint, but it was nearly impossible for you to keep your hands off him, and him you. 

But that didn’t mean you hadn’t found other ways to indulge in each other. Your cheeks heat as you recall the vivid memories of other things you’d done on this very couch. The days he visited Linkon, or you visited Skyhaven, were filled with lots of making out and heavy petting. But never more than that. 

“W-We should stop,” Caleb pants through clenched teeth, burying his face into your shoulder, “Now. Before things go further.”

“Y-Yeah, we should,” you agree, but you make absolutely no move to climb off his lap. In fact, your hips continue rhythmically rolling against him, making him throw his head back with a strangled moan.

“Fuck—you’re killing me,” he whispers, kissing your temple—not trusting himself to taste your lips right now. 

“We can still do other things, remember?” you murmur, fingers already finding his belt, hesitating before moving further. Caleb curses under his breath. 

“God…The things you do to me,” he mutters lowly, his eyes hooded and swirling darkly as he speaks again.

“Okay, show me what you want to do then, princess.” 

You bite your lip, knowing Caleb has given you full reigns—wanting, needing you to take control, lest he take things too far. He couldn’t trust himself around you and needed your guidance to know what was too much.  

Taking a deep breath, you try to calm your hyperactive nerves. Suddenly, under Caleb’s intense and curious eyes, you felt shy. While you had held him in your hands before, you’d never gone farther than that—than an innocent little handjob or some innocent clit play. 

Caleb hesitates before leaning back, giving you more space between your bodies so that you can do whatever it is you’re planning. 

You try your best not to gawk when you see how thick Caleb is in your fingers. You’d seen it before, but it was impressive every time. Caleb’s head is thrown back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as you give him a few languid pumps.

“C-Christ,” Caleb growls. His entire body trembles, fighting with himself to not thrust his hips into your palm. 

“Just like that, princess,” Caleb gasps for air. He’d experienced your fingers a few times before, and he’d never tire of it. Everything about you was soft, warm, and perfect.

Watching Caleb’s face contort in pleasure, feeling his plentiful pre-cum spilling over your fingers, makes your own core ache with desire, the familiar and uncomfortable feeling of your panties smearing against your wet core making you squirm. 

You wanted to feel good too.  

Caleb’s eyes widen when you wriggle out of your shorts, leaving you in nothing other than your soaked lace underwear. His heart pounds so forcefully that his ears start to ring. 

“W-What are you—”

He’s cut off by his own moan when you give him an unsteady jerk, struggling to do both things at once.

“S-Sorry,” you giggle nervously. Caleb’s fingers itch to each out and touch your sweet spot, like he had several times before. But before he can even open his mouth to ask, you’re releasing him from your fingers and scooting closer. 

Caleb’s mind races a mile a minute, hypnotized by your glistening folds, mere inches away from his own leaking cock. 

“S-Seriously, what are you doing?” he chokes out your name, doing everything he can to not move—to not mold himself against you. He could practically feel the heat radiating off of you and he wanted it. 

“Trying something new,” you whisper, taking the plunge before you lose your courage and pressing right against him. His hardened shaft parts your lips, your body enveloping him without penetrating, 

Caleb lets out a string of expletives that would make their grandmother roll in her grave. He grips your hips, stilling your movements. 

“What—hah—happened to taking it slow?” Caleb demands, unsure how far you’re willing to go right now. If it was up to him he’d lift you and impale you on his cock right then and there. And he could. He really could. 

“We still a-are,” you insist, already fighting against his strong grip on you. At that, Caleb gulps—suddenly understanding what it is you’re trying to do. 

Honestly, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough. To resist the temptation of what he’s been fantasizing about for years, especially when it was right there. Grinding against him. 

But his hands have a mind of their own and he guides your hips in a slow and tortuous roll against him, his cock sitting between your warm lips, fitting against you like a damn puzzle.  

“C-Caleb…” you choke, your vision going white at the delicious friction between your bodies. You hold onto his shoulders while your back arches, your rhythm growing frantic against him. 

Caleb moans your name, the sound broken and beautiful on his tongue, “J-Jesus—harder. Princess, please.”

You whimper, quite literally bouncing on his lap now. With every movement, you make sure your clit gets to feel the throbbing veins along his thick length. Caleb looks up at you, glassy-eyed and staring at you with a swirl of conflict, adoration, and hunger. 

“F-Feels so good,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as you imagine how he’d feel inside you. 

Caleb’s fingers dig painfully into your hips as he imagines what would happen if he shifted, just slightly, he could slip right into you. Feel your wet warm tight walls around where he needed you most. 

No. He promised you you’d take things slowly. He couldn’t do that.

A fresh wave of guilt washes over him as he tries to push away those desires. The quickly dwindling rational part of his brain speaks for him and he stutters, “M-Maybe we should stop now. Before I—” 

You whine at the thought of stopping, never quite having felt a pleasure like this before, “Caleb—please. N-Not yet.”

You watch Caleb fighting with himself internally, the turmoil written all over his face. Feeling cheeky, you pull out your favorite and most effective weapon. 

“Please, Gege?” you murmur into his ear, still riding against him—effectively giving him his first pussyjob. 

Caleb stiffens under you, his breathing quickening at your words, “Fuck—you’re such a spoiled brat.” You grin and kiss his jaw teasingly. 

Whenever you called him that, it unraveled him. And you knew that. 

He starts to rock you against his lap again. He curses himself for not being able to say no to you, for still being so weak to you, especially when you called him that. But deep down, he doesn’t want to stop. He never wants to stop. 

With every millisecond that passes like this, Caleb’s self-control wavers until it dwindles to the point of no return. 

“Just a little bit mnngh—more then.”

You nod vigorously, agreeing urgently. He watches you, stars in his eyes, one hand reaching to grip the back of your skull and gently tug on your hair, “You’re killing me.”

As your movements grow sloppier and more desperate, the thick head of his cock begins to catch along your movements. The sticky arousal smears against your thighs and abdomen, the lewd sounds making your head spin. 

Caleb is mesmerized, watching you ride his lap. It gets increasingly more intense, the movements becoming more and more dangerous. Every roll comes impossibly close to penetrating, his tip getting caught at your entrance with every thrust. 

He could swear you were torturing him on purpose. He couldn’t take much more of this. Not if he wanted to keep from lifting you and slamming you down onto his cock right then and there. 

Fuck—no. I can’t. We promised. Slow. 

He holds your hips firmly, but is unable to force himself to stop you completely. In fact, it felt like pulling teeth forcing his words out, “No more princess. If we keep going, I can’t guarantee…”

You bite your lip at the clear warning in his words—conflicted with yourself. The idea of stopping now…it physically pained you. 

“We shouldn’t,” you whisper, your words contradicting your actions as you purposely drag his engorged head against your entrance, so close to slipping right in. 

You were the one who wanted to wait. Why couldn’t you stop? 

“We shouldn’t,” he parrots, wrapping his thick arms around your back. His hips are moving against your thighs now, thrusting himself between your dripping lips—acutely aware how close he was to penetrating. He could literally angle one degree…and he’d be right inside you. That thought actively haunted him.

You’d whittled his restraint down until there was none left. And now, the roles were reversed. 

Now, he was begging. 

“I know we shouldn’t,” he murmurs into your shoulder, kissing your collar tenderly, “But fuck baby, I want to so badly.” 

It was doable when you were the one begging and Caleb was the one being level-headed and smart. But now?

This wasn’t good.

“I-I want more,” you admit breathlessly, “But…we said…” You trail off, honestly unsure what to even say. You wanted it and you were counting on Caleb to stop you. 

“Slow,” he finishes your words. But instead of stopping, he thrusts slowly, purposely missing and gliding up against your stomach, causing you to convulse against him. His strong hands guide your movements, muscles bulging as he works your body against his own. 

“Caleeeeb,” you whine, not convincing even yourself. You find yourself losing the fight against desire with every passing second, face contorted in pure pleasure as you both continue to rock into each other. 

“Just a little?” he whispers lowly, his voice quite literally dripping with temptation, “Couldn’t hurt, could it?” 

You hesitate, biting your lip and testing his words on your own tongue, “Just a little…?”

“Just a little, princess,” Caleb reaffirms, nudging you in the direction of pleasure. The guilt gnaws at him, knowing how much you trusted him and still trying to lure you into the wild. 

But he was too far gone. 

“I promise.”

Your reluctance fades and you nod slowly, feeling unbearably safe in his hold—drawn to his reassuring words like a moth to a flame, “O-Okay. Just…just a little. Just—” You nearly cringe as you say the words, but you’re too far gone.

“Just the tip, o-okay?

Caleb’s heart skips with a dark excitement, his cock twitching between your soft thighs at the mere thought of breaching your tight perfect body. 

He gently rolls you over until he’s hovering over you. Holding the base of his erection, he rubs it along your core until he finds your entrance, nearly being sucked in by sheer desire. You glistened beneath his intense gaze, your body practically beckoning him.

God, you were so fucking irresistable.

“Yeah, no more than that, Pips,” he reassures, using his cock head to toy with your entrance. He fully intends on sticking to that. 

But somewhere in the back of his mind…he knows that that might just be wishful thinking. 

A small part of him knows he should feel guilty, ashamed—knowing he should be the bigger person and stop this. But the look of desperation and arousal on your blushing face fuels his dark desires. 

She’s enjoying this. She wants this. 

Maybe he’s just seeing what he wants to see, but that’s all the justification he needs. His hand trembles with excitement as he begins to press into you, his jaw clenched so tight it begins to ache. 

“W-Wait, should we use a c-cond—” you start but whimper abruptly when you feel him starting to stretch you open.

“It’s just the tip, we don’t need it,” he reassures you, stroking your hair soothingly, “I’ll pull right out. Nothing will happen to you.”

He hardens further when you nod, so trusting and willing. 

God, he was going to hell.

“Just a little more…” he chants, almost as if reminding himself—cautioning himself. He watches as he disappears into your perfect glistening folds, your body trembling beautifully for him. 

You bury your face into his shoulder, biting down at the feeling of him slowly pushing in, thicker than you thought you could take. Eyes rolling back, your back arches deeply—like a bowstring being pulled back—when his thick head finally slips into you. 

“O-Oh—god—!” you pant as you struggle to accommodate even just this little of him. 

Caleb presses his lips into your forehead, his own voice low and shaky, “Shhh—just relax okay? Relax for me.”

You nod, your eyes squeezed shut with both overwhelm and bliss. He was stretching you so unbelievably wide, the sting already becoming addicting. 

A wave of primal satisfaction washes over him as it sinks in that he’s finally inside you, even if only partially. How many times has he dreamt about this moment, and every single time paled to reality. 

“Y-You’re so warm—so soft,” he growls, trying to keep himself in check. But you felt so unbelievably tight, gummy walls so damn perfect around just his tip. His mind kept wandering to what it’d feel like if he just…sank all the way in. 

No. He promised. 

You pull away from Caleb’s shoulder to look down between your bodies. His shaft glistens with a combination of your arousals, and sure enough—only the tip is hidden and buried inside you. 

Every muscle in Caleb’s body trembles with effort as he forces himself to stay impossibly still. For a brief moment, you both just gaze at the other’s pleasure clouded faces, everything else fading into the background. The moment feels suspended in time.

“Nnngh…feels so g-good Caleb,” you choke out, hips squirming uncontrollably. Caleb swears, using one hand to keep you in place, grip bruising your hip.

Caleb grits out your name, choked and pained, “Hah—shit. Princess please stop.”

“I-I can’t,” you whine, feeling your back arch all on its own, wanting more of him. Your body ached to feel complete.

Your wriggles cause more of him to slip into you. Caleb’s eyes squeeze shut, expletives spewing from his lips. But he makes absolutely no moves to withdraw.

“Christ please y-you’re—”

But he shuts up when your arching body pushes against him, his cock inadvertently sinking in deeper. 

Yeah, he was not surviving this. 

Though the both of you had initially agreed on “just the tip,” when Caleb looked down he realized that nearly half of his cock had disappeared inside you.

Nearly hypnotized by the sight, he can’t help but want more. Even though you were taking it slow. Even though he was inside you with no protection. 

“It’s…it’s already half way in, princess,” he whispers, his finger rubbing dizzyingly soothing circles into your thighs, “Fuck…please…let me just—”

“Caleb—nnngh…” you gasp when he slides in further, the friction against your sensitive walls making it hard to think straight. 

“Fuck—you’re sucking me in,” he groans, feeling himself inch closer and closer to you, “I can’t—m’sorry—”

He grips your head, fingers massaging the back of your head bringing you in for a kiss that consumes you whole. As you moan into his hungry lips, he sinks another inch into you. And then another. Another. Another. 

You’re unable to protest even if you wanted to, his tongue tangling with yours and occupying you entirely. 

He only pulls away when he’s fully seated in you, his eyes delirious with ecstasy. He fills you so incredibly full that you can hardly breath, never quite having anyone as well endowed as Caleb. He grabs you by your hips, panting raggedly.

“I couldn’t stop—f-fuck…I’m sorry,” he mumbles into your temple. You shake your head, squirming against his pelvis, chasing the friction you’d felt as he sank into you, inch by delicious inch. 

Your mind struggles to reconcile the overwhelming pleasure with your original hesitance, “I—It’s….It’s okay. You feel…s-so good.”

“Yeah? You feel fucking incredible,” he growls, not thrusting but grinding against your own wriggling hips. It makes rational thought nearly impossible. 

“You’re driving me insane, princess,” he says, almost cautioning you as your hips squirm tortuously against him. 

With his cock fully in you now, your mind is an absolute mess of desire and hesitation—and desire was definitely winning. But as you start moving more, Caleb holds you in place—a dangerous warning swirling in his eyes.

As much as he wanted more, he’d already taken things too far. And if you went any further, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And he’d never forgive himself if he hurt you. 

“No. Behave.”

You whine sulkily, trying to rut against him, unable to control yourself. The feeling of his cock sliding into your depths was seared into your brain and you wanted to feel it again. 

Caleb groans with frustration, holding on by a splintering thread, “I’m serious, baby. Any m-more and I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to stop.” 

“That I won’t fuck you, right here and now.”

The dark warning in his filthy warning only makes you want to push more. 

“J-Just one,” you beg, pouting, “Just once.”

“D-Don’t give me that face,” he growls desperately, “Damn it—you know I can’t—”

When he curses, you whisper, “Caleb, please. We don’t have to go all the way. Just one, just once—please.”

Caleb’s dick, buried deep inside you, twitches with excitement at your begging, “You’re killing me.” But from the way his hips tremble you can tell your words are quickly eating through his lingering resolve.

“I-I’m not wearing a condom,” he forces out, using the last bit of his restraint. 

That wouldn’t stop him, but it might stop you. 

“It’s jus’ one thrust,” you plead, “We don’t need one.”

Caleb’s pupils dilate in front of your eyes, his breathing growing increasingly erratic. How could you be this stupid—naive? Offering yourself up to him like this? Letting him do this, much less with no protection. Letting him feel you, bare and raw.

Didn’t you know he’d fucking devour you?

“Christ—okay just one. And then we stop.”

You nod eagerly, sitting up on your elbows so you can watch the space between your bodies. Slowly, wanting to savor the “single” thrust you’ve agreed on, Caleb pulls out, only his tip is inside your warmth. The sight is so damn filthy your toes curl. 

Your eyes roll back at the friction, “C-Caleb…please.”

At your strangled plea, Caleb thrusts back into you—a perfect mix of rough but sensual. It knocks the breath out of you, every nerve ending in your body seeming to pop with fireworks.

“Sh-Shit—Y-You’re so tight…” Caleb groans, sweating from the sheer amount of restraint it takes to not repeat that single action—over and over and over.

Forcing yourself to see clearly, your eyes widen when you see Caleb nearly hyperventilating above you. 

“Caleb?” 

Caleb looks straight into your eyes, his irises dark and dangerous. Gone was the soft sunset hues, replaced with a near-black indigo that stared back at you like predators would appraise its prey. Your eyes widen, skin tingling at the unfiltered animalistic energy in his eyes. 

“I-I…”

You gasp when you feel Caleb’s hips moving, withdrawing a torturous inch before thrusting shallowly back into you. 

“Nnnghn—w-wait,” you writhe with pleasure at the small motion, “Caleb, we said—”

“I know what we said,” Caleb groans, cutting you off, “I know we shouldn’t, but God—”

He thrusts shallowly again, actively losing himself to the feeling of your perfect body, dragging you down the abyss with him. 

“Caleb,” you gasp, “W-We shouldn’t…” Your words are unconvincing, even to yourself, as your legs tighten, pulling him closer.

“I-I don’t think I can stop. Please baby,” he begs, hating himself but asking nonetheless. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the inside of your thigh—almost as if trying to coax you into saying yes.

You bite your lip in contemplation. You wanted more of the pleasure he’d just given you, you really did. But you were scared. 

What if he didn’t want you after this?

You knew it was a ridiculous notion. But then again, you could be quite ridiculous. 

Caleb can see the turmoil written across your face, forcing himself to still his hips. 

“You trust me, right pip-squeak?” he whispers, thumb brushing against your lower lip. His gut twists as the words leave his lips, knowing he’s being unfair. Especially when you look up, eyes fluttering at him—wide-eyed and so damn trusting. That look makes Caleb’s consciousness stir with a vicious mix of guilt and desire.

“I-I do. Mmmngh—I…I trust you more than anything,” you gasp when Caleb stirs again, his pelvis brushing against your clit.

The look of ecstasy on your perfect features encourages him, pulling out again—just a few centimeters before thrusting back into you. You moan, toes curling against him, your legs wrapped around his back. 

He was making you feel good. That couldn’t possibly be a bad thing, could it?

“I’ll protect you,” he whispers, gently kissing your lips, “I always do.”

As he dips down to reach you, his hips shift—giving you more friction. He knew he should feel ashamed of himself—that he shouldn’t push you like this.

But how could he not when you felt like this?

“Please…don’t make me stop,” he pleads, eyes hooded with a vulnerability that Caleb never let show, least of all to you.

This wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just the heat of the moment—lust. He needed this connection with you. 

While you’d been insecure that Caleb might not want you anymore after this, Caleb felt insecure that you’d disappear at any moment—that he’d wake up and find himself trapped in the role of big brother again. 

He wasn’t sure that he deserved this. Deserved you. 

“Caleb…” you trail off, battling with yourself internally. But the white flag is within sight, your resolve absolutely shattered. 

And Caleb can tell. 

“I’ll take care of you,” he forces out, his voice husky and tender—gently giving you one last push, “You know that, right?”

You nod vigorously, getting lost in the moment once more—enchanted by the truth behind his silken words.

“Okay Caleb…I-I want…I want more.”

Caleb’s eyes widen fractionally before he devours you in an explosive kiss. He greedily swallows every beautiful little moan—you’re unable to contain them as Caleb starts to roll his hips. He starts slow, sensual, and intentional.

As he pulls away, he buries his face into your neck, “F-Fuck—thank you, princess.”

And he’s genuinely thankful, trying to ignore the feeling of guilt for—what feels like to him—taking advantage of your trust. But he truly can’t stop himself. His pelvis smacks your inner thighs as he gives you a powerful thrust, making you see stars. He scoops your smaller hands into his, raising them above your head and restraining them against the couch arm. 

“Gege will take care of you.”

You gasp at his filthy promises—using the same word you’d used against him moments ago. Your back arches off the couch as his pace quickens considerably. His charming words make you all but forget your reservations.

He made you feel so safe. How could this be wrong?

“I-It’ll be—ngghh—okay, right?” you babble, watching him with your arms restrained and your lower body pinned under his. You don’t say it, but you’re both thinking it. He hadn’t put on a condom.

Your tummy flutters at the thought. 

Caleb squeezes your thigh reassuringly, his head thrown back with a look of pure bliss, “Hah—of course, princess. I’d never let anything bad happen to you.” 

His hips pound against your legs now, the couch legs scratching against the hardwood floor. Filthy sounds echo around the living room—wet skin against skin, cries of ecstasy, whispered declarations of reassurances and love alike.  

Caleb grows increasingly more emotional as the pleasure and intensity climbs to new heights, unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

“I’m sorry,” he rambles, “I’m so sorry, baby. I couldn’t stop…I shouldn’t have—C-Christ—!”

“D-Don’t,” you plead, completely forgetting altogether why you’d held this off for weeks, “Mmmngh—please don’t stop.”

“God, and I thought you felt good earlier—” he cuts himself off with a pained growl.

You don’t know if Caleb is naturally gifted or experienced—all you know is he knows exactly what he’s doing. He seems to find all your sweetest spots as if he was following a map. 

But what’s more is the way he speaks to you, the way he caresses your thighs, the way he rubs your wrists as he restrains them. How safe he makes you feel, when just moments ago you were terrified of the consequences. 

Maybe you were naive to just let yourself be ensnared by his velvety words, but you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. 

It felt too good.

“Never letting you go,” he promises darkly, letting go of your wrists so he can hold your face in his fingers, “Not after this.”

You whine with satisfaction, chest heaving as his hips work tirelessly to send you over the edge and straight to heaven. You weren’t sure why you’d ever doubted him.

“Please don’t,” you plead whole-heartedly, holding his face in your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. Caleb looks surprised for a second, his face softening at your words. 

“Never,” he murmurs, “Need me to prove it?”

As you nod Caleb’s face darkens considerably, the excitement and arousal written all over his perfect features. Your body tingles violently, close to bursting. 

His hips begin to lose their rhythm as he thinks about what he wants to do to you. What he wants to show you. 

“Y-You trust me, right princess?” he asks again, breath short and desperate. When you nod, Caleb buries himself into your neck, breath so warm it makes you shiver.

Caleb groans when your trembles cause you to tighten around him, knowing he can’t hold back his orgasm much longer—not when you feel like heaven and sin wrapped around him. 

At your blind trust, whether he deserved it or not, Caleb is ready to fold. To give you all of him. And to take absolutely all of you. 

“Gonna mark you,” he declares darkly, his words dripping with warning and possession. Though he says it like it’s a choice that he’s making, it really isn’t. In reality, he couldn’t stop. Maybe not even if you asked. That thought terrifies him. 

“Mmmngh—!” you gasp, feeling close to finishing yourself, “I-Inside?”

You knew you shouldn’t let him. It’d already gone way farther than you’d intended. But the thought of it…

It was too fucking tempting to pass up.

Caleb chuckles, apparently able to read your conflict and desires easily, “F-Fuck…yeah. You like the sound of that, huh? You’re squeezing me so tight, princess.” 

The thought of being so wanted by him that he’d do everything he could to possess you. Carnal primal possession in every sense of the word. 

You’d never be able to go back, and he knew that. You knew that. 

And that’s what you wanted. 

You nod, hugging him to your chest—your legs trapping him. Caleb groans at how receptive you are—how willing you are to give yourself to him completely. 

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers into your ear, voice strained, “If anything happens, I’ll be there.” 

You’re about to speak but Caleb’s hand wriggles its way between your bodies to find your clit, rendering you absolutely speechless. His own moans fill your ear, the sounds of unrestrained pleasure sending you reeling into an earth-shattering orgasm. 

“Caaleb—!” you cry, hiccuping, “C-Cumming, o-oh God—!” 

Caleb curses as you cum, your body tightening like a vice. He wants to hold on—to make it last just a little longer, but you make it impossible for him. Especially as you cry out repeatedly for him, your smaller body trembling under his. 

“You’re mine.” 

That’s the last thing he’s able to say before he lets go, spilling everything he has inside of you—consequences and restraint be damned. 

His muscles quiver as the waves of his orgasm ravage his body, holding you impossibly close to him—not letting even a centimeter of space between you. His hips continue to rock into you, fucking his seed deeper into you, igniting your body from the inside out.

“F-Full,” you gasp with satisfaction, enjoying the feeling of being so completed by him. It was starting to sting, still gently thrusting in and out of you, but you can’t bear the thought of losing this connection. 

“I know, baby” he praises, gripping your thigh as he continues to unload into you—his cock still twitching as it paints your walls, “Y-You’re doing so good. Taking it all for me.” 

You nearly purr with satisfaction, unbelievably happy with the way he praises you as he connects with you in the most intimate and primal way possible.

As the intense tidal waves of pleasure recede back into the current, Caleb comes to his senses. He pulls away so he can look at you, wanting to see you.

“That was…” he trails off—dazed, absolutely lovestruck. He couldn’t even begin to put what he’d just experienced with you into words. 

He rolls onto his side, bringing you to his chest. He’s sure not to sever your connection, still savoring your warmth. Maybe he’d never leave. Maybe he could keep you here forever, well-fed and well—

He shakes himself out of his increasingly feral thoughts, pressing his nose into your hair and breathing in with a shaky breath—your scent always able to ground him. 

“You’ve ruined me.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes, still too breathless and fucked dumb to speak. Caleb chuckles, wiping the drool from the corner of your kiss bitten lips. Your smile makes his chest flutter, but he can’t help the resentment that starts to creep in.

“Are…” he trails off, Adam’s apple bobbing thickly as he continues, “Are you okay?” 

You can see the guilt in his sparkling amethyst eyes—the disbelief. That he’d let himself take things this far. That he hadn’t been able to control himself—like he was some horny deranged teenager and not the revered and disciplined Colonel he was supposed to be.

“No, I'll never be okay again. You’ve created a monster,” you trail your featherlight kisses across his chest to his shoulder. You’d never be able to get enough of this. Of him. 

Caleb chuckles warmly, kissing the top of your head with relief, “You’ve always been a little monster, you can’t blame that on me.”

You clench down on him in warning—eliciting a delicious groan from his puffy lips. It fuels you with confidence, making you want him all the more. 

“You should be scared,” you warn playfully. 

“Should I now, pip-squeak?” Caleb grins, enjoying your attitude. But as much as he adored your brattiness, what he loved more was putting you in your place.

He withdraws from the comfort of your tight walls, smiling smugly when you whine and writhe with dissatisfaction. Your fingers automatically find his shoulders and dig in, trying to stop him from leaving you, not ready to be without him yet. 

“Caleeeb,” you whine unhappily. His smile only widens. There was that look he loved so damn much. 

“What, baby?” he coos, condescending and teasing all at once.

When you don’t speak—just continuing to glare childishly at him, Caleb laughs, “Come on, use your words. You know Gege will give anything you want.”

“Oh I’ll use my words alright…” you grumble, unbelievably petulant, “To hurt you and your stupid feelings.”

Caleb throws his head back with amused laughter before leaning into your ear, “Come on, you can do it. Ask for it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you feign innocence.

Mischief glimmers in Caleb’s eyes, “Oh? But you were so cute earlier when you were begging for just the ti—”

You sit up abruptly and scramble to climb off the couch, your cheeks flushed and warm—absolutely mortified those words had ever come out of your mouth, “Nevermind. I’m good.”

But Caleb’s quicker, immediately wrapping his thick arms around your bare waist. His laugh rings in your ear as he buries his face into your hair and pulls your back flush with his chest. 

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he murmurs warmly into your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss there. You let yourself be pulled to him, feeling his cock pressed against your lower back—hardening again.

“You know I’ll give you much more than that.”

© aeyumicore 2025.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

A rescue mission. Some pilot got lost in the shallow parts of the Deepspace Tunnels when Wanderers attacked. Caleb had been first on scene, first to respond, first to risk everything to bring someone home.

Your breakfast sat forgotten as you watched him drag the injured pilot toward the medical team on television. Even bloodied and exhausted, he wore that faint smile on his lips—the same one that always played on his lips when you were kids, when he patched up your scraped knees and talked you through nightmares. Always calm. Always bright.

But the wrongness of it all settled heavy in your chest.

You'd been sitting here, eating yogurt with fruits and already dreading the stack of paperwork waiting for you at the Hunter's Association later, living your normal, ordinary, boring Tuesday morning—while he was out there, staring down death in the void. And you'd only found out because you happened to turn on the news.

The footage replayed. You watched it again and again, caught in some masochistic loop you couldn't break. Caleb's hands steady on his teammate, that tired but genuine smile you knew so well on his lips, while the blood on his temple caught the harsh lights from the rescue team, and something twisted in your chest—sharp and bitter, like swallowing glass.

He didn't tell you. Hadn't called.

The news moved on to other stories, other tragedies. But you stayed frozen at your kitchen table, staring at the empty screen.

When had everything changed? When had you stopped telling each other everything? You used to be his first person he'd call when something happened. And he was yours. But now you'd learn about important things the same way as everyone else in the city. 

Like some stranger.

Your phone buzzed against the table.

Gideon: caleb's probably gonna kill me for this but there's a celebration thing for him soon. for the rescue. you heard about it right? it's all over the news

Gideon: he wants to be all humble about it but i know he'd love if you were there

Gideon: should i pick you up from the train station? make it a surprise?

You stared down at the messages.

Humble. Is that it? Was Caleb being humble, or was he just... not telling you? There was a difference, wasn't there? A big fucking difference between modesty and deliberately keeping you in the dark.

You could picture it—Caleb brushing off congratulations, downplaying what he'd done like he always did. "Just doing my job," he'd say with that slight shrug, the one that made people love him even more. But this wasn't about false modesty. This was about you finding out from the morning news that the person you cared about most had nearly died.

And wasn't that rich? Caleb, who worried about everything when it came to you. Caleb, who called if you were five minutes late from work because "what if something happened?" Caleb, who made you text him when you got home safe, even from a short walk to the corner store. Caleb, who once drove three hours in the middle of the night because you'd mentioned feeling sick in a text and he "wanted to make sure you were okay."

That same Caleb could apparently face down Wanderers in the depths of space, bleed from his fucking temple, risk his life pulling someone else to safety—and not think you deserved to know about it. Not think you'd want to worry about him the same way he always worried about you.

It stung. How many times had he made you promise to tell him everything? Every mission briefing, every late night at the office, every time you so much as stubbed your toe. But when it came to him nearly dying? Radio silence.

Like your worry didn't matter. Like you didn't matter enough to include in the aftermath of something that could have killed him.

Your fingers hovered over your phone. Part of you wanted to type back immediately—yes, pick me up, I'll be there. But another part, the part that was still stinging from being left out, wanted to ask why Caleb hadn't invited you himself. Why it took Gideon texting behind his back for you to even know there was something to celebrate.

Your fingers moved before you could overthink it.

You: when's the celebration?

Gideon: friday night. 7pm at the airbase on skyhaven

Gideon: should i pick you up?

You stared at the messages, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Friday night. Less than seventy-two hours to decide if you were going to show up and pretend everything was fine, or stay home and let the silence stretch between you and Caleb until it became something you couldn't cross.

You: yeah. can you pick me up at 6?

Gideon: sure thing! he's gonna be so happy to see you

You shoved your phone into your bag and grabbed your hunter's jacket from the back of the chair.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The train to Skyhaven felt longer than usual, every kilometer stretching endlessly as you stared out the window at the clouds below. Your stomach twisted with nerves you couldn't quite name—part anticipation, maybe longing, mostly dread.

When the train finally pulled into the station, you spotted Gideon right away. He was leaning against a pillar, scrolling through his phone, dark hair falling messily across his forehead. The moment he saw you, his face lit up.

"Holy shit, did you grow again?" he called out, pushing off the pillar with that bright grin of his.

"I'm the same height I've been for the past five years."

"Nah, definitely taller." He pulled you in one of those crushing hugs that reminded you why you'd always thought of him as more of a big brother than Caleb's best friend. "It's good to see you again. It's been way too long."

You melted into the hug, breathing in the familiar scent of DAA pilots, who always smelled a bit like fuel and whatever surprisingly fancy soap they used at the dorms. 

For a moment, it felt like old times—like that weekend you'd visited them during pilot training, when the three of you snuck off to watch the sunset from the riverbank, feet dangling over the edge, passing around lukewarm cider in the fading light and laughing until your sides ached. Back when everything was simple, before everything got complicated, before Caleb started keeping secrets.

"You look good," Gideon said, stepping back to get a proper look at you. "Tired, but good. Work keeping you busy?"

"When isn't it?" You tugged at your simple outfit. "Is this okay for tonight? I wasn't sure what to wear to a celebration at an airbase."

"You look perfect." His expression softened. "He's going to lose his mind when he sees you."

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. "He didn't… he didn't tell me."

Gideon's face changed immediately. He'd always been able to read you too well. "Ah. Yeah, he didn't want to bother you. You know how he gets—worries about you so much he forgets his own mind."

"Still, it's…"

"Hey." He grabbed your shoulders gently, making you look at him. "Listen to me. You're the most important person in his life. That idiot's been sulking for weeks because he misses you. He's overprotective to a fault, but he really cares about you, okay?"

Something in his voice made the tight feeling in your chest ease up a little. Gideon had never been one to sugarcoat things, especially not when it came to Caleb.

"He really is an idiot."

"The biggest." Gideon's grin returned as he slung an arm around your shoulders, steering you toward the exit. "Come on, let's go surprise our hero."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Walking into the DAA airbase felt like stepping back in time. Nothing had changed—same oil stained floors, same pilot portraits lining the walls, same faint smell of fuel and metal that somehow seep into every corner of the airbase.

You'd walked these halls countless times growing up, trailing behind Caleb and Gideon when they were still cadets, sneaking into places you definitely weren't supposed to be. It felt a bit like home in a strange way.

"Is that—oh my God, it is!"

You turned to see Lieutenant Chen from the communications department, weighed down by so many insignia it was a wonder her uniform held together.

"We had no idea you were coming!"

"Surprise," you said awkradly, suddenly aware of all the eyes turning your way.

"Caleb's gonna absolutely lose it." Chen smiled. "He never shuts up about you. We've been wondering when you'd visit again."

More faces you recognized started appearing as you walked down the hall. Captain Morrison from tactical planning, who remembered you from the academy's family days. Sergeant Liu, who'd once caught you and Caleb trying to sneak into the flight simulators and had pretended not to see you.

But also not familiar faces smiled when they saw you. It was almost a little unsettling how everyone here knew who you were, even if you didn't know them.

"The famous childhood friend," someone said with a smile.

"She's prettier than in the photos," another voice added.

Gideon squeezed your shoulder. "Told you he talks about you. Pretty sure half this place knows your name."

It should have made you happy. Should have been sweet, knowing that even when he was here, surrounded by his colleagues and his other life, you were still on his mind. That he spoke about you enough that people recognized you on sight, that your name was familiar in rooms you'd never entered.

But instead, it just made the confusion worse. Because how could you be important enough to mention in casual conversation, important enough for wallet photos and desktop frames, but not important enough pick up the phone when he almost died? 

"Where is he?" you asked.

"Probably in the dorms, working off his nervous energy," Gideon replied. "You know how he gets before big events."

You followed him through the dorms, past rows of identical doors until Gideon stopped at one marked with a familiar call sign.

"Here we go," he whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. "Let me just—"

But before he could knock, you heard grunting sounds from inside. Your mind immediately went somewhere it shouldn't, and heat flooded your face. Was he—? 

You were about to grab Gideon's arm when he pushed the door open. And to your relief, it wasn't what you'd thought.

Caleb was hanging upside down from the top bunk, feet hooked over the bed frame as he did hanging sit-ups. His shirt had slipped down, revealing his abs as they contracted with each rep. Sweat gleamed on his skin, and his dark hair hung in damp strands toward the floor.

"Caleb," Gideon called out.

Caleb crunched up—or down, given his position—his hands behind his head, and the moment his eyes met yours, his face went completely scarlet.

 "What—how—" 

His concentration faltered, and suddenly he was falling, tumbling off the bunk in a tangle of limbs and hitting the floor with a loud thud.

"Caleb!" You rushed forward, dropping to your knees beside him. "Are you okay? Did you hit your head?"

He lay there on his back for a moment, staring up at you in complete shock, legs still tangled with the bed frame.

"What? Why are you here?”

He slowly pushed himself up to sitting, his eyes never leaving your face like he couldn't quite believe you were real.

"That's one way to greet me. Should I be worried you don't want me here?"

Without hesitation, he reached for you, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer until you were almost in his lap on the narrow floor between the bunks.

"Silly girl. Of course I want you here." One arm wrapped around your back while the other cradled your head, pulling you close against his neck. "How did you—when did you—"

"Gideon," you said. "He helped with the surprise."

Caleb's eyes flicked to Gideon, who stood in the doorway with a crooked smile, before returning to you. He was still warm from his workout, smelling faintly of soap and sweat and something else you could never name—but always recognized. 

Just him. Just home.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered against your ear, arms tightening around you.

"I missed you too." Your fingers found the soft fabric of his shirt, then brushed against the apple pendant he wore—always wore. "I saw what happened on the news. I was so scared, and then so proud, and I just... I needed to see you."

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, those violet ones you knew so well catching the light filtering between the beds. His face was so close, breath warm against your lips. It would only take a breath to close the distance.

"I'm so glad you're here."

And somehow that stung. It always did—this easy intimacy, this magnetic pull that made the rest of the world fade away. He could hold you like you were the most precious thing in his world, speak to you in that voice reserved only for you—and then turn around and shut you out completely when it actually mattered.

Gideon cleared his throat. "Alright, you two. As sweet as this is, maybe Caleb should find a real shirt before someone walks by and gets the wrong idea."

Caleb glanced down at himself, seeming to remember his state of undress, and his cheeks flushed red again as he quickly tugged his sleeveless shirt down.

"We've got a few hours before the party starts," he said, standing and pulling you up with him. His hands lingered on yours, fingers intertwined. "Want to go flying? We could catch the sunset if we leave now."

"Am I even allowed to do that? This is a military base..."

Caleb grinned, that boyish smile you always loved so much. "With me? Absolutely. Perks of being the hero of the week." His expression went soft. "Besides, I've been wanting to show you something."

You hesitated. But there was something hopeful in his eyes, almost vulnerable, that pulled at something inside you. You remembered how he'd looked on the news earlier this week—bloodied, exhausted, but alive. How your heart had stopped thinking you might lose him. 

You agreed before you could overthink it.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Twenty minutes later, after Caleb's quick shower, you found yourself in the pilots' prep room staring at the flight suit he'd laid out for you. The suit was thick and technical, covered in zippers and patches you didn't know how or where to put on.

"It might be a little big," Caleb said, emerging from the locker area in his own suit, hair still damp, clinging in soft curls at his temples. "But it'll keep you safe up there."

You held up the suit, then hesitated. "Okay, so... how exactly does this work?"

"Here, let me help." He stepped in front of you, close enough that you could see the water droplets still clinging to his neck and count his eyelashes if you wanted to. "Arms first."

You slipped your arms through, his fingers guiding the fabric over your shoulders, adjusting the fit with light touches.

"Now the belt." His hands moved to your waist, threading the utility belt through the loops. You had to remind yourself how to breathe as he worked, standing so close that you felt his breath on you lips.

You really hadn't thought this through. Flying apparently involved a lot more... proximity than you'd expected. Maybe you should've said no.

"Almost done," he said, like he could read every thought on your face. When the belt was secure, he paused, hands still resting on your hips. His eyes traced over you—down to where the suit hugged your waist, then slowly back up to meet your gaze. Something shifted in his expression, and his grip on your hips tightened slightly.

Your knees went weak. Just from the way he was looking at you—like he was memorizing every detail, like you were something he wanted to unwrap slowly and take his time with. Heat pooled low in your stomach.

You hated how he always had this effect on you. How he could make you forget everything—your hurt, your anger, the fact that he'd kept you in the dark—with nothing but a look.

You tilted your head slightly. "Caleb?"

"Sorry." He blinked, shaking his head like he was coming back to himself. "Just need to..." He reached for the front zipper, his knuckles brushing your chest as he slowly, carefully pulled it up. Each inch seemed to take forever, and you hated how much you wanted it to last even longer.

"There," he whispered, hands smoothing over your shoulders. "Perfect fit. How does it feel?"

You looked down at yourself, aware of how close you were standing, of how his flight suit clung perfectly to his broad shoulders where yours hung loose.

"Good," you managed. "Feels good."

His hand came up to adjust your collar that was already perfectly straight, fingers brushing the heated skin of your neck.

"Is this standard procedure for all your passengers?"

"Only the special ones." His eyes dropped to your lips and stayed there, like he was considering something stupid. Something stupid you'd wanted him to consider.

"Caleb," you breathed, not even sure what you were asking for. Maybe for him to close the distance. Maybe for him to step away before you did something stupid.

His thumb traced along your jaw, so light you might have imagined it. "Yeah?"

Voices echoed from the hallway, breaking whatever spell had settled over the room. He stepped back immediately, hands dropping to his sides, but his eyes stayed locked on yours.

"Ready to fly?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice. With your lips still warm from the way he'd been staring at them, flying was definitely the last thing on your mind right now.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

You really should have said no. Because what the hell were you thinking, getting into a fighter jet? You stared at all the bewildering array of screens and buttons, not understanding a single thing.

Damn Caleb and his stupidly pretty eyes of his. You could never say no to him.

He leaned over your shoulder from behind, reaching around to point at different instruments. His helmet brushed yours as he talked, voice coming through the headset.

"Okay, so this is your primary flight display," he said, finger tracing across a screen. "Shows altitude, airspeed, heading. And this controls your oxygen flow—"

"Caleb," you cut him off with a nervous laugh, "why are you telling me all this? I'm not flying this thing."

"What if I have a heart attack up there? You'd have to take over."

"Please don't joke about that. I can barely parallel park, and you want me to land a fighter jet?"

"It's easier than it looks." He reached across to flip a switch, his arm brushing against yours. "Besides, you've got good instincts. I've seen how you think under pressure."

"Quick thinking and flying are completely different things.”

"Are they?" His laugh rumbled over the comms as he flipped a few more switches. "Both need you to stay calm, think fast..."

Suddenly, the engines roared to life, vibrations running through your entire body. Your stomach dropped as the reality hit—you were actually doing this.

"Don't worry. I have every intention of staying alive," he added, his hand coming up to steady your helmet. "Besides, I can't leave you alone up here. How else would I get to see how cute you look when you're terrified?"

"I'm not terrified."

"Sure you're not." He glanced down at where your knuckles were white from gripping the seatbelt. A smug smile spread across his face. You wanted to punch him. "That's why you're holding on like the plane's about to fall apart."

"I hate you."

He ignored your comment. His hands moved to your harness next, checking each strap. You felt his fingers brush against your shoulders and chest as he tightened the restraints.

"Snug enough?" he asked, giving the straps a tug.

"I think I'm more secure than the aircraft itself," you replied, testing how much you could move. Which was basically not at all.

"Good. Ready to fly?"

"Absolutely not."

"Too late now." He moved to settle into the pilot's seat in front of you. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you up there."

"Just promise me," you called over the growing engine noise, "if you do have some kind of medical emergency, can you at least wait until we're back on the ground?"

His laugh crackled through the comms. "Deal." More switches flipped and the engines roared louder. "Now hold on and visor down."

You found the mechanism on your helmet, and the tinted shield clicked into place, casting everything in a greenish hue.

"Tower, this is Apple-7 requesting clearance for takeoff," his voice came through the comm system, suddenly serious and stern.

"Apple-7, you are cleared for runway 2-7. Wind at 2-1-0 degrees, 8 knots."

"Copy that, tower. Apple-7 rolling."

And then the jet lurched forward.

Oh shit.

This was really happening. You were actually doing this, and you were a complete idiot for agreeing to it. What kind of sane person just casually gets into a fighter jet? Normal people took trains. Normal people stayed on the ground where they belonged.

The engines roared even louder, and suddenly you were moving. Fast. Really, really fast. The runway blurred past in streaks of white and gray, and you gripped your harness so hard you thought you might break your knuckles. Pretty sure you were about to meet your end just because you couldn't resist some pretty violet eyes.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," you said, probably straight into the comms that anyone could hear, but you were past caring.

"You okay back there?"

"No. Definitely not. Why did I say yes to this?"

The nose tilted up, and suddenly you were pressed back into your seat like a giant, invisible hand was shoving you down. The force was insane—your whole body felt heavy, pinned against the seat as the jet climbed. Your stomach dropped straight through the floor while the rest of you felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the ground disappeared beneath you, that weightless feeling making you want to throw up.

Why the hell had you said yes this time?

Caleb had asked before. Multiple times, actually. "Come flying with me," he'd say, eyes bright with the adrenaline that always courses through pilots after a flight. "I want to show you what it's like up there." And you'd always brushed him off with some excuse—too busy, too tired, maybe next time. 

Flying seemed like his thing, not yours. You were perfectly happy with your feet on solid ground, thank you very much.

You'd never really thought about why you kept saying no. It just seemed... unnecessary. Dangerous. Something that belonged to the part of his life that didn't include you—the military side, the pilot side, the side that took him away from home for weeks at a time.

But now, strapped into a fighter jet and climbing toward the clouds at a speed that defied all logic, you couldn't figure out what had changed. What had made you finally say yes when he'd asked with that hopeful look in his eyes? Was it the way he'd seemed so excited to share this with you? The fact that he'd almost died and you'd realized how much you'd been holding back? Or were you just losing your mind?

Probably the last one.

"Breathe." Caleb's voice. "I've got you."

"This was such a terrible idea," you managed, eyes still clamped shut. "I'm going to die because I can't say no to you."

"You're not going to die. I'm a pretty good pilot."

"That's exactly what someone says right before they crash."

He laughed. "Open your eyes."

"Not happening."

"Come on. Trust me."

"I trusted you enough to get in this death trap. That's all the trust you're getting today."

"Hey." His voice went gentle. "Remember when we were kids and you'd get scared during thunderstorms? I'd always stay with you until they passed."

"That's not the same."

"I'm still here. Still got you." A pause. "Open your eyes for me."

Damn him. Damn him and that stupid, soft voice of his and the way he could make you feel safe even when you were hurtling through the air in a metal coffin.

You cracked one eye open, then both, and your breath caught in your throat at what you saw.

A dreamlike landscape stretched out below you. Fields and forests and winding roads, all bathed in golden evening light. In the distance, the sun was sinking towards the horizon, painting the sky in watercolours of pink and orange, bleeding together like spilled paint.

And there was Skyhaven, floating in the distance like something from a fairy tale. Its artificial island hung suspended in the twilight, lights already twinkling as evening settled in. From up here, you could see everything, the tall buildings, the landing platforms and the anti-gravity trains that looked like silver threads connecting it to the mainland.

You flew over the DAA airbase, which looked suddenly tiny and orderly from this height. You could make out the runways in perfect geometric patterns, hangars lined up like building blocks, the control tower standing watch over it all.

"Holy shit," you breathed.

"Language, pipsqueak."

"Holy shit, Caleb. This is..."

"Pretty amazing, right?"

You stared out at the endless sky, at clouds that looked like cotton from up here, at how perfect and small everything looked below. Your death grip on the seat loosened a little.

"Yeah," you whispered. "It's beautiful."

"Want to see more? We've still got time before we need to head back."

Caleb steered the jet gently to the left, and a few seconds later, you were flying over mountains that looked like the spines of a sleeping dragon, their snow laced peaks catching the last of the sun.

"Those are the Taishan Mountains," he said. "See that lake down there?"

You followed his direction and spotted it—a perfect mirror of water nestled between the hills, reflecting the sunset like liquid fire.

"It looks incredible," you breathed, pressing your face closer to the canopy. "I had no idea it looked like this from up here."

He guided the jet in circles around the lake, giving you the full view. "This is my favorite part of flying. Seeing the world like this." His voice went softer. "I've wanted to show you this for so long."

Mountains rolled beneath you in waves of green and amber, dotted with tiny villages that clung to the slopes. A river wound through the valley below, silver in the twilight.

"There—see that waterfall?" Caleb pointed toward a white ribbon of water cascading down the mountainside, each level catching the dying light before disappearing into the mist below. "And that one over there—" He tilted the jet slightly to one side so you could see another cascade, this one wider, spreading like a bridal veil across dark stone.

"They're amazing, Caleb," you said, watching the water dance in the fading light.

"I knew you'd love them. I've been wanting to bring you up here since I first flew this route. Every time I pass over, I think about how much you'd love seeing this." A pause. "When things calm down, when we're not so busy with work... I want to take you hiking up there. Show you those falls up close."

You smiled. "I'd like that."

The jet drifted through wisps of cloud that parted softly around the canopy, and for a moment, you felt weightless, suspended between earth and sky, while the world below seemed to stretch endlessly.

A flock of birds flew far below, tiny dots moving across the green landscape. Everything looked so peaceful from up here, so perfectly arranged, like someone had painted the world and hung it beneath the clouds just for pilots to see.

"You really love this." It wasn't a question. "Flying, I mean. I finally get it."

"Took you long enough."

"I always knew you loved it. I just... never understood the why until now."

"And now?"

You gazed out at the endless sky, at how calm everything looked from up here. "Now I think I might love it too."

"Good," he said, and you could hear him grinning. "So... want to test some speed?"

"What kind of speed?"

"Nothing crazy. Just a little taste of what she can really do."

"I don't know, Caleb. This is perfect as it is—"

"Hold on tight."

"Wait, what—"

The world exploded into motion.

The jet shot forward like a bullet fired from a gun, the landscape below blurring into streaks of color. Your body slammed back into the seat with crushing force—you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only grip your harness as everything became pure speed and sound and the absolute certainty that you were about to die.

"Caleb!"

"Just breathe!" His voice came through the comms, way too calm for someone currently trying to kill you both. "Let it happen!"

Within seconds, the fear melted away, replaced by an electric thrill that surged through you. You were flying—really flying—slicing through the sky like something loosed from gravity itself.

"Oh my God!" you shouted, but now you were laughing. "This is insane!"

"Amazing, right?"

"Don't you dare slow down!"

His delighted laugh filled your headset. "I knew you'd love it."

Clouds blurred past in a rush of speed so unreal it stole your breath, and for the first time in months, maybe years, you felt impossibly alive. You never wanted it to stop.

"Hey," Caleb said after a while of flying, way too casual. "You do remember how to pull up, right?"

"What? Why would I need to—"

"Just in case."

A soft click echoed through the comms.

The nose dipped.

Your stomach dropped as realization hit. 

"Caleb?"

The aircraft kept descending, the horizon tilting dangerously.

"Caleb!"

Without thinking, your hands flew to the controls, yanking back on the stick. The jet responded immediately, nose lifting as you overcompensated. Your stomach lurched violently with the sudden change in altitude before finally finding level flight again. 

"Take over!" you screamed, heart pounding against your ribs. "What the hell are you doing?!"

His laughter crackled through the headset. "Relax. I've got backup controls the whole time. You were never actually in danger." He paused, clearly grinning. "God, I wish I could see your face right now. I bet your face is all scrunched up."

"I'm having a heart attack!"

"You're doing fine. Keep your hands on the controls. I'm handling everything else. Feel how responsive she is?"

Despite yourself, you were starting to enjoy it. Every tiny movement you made with the stick and the whole aircraft would shift—left, right, up, down—and you finally understood what Caleb meant about dancing with the sky. In a way, it felt like dancing, but with gravity and wind and thousands of pounds of metal that somehow felt weightless under your command. 

"This is terrifying."

"This is flying. And you're a natural."

And the longer you held the controls, the more confident you became. It was almost intoxicating, having this much power literally at your fingertips.

"This is actually incredible," you breathed, making a gentle turn.

"See? Told you."

Then you spotted the throttle. Your hand moved before you could think, pushing it forward. The jet surged ahead, speed shooting pure electricity through your veins.

"Oh, this feels amazing!" You pushed it further.

The world blurred below as you picked up speed. You felt powerful. Alive. Like you could conquer the entire sky.

"Okay, that's... probably fast enough," Caleb said.

But you were drunk on it now. You pushed the throttle more.

"Seriously, maybe we should slow down—"

"Just a little more!"

"No, no, no. Fun's over." You felt him take back control, gradually bringing the aircraft down to a safer speed. "You're absolutely insane. Remind me to never let you near a motorcycle."

"That was the best thing I've ever done," you laughed, breathless and light headed. "Can we do it again?"

"Absolutely not. I love you, but—"

He stopped, and your heart skipped a beat.

Did he just…?

He did.

And he said it so natural, so easy, so seamlessly woven into the fabric of who he was that he'd forgotten it was supposed to be a secret.

But you knew what would come next. You'd been there before, knew every version of his backtracking, his deflection, of his careful rewording that would drain all the meaning from what he'd just said until it became something safe and meaningless.

It had been this way since you were teenagers, the pattern so familiar you could predict his next words before he said them. In a way, you'd gotten used to it. But knowing it was coming didn't make it hurt any less. If anything, the predictability made it worse.

Silence stretched.

"I mean—" he started, voice tight. "What I meant was—"

Suddenly, Gideon's voice crackled through the comm system. 

"Apple-7, this is base. You two lovebirds need to head back. Party started early—apparently someone couldn't wait to celebrate our hero."

"Copy that, base," Caleb responded after a pause, his voice controlled again. "Apple-7 returning to base."

As he banked towards home, all the playful energy drained away. Something heavier settled between you, the weight of words said and unsaid, of feelings that existed in the space between friendship and whatever this was.

"ETA fifteen minutes," he added quietly. But you weren't listening anymore.

When Caleb brought the jet down onto the runway at the airbase, you felt sick. Whether from the flight or his confession, you couldn't tell.

"You hungry?" His voice came through the headset as you taxied toward the hangar. "Martinez has been going on about the catering all week. I bet they've prepared lots of food."

You stared at the back of his head, feeling your frustration rise like a tide. You hated how he always backed off so quickly whenever things got too real, like he'd burned himself on the truth. Always leaving you to wonder if you'd imagined the weight in his voice, if those three words had meant anything at all or if he'd said them to anyone who'd listen.

"Yeah. I'm starving."

You could feel him wince at your tone.

"Wait until you try the barbecue," he continued anyway, forcing cheerfulness into his voice. "Base cook actually knows what he's doing for once."

The canopy opened with a soft hiss. Back to reality, where Caleb would pretend his heart hadn't been in his throat when he'd said those words, and you'd pretend you weren't exhausted from constantly dancing around whatever this was between you.

He'd said he loved you. Actually said it. And now he was talking about barbecue like it never happened, like you were just friends and always be just friends, like you were supposed to smile and nod and pretend your chest wasn't caving in from the weight of loving someone who could say everything and nothing in the same breath.

Before you could argue with him or he could apologize or you could both just sit in the wreckage of another almost moment, Gideon appeared beside the aircraft.

"There you are!" He grabbed both your arms before you'd even fully climbed out. "Come on, they're waiting for the guest of honor."

"Wait, we should change—" you started, but Gideon was already dragging you toward the main hangar where music and laughter spilled into the evening air.

Caleb unzipped his flight suit as you walked, letting it hang around his waist and tying the sleeves around his hips. Sweat darkened the fabric of his shirt, outlining the muscles in his chest and shoulders in a way that really didn't help your current frustration with him.

You did the same, unzipping your own suit and tying it around your waist. Not exactly the prettiest outfit for a celebration—but thankfully, no one else seemed to care about fancy clothes either. At least now you could breathe in the warm evening air.

You'd never seen the hangar look anything like this. String lights crisscrossed the ceiling, tables lined the walls loaded with food, and what looked like half the airbase was crowded inside with drinks, laughing and talking.

A cheer went up the second people spotted Caleb. Suddenly you were swept into congratulations and backslapping. Someone pressed a beer into your hand while others recounted the heroic rescue you'd only heard about on the news.

"Speech! Speech!" someone shouted, and the entire crowd picked up the chant.

Caleb got pushed towards the center of the crowed, looking genuinely uncomfortable. He held up his hands for quiet.

"I, uh..." He stopped, running a hand through his hair. "I'm really not good at this." 

Everyone laughed affectionately.

So humble. Of course everyone loved him.

You watched him fumble through his discomfort. Even now, with everyone celebrating him, he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. The same way he'd rather deflect than deal with what had just happened between you up there.

"Look," he continued, finding his voice, "what happened out there wasn't heroic. I was just doing my job. Any of you would've done the same thing."

More affectionate protests from the crowd. Someone yelled, "That's our Caleb!"

"It was a team effort. We all did what we were trained for." He paused, scanning the crowd until his eyes found yours. "But what really drives us, what makes us willing to risk everything, is knowing we have something worth coming home to."

Beside you, Gideon nudged your ribs, grinning like he'd won a bet. But instead of something warm, all you felt was irritation.

Of course. Of course he'd say something like that—something that could mean everything or nothing, something that let him dance around the truth while giving himself an out if anyone pressed him on it. Something worth coming home to. It could mean you, it could mean his whole found family here, or it could mean his favorite mechanic for all the specificity he was giving.

You took a long pull of your beer, jaw tight, as the crowd cheered his carefully noncommittal words.

When he finished his speech, you turned away before his gaze could find yours and headed for the bar. Maybe it was frustration, maybe adrenaline crash, or maybe you just needed something to numb whatever game you and Caleb kept playing with each other's hearts.

You stopped counting drinks after the third one. You'd come here to celebrate him, to be proud of him, but all you could think about was how stupid you'd been to hope for something real. 

Luckily, Gideon was just as drunk as you and completely oblivious to your mood.

"Another round!" 

He appeared beside you with two fresh beers and a grin that said he was already several drinks ahead of you. His cheeks were flushed, eyes bright.

You took the beer and clinked it against his, laughing at something funny he'd said that you were already forgetting.

"Maybe you should slow down a little."

A hand suddenly reached for your beer.

Caleb.

You pulled it away from his grasp, giving him a look that could've cut glass. "We're here to celebrate, right? Isn't that what you said? Something to come home to and all that?"

His eyes narrowed at your tone, violet turning darker, but before he could respond, Gideon threw an arm around both your shoulders.

"Exactly! Tonight we celebrate our hero!" he slurred, pulling you both closer. "And his beautiful—"

"Friend," you cut in flatly, taking another drink. You stared straight at Caleb as you said it, watching the word land heavy.

The music shifted to something upbeat, and Gideon dragged you towards the dance floor before either of you could say anything else.

He spun you around, both of you laughing as you nearly collided into other people. The alcohol had loosened you up, and for the first time all night, you actually felt carefree.

"You're awful at this," you laughed as Gideon stepped on your foot again.

"Hey, I'm a pilot, not a dancer," he protested, catching you when you stumbled slightly and keeping a steady hand on your waist.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Caleb still at the bar, those violet eyes locked on Gideon's hand at your waist. His knuckles were white around his beer bottle.

You knew this wasn't fair. It wasn't like you—getting drunk, making a scene, using poor Gideon in whatever messed up thing you and Caleb had going on. But you were so tired of it all. Tired of the mixed signals, the distance, the way he could say he loved you at ten thousand feet then stand in front of everyone and talk about you like you were just another face in the crowd.

You were done being careful. Done protecting his feelings while he stepped all over yours. When Gideon's hand moved to guide you through another spin, you didn't pull away. Instead, you leaned closer, letting your arms wrap around his neck as he swayed with you. You rested your head on his shoulder, eyes closing, knowing exactly who was watching.

If Caleb wanted to keep you at arm's length, he could watch someone else hold you close.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Hours slipped by in a haze of music, laughter, and terrible dance moves. Considerably, the crowd had thinned out, leaving only a few dedicated party people and those too drunk to find way back to their quarters. You fell squarely into the second category.

"Alright," Caleb's voice cut through your alcohol fueled fun as he appeared beside you and Gideon at the bar sometime deep into the night—or possibly early morning. "I think it's time to call it a night."

"What? No!" You swayed as you turned to face him. "Party's just getting started. Right, Gideon?"

But when you looked around, Gideon had somehow vanished. When you turned back to Caleb, you understood why.

He was angry.

"Come on. You've had enough."

"I'm fine," you insisted, though the way the room tilted when you moved suggested otherwise. "We're celebrating! You said it yourself—something to come home to, right? Well, your precious something is celebrating."

A muscle jumped in his jaw and then he was moving. He scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

"Caleb! Put me down! What are you doing?"

"You think I'll let you do whatever you want?"

You kept protesting as he carried you across the hanger, but his grip was iron. Other drunk stragglers whistled and made comments as you passed, which only made your face burn hotter.

He finally stopped at his room in the dormitory and fumbled with his keycard while still holding you. Once inside, he set you down and locked the door behind you both.

You stumbled as your feet hit the floor, the room spinning enough to make you grab his desk for support. 

"What the hell, Caleb?"

He was standing between you and the door, arms crossed, looking more serious than you'd ever seen him.

"What was your mission tonight? Were you trying to irritate me?"

You leaned back against his desk, crossing your arms to match his stance. The alcohol was still making your head swim, but his tone was sobering you up fast.

"Don't be so dramatic. It's a party. You're the hero, saved lives and all that, remember?"

"Is that why you were all over Gideon?"

A bitter laugh slipped out. "Like you care."

"I don't care?"

"No, you don't!" You pushed off from the desk, anger making you bold. "You don't get to care! Not when you do this—say things like that, tell me you love me, act all possessive, then pull away like it never happened!" Your voice got louder, years of frustration finally breaking free. "It's fucking exhausting, Caleb! I never know what you actually feel because you won't just—"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No! It's not obvious! Nothing about you is obvious!" You gestured wildly, the alcohol making you unsteady. "You're like a puzzle with half the pieces missing, and I'm tired of trying to figure you out."

He stepped closer. "You want to know what I feel?"

"Yes," you breathed, suddenly aware of how small his room was, how close he was getting.

Another step. "You want me to be obvious? Aggressive? Want me to press you against this desk and make it impossible to misunderstand how I feel?"

Your back hit the desk as he kept coming. "Caleb," you whispered, but it sounded more like a plea than a warning.

He braced his hands on either side of you, palms flat against the desk, caging you in. His body was close enough that you could feel his heat, could count the golden flecks in his eyes.

"Tell me what you want from me." His voice barely a whisper, his face inches from yours. "You want me to kiss you? Touch you?" He tilted his head. "...Fuck you?"

"I'm not playing this game again—"

His hand left the desk to find your waist, fingers spreading across the strip of skin where your shirt had ridden up above your tied flight suit. Your words died as his touch sent heat shooting through you.

"What game?" He leaned closer and placed his other hand on your waist too, his hands warm against your skin. "The one where you pretend you don't want me?"

"I'm not—" you started, but your breath hitched when his hand came up to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone.

"Or this one where you act like I'm always the one holding back when you do the exact same thing?" His words ghosted across your lips as his hands slowly moved upward, thumbs brushing under the hem of your shirt. "Because that's what this feels like. Like you want me to make the first move so you can blame me if it all goes wrong, have an easy way out—"

"Don't."

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he could feel it through your chest. He was close enough now that the slightest movement would bring your lips together.

"Tell me to stop. Tell me this isn't what you want, and I'll walk away."

But you couldn't. Because despite all the frustration, despite all the hesitation and almost moments, this was exactly what you wanted. And he knew it.

When you stayed silent, he leaned in, lips finding your neck. His kiss was soft, almost careful, but it sent heat through your veins. His lips moved down your neck unhurried and slow, each touch a question you answered with a tilt of your head, giving him more access. Your hands found his shoulders, fingers gripping his shirt as he stepped closer and pressed you back against the wall.

"Who's holding back now?" he murmured against your throat.

Your answer got lost in a shaky breath as he continued his slow exploration, hands tightening on your waist. Everything felt electric, charged with years of want finally given permission to surface.

But even as he held you close, even as his lips traced every inch of your neck, he never quite crossed that final line. Never kissed your mouth the way you desperately wanted. Always hovering on the edge of something more, leaving you breathless and wanting. And you wouldn't close the gap either—too stubborn, too scared.

"Caleb," you whispered. 

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his own dark with want. "What now? Should I kiss you? Undress you? Want me to…"

His thigh nuded your legs apart, and then he pressed closer until there was nothing between you but heat and fabric. Your breath hitched, and your fingers clenched around his shoulders, nails digging in.

"Do you have any idea how much I think about this? About touching you you the way I really want to, without holding anything back? How much I need you?"

Your head tilted back, trying to find space to breathe, but he followed, lips grazing your throat. Each touch was torture, every kiss threatening to undo you completely. He moved slowly, mouth tracing down to your collarbone where he sucked gently, drawing a soft sound from you.

"You're so frustrating," you said, the words tumbling out. "You—God, Caleb, you always stop, you—"

"You think I want to stop?" His voice was raw. "You think I don't lie awake every night thinking about throwing away every reason I have for keeping my hands off you?" He sank his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, making you gasp. "I'm trying to do this right."

Your heart ached at his words, but the alcohol and years of longing made you bold. "I don't want right," you said. "I want you."

Something shifted in him then. His hands slid to your hips and pulled you in, pressing against you until you felt him, unmistakably hard, right where you wanted him. You moved without thinking, your body drawn to the pressure, to the spark it ignited.

He cursed, voice breaking as he buried his face in your neck and guided your movements with his hands. Each shift of your hips made the desk creak beneath you, the sound loud in the quiet room.

Your hands slid into his hair, tugging at it as you arched into him, heat building between you with each and every movement. His mouth traced lower, kissing along the edge of your top before his teeth caught your strap, pulling it down your shoulder. He kissed the newly bared skin like it was something sacred.

"Caleb," you gasped, voice catching as he thrust harder, growing more desperate. 

Papers and pens slid off the desk, which was rattling loudly now, but neither of you cared. His hand left your hip to brace against the wall behind you, arm trembling with the effort of holding back, of keeping this from spiraling into something neither of you could take back.

You felt him shudder against you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as he kissed every inch of skin. Hips pressed closer still, grinding against you in a way that made your head spin, and you couldn't help the soft moan that escaped your lips. It seemed to undo him completely—his grip tightening as he moved against you harder, the desk shaking.

"I can't think straight when you're like this," he whispered, his hand slipping under your top, palm warm against your lower back. "Do you have any idea what you do to me? How hard it is to be around you and not just—" 

Your legs tightened around him, wanting nothing more than for him to stop thinking altogether, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through you. 

You could feel exactly how much he wanted this—wanted you—but he still held back, his lips never claiming yours, only leaving marks along your throat and collarbone. It was maddening, this dance of almost, but the way he touched you like you were something precious made it impossible to pull away. 

You could feel how close you both were getting—his breath heavy and uneven, body trembling against yours.

His hand slid down from your waist to find your thigh. He hooked his grip under your knee, lifting your leg until it rested over his shoulder. You gasped, fingers clawing at his hair as his hard length slid back and forth between your thighs with such maddening friction you were sure you'd come any moment.

"I'm trying," he breathed. "I'm trying so fucking hard not to lose it right now."

Your leg trembled, and he tightened his grip, holding you in place.

"I'm so close." Your lips hovered inches from his, your soft moans spilling into his open mouth. "Caleb, please." You didn't even know what you were begging for—just more, all of him, anything to ease the ache that had been building for so long.

His hand on the wall slid higher, fingers curling like he needed to hold onto something, and for a moment you thought he might finally give in. But—

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, followed by muffled voices. Caleb froze, lips still close to yours, his whole body going tense. He lifted his head, eyes darting to the door. The voices got closer, then faded, but the thread between you had snapped.

His hand on the wall slid down slowly. He exhaled shakily and stepped back, leaving you cold and aching where his warmth had been. "You should sleep and get sober."

You felt dizzy from how quickly he could switch off, go from consuming you completely to treating you like a mistake that needed correcting.

"And pretend tomorrow that this never happened? You go back to being distant and I pretend I'm fine with it?"

"That's not—"

"It is." You leaned forward on the desk, straightening your top. "This is what you do, Caleb. You get close, make me think maybe this time is different, and then you pull away."

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "I'm not pulling away. I'm right here."

"For how long? Until someone walks by in the hallway? Until you remember all the reasons why this is complicated? Until you decide I'm better off as just your friend?"

"You know that's not—"

"Don't. Just… don't. I can't keep doing this with you. I can't keep wondering if you actually want me or if you're just lonely, or caught up in the moment, or—"

"You think this is just loneliness?" His voice went sharp, almost angry. "You think what I feel for you is some momentary lapse in judgment?"

"I don't know what you feel, and that's the problem. You never tell me anything.  Not when you nearly die, not what you're thinking, nothing. You just nearly fuck me and look at me like that and expect me to figure it out, but I can't read your mind, Caleb. And I'm tired of trying."

Everything went quiet.

"I'm scared," he said finally. "I'm scared of ruining what we have."

"And what exactly do we have? Because from where I'm standing, it feels like nothing."

He starred at you like you'd slapped him, and maybe you had. You watched his face crumple for just a second before he pulled himself together, but you'd already seen the hurt.

"Nothing," he repeated quietly, almost to himself. He took a step back, then another, putting space between you. "Right."

Nothing but breath. 

Yours. 

His. 

Heavy, tangled, filling the silence.

You wanted to take it back, to explain that you didn't mean it like that, but your frustration and anger kept your mouth shut.

"Sleep it off," he said finally, voice flat as he headed for the door. "Take the bed. I'll find somewhere else."

"Caleb, wait—"

He stopped for just a moment, hand on the handle, and you thought maybe he'd turn around, maybe he'd finally fight for this, fight for you.

"Lock the door behind me." 

And then he walked out.

You sat there staring at the empty space where he'd been, the ghost of his touch still burning on your skin and the taste of regret bitter in your mouth.

You could hear his footsteps in the hallway, getting fainter until there was nothing left but silence and the weight of words you couldn't take back.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Morning light streamed through the window, way too bright for your pounding head. You groaned and burried your face deeper into the pillow that smelled like Caleb—a painful reminder of where you were and what had happened.

A soft knock made you wince. "Come in," you mumbled, though speaking felt like sandpaper against your throat.

When you finally looked up, Caleb was standing by the bed with a glass of water and two aspirin. His expression was carefully blank, but the dark circles under his eyes told you he'd slept about as well as you had.

"Figured you'd need these," he said, setting them on the nightstand.

You slowly sat up, immediately regretting it as the room spun. "Thanks."

He sat down on the edge of the bed beside you while you swallowed the aspirin and drank half the water.

"I'm sorry," you started, finally meeting his eyes. "About last night. What I said."

"Which part?"

"All of it. I was really drunk."

"Yeah, you were."

"It wasn't fair of me."

He gave you a small, sad smile. After a moment, he pulled out his phone, scrolled through it, and set it on the nightstand. Soft music started playing, something gentle and slow.

"What are you doing?"

"What I wanted to do last night." He stood up from the bed and held out his hand. "Before you decided dancing with my best friend was more fun."

You looked at his outstretched hand, then back at his face. "Caleb, I'm still pretty drunk. Or hungover. I haven't brushed my teeth, I probably smell like tequila, and I look like I got hit by a truck—"

"You're beautiful."

Your heart did that tender flutter thing it always did when he spoke to you like that—gentle and sure, like you were something precious instead of the mess you felt like. 

Here he was, bringing you water and aspirin with dark circles under his eyes, being impossibly kind when you'd spent last night deliberately trying to hurt him. You'd used his best friend, his trust, weaponized his feelings against him when all Caleb had ever done was love you too much for his own good.

Even when you were being a complete mess, even when you said cruel things you didn't mean—he was still here, still calling you beautiful when you looked like death, still wanting to dance with you in his tiny room. You felt like such an idiot.

He offered you his hand like a peace offering, like forgiveness you didn't deserve, and you wanted to cry from how much it hurt to want someone this badly.

After a moment's hesitation, you found yourself taking his hand anyway, because even if you didn't deserve his kindness, you were too selfish to turn it away.

He helped you up slowly, steadying you when you swayed. His other hand settled gently at your waist, and he started moving in tiny circles, barely dancing at all in the small space between his bed and the wall, just holding you while music played softly from his phone.

"You got what you wanted, by the way," he said quietly against your hair.

"What?"

"Making me jealous. If that was your plan." His voice had that old teasing note, but beneath it, something honest. "Watching you with Gideon last night... it worked."

"I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't you? Even a little?"

"You were jealous," you said, more to confirm it to yourself than to ask.

"Insanely jealous." His hand tightened at your waist. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't always jealous of every guy who even looks at you."

"You're an idiot," you whispered, but there was no heat in it.

"Probably."

He spun you gently, turning you so your back was against his chest. His hands settled on your waist, and you could feel his steady breathing against your shoulder. It made your head spin—whether from the hangover or his proximity, hard to tell.

"Easy," he murmured when you swayed, arms tightening to steady you. "I've got you."

You leaned back against him, letting his warmth sink through the thin shirt of his you were wearing. 

"This is so stupid."

"Dancing with a hungover girl in my bedroom at eight in the morning? Yeah, probably."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. But I don't care. I've wanted to hold you like this for so long that I'll take whatever version I can get. Even if you're mad at me and smell like Gideon's aftershave."

You stiffened. "I do not—"

"Relax," he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "You smell like you. Just... you and a bit of tequila."

"You're awful."

"I'm honest." He buried his face deeper into your shoulder, inhaling your scent. "And I'd rather have you here, mad at me and smelling of some other man than not have you at all."

It hurt how he said it. 

Not because his words were cruel, but because of how tired he sounded. Like he'd already accepted that this was all he'd ever get. Like he was okay with loving you quietly, safely, even if it meant never really having you. Even if it meant watching you walk away with someone else someday.

And maybe that's exactly what you'd both been doing all along. Playing it safe. Because relationships were messy when hearts got involved, when people made themselves vulnerable. Love always ended in pain—that much you knew. Better to keep things the way they were, even if it hurt, than risk losing each other completely.

But God, you were so tired of being careful, tired of pretending that your heart didn't race every time he said your name, and of lying awake at night replaying every touch, every look, every almost moment where you'd felt the pull between you and chosen to step back instead of forward.

All those times in his kitchen when he'd stand just a little too close while making coffee. All those movie nights when you'd end up curled against his side, pretending it was just friendship. All those conversations that felt like confessions, where you'd catch him looking at you like you were something he wanted but couldn't have.

Not this time. 

You turned in his arms, slowly, until you were facing him again. "Kiss me," you said, the words reckless and desperate and born from nothing but foolish hope.

"You're still drunk."

"I'm not that drunk."

"Didn't you say so yourself?"

"I lied."

"Pipsqueak."

"Don't deflect."

He let out a breath. "You're hurting. And confused. And you'll probably hate yourself for this when your head clears."

"Maybe." You reached up, fingers finding the soft cotton of his shirt. "But I'm asking anyway."

He went quiet, those violet eyes moving between yours and your lips. "I don't want to be something you regret."

"You won't be. Caleb, you could never be something I regret."

His breath caught, and for a moment, that careful control slipped. His hand came up to your face, thumb brushing your cheek.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, leaning closer. Your heart hammered against your ribs as the space between you shrunk to nothing. His forehead touched yours, lips hovering close enough to feel the warmth of each word—

His phone rang. Sharp and loud.

"Fuck," he breathed, but he didn't pull away.

The phone kept ringing.

"Caleb," you whispered.

"I know." His thumb traced your cheek one more time before he reluctantly stepped back and reached for his phone. His face darkened when he saw the screen. "It's Commander Reeves. I have to—"

"Answer it," you said, though your heart was still racing.

He picked up with a clipped "Caleb," his voice immediately shifting into something professional and distant. You watched his expression grow more serious as he listened.

"How many?" A pause. "Yeah, I'm on my way." He hung up and looked at you. "Emergency at the base during training. I have to—"

"Go," you said quickly. "People need you."

He moved toward the door, then stopped. Without a word, he came back to you, his hands cupping your face with that careful tenderness that always undid you and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. It was chaste, safe, and full of everything he couldn't say and you wouldn't risk asking. It left an empty sort of sting in your chest, how much it meant and how little it changed anything.

Then he was gone, grabbing his jacket and rushing out to save someone else, leaving you alone with his goodbye that wasn't quite a goodbye, and a promise that wasn't quite a promise.

Only another almost to add to your collection.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

By the time Caleb finally made it back to his room, the sun was high and unforgiving.

He opened the door, expecting to find you still there—maybe asleep again, or pacing impatiently, ready to give him an earful for making you wait so long, telling him that you were hungry and bored and he'd smile and take you to eat with the other cadets right after he finally, finally kissed you.

But you weren't there.

The bed was empty and his shirt you'd borrowed was neatly folded at the foot of the bed. The only proof you'd been there was a note on his nightstand, scribbled on the back of his training plan:

thank you for everything. had to catch the 11:30 train back to linkon. talk soon — you

Caleb stared at the note for a long moment, then slowly crumpled it in his fist. Of course you'd run. Of course you'd slip out while he was dealing with the emergency, avoiding the conversation you'd both been dancing around for months and years. But he couldn't even be angry with you, because he understood.

This thing between you had crept up so slowly that neither of you had noticed when it stopped being just friendship. When his need to protect you had shifted from something innocent to something that kept him awake at night. When your easy comfort around him had developed this electric edge that made every touch feel like playing with fire.

He could trace it back if he really tried. Being fifteen and suddenly noticing how pretty you were, then feeling guilty about it because you were his childhood friend and that felt like a betrayal of something pure. He remembered you at seventeen, falling asleep on his shoulder during a late night study session, and the way his heart had started racing for reasons he couldn't name. 

How you'd started looking at him differently after he'd enlisted, like you were seeing him as a man instead of the boy who'd grown up next to you.

But somewhere along the way, the easy intimacy of childhood had gotten complicated. Every conversation now carried the weight of things unsaid. Every touch too fleeting to truly satisfy. Every glance asked questions neither of you knew how to answer.

Now there was so much distance between who you'd been as kids and who you were now that neither of you knew how to bridge it. Too much history to pretend this was simple, but too much fear to admit it had never been simple at all.

He sank onto his bed and stared at the spot where he'd almost kissed you. You'd both wanted it—he could see it in the way your breath had hitched, in how you'd leaned into him. But wanting and having were different things when everything felt this fragile.

Because this wasn't just about attraction, this was about the person who knew all his secrets, who'd sat with him through his worst moments, who he trusted more than anyone. This was about risking the most important relationship in his life for something that might burn bright and beautiful—or destroy everything.

His phone buzzed. A text.

You: made it back safely. thanks for last night. and this morning

He stared at the message, knowing that beneath those polite lines was the same confusion he felt, the same want tangled up with the same fear. 

He typed and deleted a dozen replies. 

Caleb: why did you leave? 

Delete.

Caleb: please don't run from this. don't run from me

Delete.

Caleb: i wanted to kiss you

Delete.

Caleb: i think about kissing you all the time

Delete.

Caleb: i love you. i'm in love with you. i have been for years and i'm tired of pretending i'm not

Delete.

Caleb: i don't know when i fell for you, but i can't remember not being in love with you. and when i was on that deepspace tunnel rescue mission, all i could think about was that i can't die before i ever get to tell you how i feel

Delete.

Caleb: i'm sorry i didn't tell you what happened. i wanted to protect you, but lately i think i don't know how to take care of you anymore and all i do is screw things up

Delete. 

In the end, he sent:

Caleb: glad you're safe

Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then appeared again. 

You: hope the emergency wasn't too bad. get some rest

And that was it. You were gone, back to Linkon, back to your life of hunting Wanderers and keeping the world safe. Back to pretending that whatever had almost happened between you was just leftover adrenaline and alcohol.

But Caleb knew better. The way you'd looked at him, the way you'd asked him to kiss you—that wasn't the tequila talking, that was twenty years of friendship finally admitting it wanted to be something more, that was all the careful space you'd both maintained finally crumbling under the weight of wanting someone you were too afraid to lose.

His fingers found the silver apple pendant resting against his chest, the one you'd given him with "When U Come Home" engraved on its surface. Such simple words that had carried him through countless flights, countless nights when the distance between you felt impossible to cross. 

But as he held it now, all he could think about was the way you'd felt pressed against him. The warmth of your skin beneath his hands. The soft sound you'd made when he'd kissed your neck. The way you'd trembled against him like you wanted him just as desperately as he wanted you.

God, he wanted you. Had wanted you for so long that desire had become a constant ache in his chest, something he'd learned to carry like a pilot carries the weight of sky—always there, always pulling, always threatening to drag him down if he let himself think about it too much.

And he was so fucking tired of being afraid. Tired of measuring every touch, every word, every look for signs that he might be crossing some invisible line. Tired of pretending that loving you was something to be ashamed of instead of the most natural thing in the world. 

You'd asked him to kiss you. 

You'd said he could never be something you'd regret. And instead of believing you, instead of trusting what he'd seen in your eyes, he'd let fear make the choice for him again.

Afternoon light streamed through his window, warm and golden, the same light that was probably falling across your face right now as you sat in your apartment, maybe thinking about him the way he couldn't stop thinking about you. Maybe touching your lips and remembering how close he'd come to kissing them. Maybe wondering if he'd ever be brave enough to choose love over safety.

And as he sat there, all he could think about was the empty space where you should be—in his arms, in his bed, in his life without any barriers between you.

He was done being afraid of losing you. Never truly having you would destroy him far more quietly, far more completely.

Caleb stood, touched the apple pendant once more, and reached for his keys.

masterlist + support my writing + ao3

author's note — so you might be wondering why this story sounds so similar to my other caleb fic and to give you an answer it is because i'm quite uncreative and had exactly two things on my brain: flying with him and dry humping. excuse my complete lack of originality with this one lol.

anyway, thank you for taking the time to dive into this emotional mess with me. i'll maybe write a part two for this. if you enjoyed the story, comments and reblogs always make my day and mean the world to me. thank you again for being here <3

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A rescue mission. Some pilot got lost in the shallow parts of the Deepspace Tunnels when Wanderers attacked. Caleb had been first on scene, first to respond, first to risk everything to bring someone home.

Your breakfast sat forgotten as you watched him drag the injured pilot toward the medical team on television. Even bloodied and exhausted, he wore that faint smile on his lips—the same one that always played on his lips when you were kids, when he patched up your scraped knees and talked you through nightmares. Always calm. Always bright.

But the wrongness of it all settled heavy in your chest.

You'd been sitting here, eating yogurt with fruits and already dreading the stack of paperwork waiting for you at the Hunter's Association later, living your normal, ordinary, boring Tuesday morning—while he was out there, staring down death in the void. And you'd only found out because you happened to turn on the news.

The footage replayed. You watched it again and again, caught in some masochistic loop you couldn't break. Caleb's hands steady on his teammate, that tired but genuine smile you knew so well on his lips, while the blood on his temple caught the harsh lights from the rescue team, and something twisted in your chest—sharp and bitter, like swallowing glass.

He didn't tell you. Hadn't called.

The news moved on to other stories, other tragedies. But you stayed frozen at your kitchen table, staring at the empty screen.

When had everything changed? When had you stopped telling each other everything? You used to be his first person he'd call when something happened. And he was yours. But now you'd learn about important things the same way as everyone else in the city. 

Like some stranger.

Your phone buzzed against the table.

Gideon: caleb's probably gonna kill me for this but there's a celebration thing for him soon. for the rescue. you heard about it right? it's all over the news

Gideon: he wants to be all humble about it but i know he'd love if you were there

Gideon: should i pick you up from the train station? make it a surprise?

You stared down at the messages.

Humble. Is that it? Was Caleb being humble, or was he just... not telling you? There was a difference, wasn't there? A big fucking difference between modesty and deliberately keeping you in the dark.

You could picture it—Caleb brushing off congratulations, downplaying what he'd done like he always did. "Just doing my job," he'd say with that slight shrug, the one that made people love him even more. But this wasn't about false modesty. This was about you finding out from the morning news that the person you cared about most had nearly died.

And wasn't that rich? Caleb, who worried about everything when it came to you. Caleb, who called if you were five minutes late from work because "what if something happened?" Caleb, who made you text him when you got home safe, even from a short walk to the corner store. Caleb, who once drove three hours in the middle of the night because you'd mentioned feeling sick in a text and he "wanted to make sure you were okay."

That same Caleb could apparently face down Wanderers in the depths of space, bleed from his fucking temple, risk his life pulling someone else to safety—and not think you deserved to know about it. Not think you'd want to worry about him the same way he always worried about you.

It stung. How many times had he made you promise to tell him everything? Every mission briefing, every late night at the office, every time you so much as stubbed your toe. But when it came to him nearly dying? Radio silence.

Like your worry didn't matter. Like you didn't matter enough to include in the aftermath of something that could have killed him.

Your fingers hovered over your phone. Part of you wanted to type back immediately—yes, pick me up, I'll be there. But another part, the part that was still stinging from being left out, wanted to ask why Caleb hadn't invited you himself. Why it took Gideon texting behind his back for you to even know there was something to celebrate.

Your fingers moved before you could overthink it.

You: when's the celebration?

Gideon: friday night. 7pm at the airbase on skyhaven

Gideon: should i pick you up?

You stared at the messages, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Friday night. Less than seventy-two hours to decide if you were going to show up and pretend everything was fine, or stay home and let the silence stretch between you and Caleb until it became something you couldn't cross.

You: yeah. can you pick me up at 6?

Gideon: sure thing! he's gonna be so happy to see you

You shoved your phone into your bag and grabbed your hunter's jacket from the back of the chair.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The train to Skyhaven felt longer than usual, every kilometer stretching endlessly as you stared out the window at the clouds below. Your stomach twisted with nerves you couldn't quite name—part anticipation, maybe longing, mostly dread.

When the train finally pulled into the station, you spotted Gideon right away. He was leaning against a pillar, scrolling through his phone, dark hair falling messily across his forehead. The moment he saw you, his face lit up.

"Holy shit, did you grow again?" he called out, pushing off the pillar with that bright grin of his.

"I'm the same height I've been for the past five years."

"Nah, definitely taller." He pulled you in one of those crushing hugs that reminded you why you'd always thought of him as more of a big brother than Caleb's best friend. "It's good to see you again. It's been way too long."

You melted into the hug, breathing in the familiar scent of DAA pilots, who always smelled a bit like fuel and whatever surprisingly fancy soap they used at the dorms. 

For a moment, it felt like old times—like that weekend you'd visited them during pilot training, when the three of you snuck off to watch the sunset from the riverbank, feet dangling over the edge, passing around lukewarm cider in the fading light and laughing until your sides ached. Back when everything was simple, before everything got complicated, before Caleb started keeping secrets.

"You look good," Gideon said, stepping back to get a proper look at you. "Tired, but good. Work keeping you busy?"

"When isn't it?" You tugged at your simple outfit. "Is this okay for tonight? I wasn't sure what to wear to a celebration at an airbase."

"You look perfect." His expression softened. "He's going to lose his mind when he sees you."

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. "He didn't… he didn't tell me."

Gideon's face changed immediately. He'd always been able to read you too well. "Ah. Yeah, he didn't want to bother you. You know how he gets—worries about you so much he forgets his own mind."

"Still, it's…"

"Hey." He grabbed your shoulders gently, making you look at him. "Listen to me. You're the most important person in his life. That idiot's been sulking for weeks because he misses you. He's overprotective to a fault, but he really cares about you, okay?"

Something in his voice made the tight feeling in your chest ease up a little. Gideon had never been one to sugarcoat things, especially not when it came to Caleb.

"He really is an idiot."

"The biggest." Gideon's grin returned as he slung an arm around your shoulders, steering you toward the exit. "Come on, let's go surprise our hero."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Walking into the DAA airbase felt like stepping back in time. Nothing had changed—same oil stained floors, same pilot portraits lining the walls, same faint smell of fuel and metal that somehow seep into every corner of the airbase.

You'd walked these halls countless times growing up, trailing behind Caleb and Gideon when they were still cadets, sneaking into places you definitely weren't supposed to be. It felt a bit like home in a strange way.

"Is that—oh my God, it is!"

You turned to see Lieutenant Chen from the communications department, weighed down by so many insignia it was a wonder her uniform held together.

"We had no idea you were coming!"

"Surprise," you said awkradly, suddenly aware of all the eyes turning your way.

"Caleb's gonna absolutely lose it." Chen smiled. "He never shuts up about you. We've been wondering when you'd visit again."

More faces you recognized started appearing as you walked down the hall. Captain Morrison from tactical planning, who remembered you from the academy's family days. Sergeant Liu, who'd once caught you and Caleb trying to sneak into the flight simulators and had pretended not to see you.

But also not familiar faces smiled when they saw you. It was almost a little unsettling how everyone here knew who you were, even if you didn't know them.

"The famous childhood friend," someone said with a smile.

"She's prettier than in the photos," another voice added.

Gideon squeezed your shoulder. "Told you he talks about you. Pretty sure half this place knows your name."

It should have made you happy. Should have been sweet, knowing that even when he was here, surrounded by his colleagues and his other life, you were still on his mind. That he spoke about you enough that people recognized you on sight, that your name was familiar in rooms you'd never entered.

But instead, it just made the confusion worse. Because how could you be important enough to mention in casual conversation, important enough for wallet photos and desktop frames, but not important enough pick up the phone when he almost died? 

"Where is he?" you asked.

"Probably in the dorms, working off his nervous energy," Gideon replied. "You know how he gets before big events."

You followed him through the dorms, past rows of identical doors until Gideon stopped at one marked with a familiar call sign.

"Here we go," he whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. "Let me just—"

But before he could knock, you heard grunting sounds from inside. Your mind immediately went somewhere it shouldn't, and heat flooded your face. Was he—? 

You were about to grab Gideon's arm when he pushed the door open. And to your relief, it wasn't what you'd thought.

Caleb was hanging upside down from the top bunk, feet hooked over the bed frame as he did hanging sit-ups. His shirt had slipped down, revealing his abs as they contracted with each rep. Sweat gleamed on his skin, and his dark hair hung in damp strands toward the floor.

"Caleb," Gideon called out.

Caleb crunched up—or down, given his position—his hands behind his head, and the moment his eyes met yours, his face went completely scarlet.

 "What—how—" 

His concentration faltered, and suddenly he was falling, tumbling off the bunk in a tangle of limbs and hitting the floor with a loud thud.

"Caleb!" You rushed forward, dropping to your knees beside him. "Are you okay? Did you hit your head?"

He lay there on his back for a moment, staring up at you in complete shock, legs still tangled with the bed frame.

"What? Why are you here?”

He slowly pushed himself up to sitting, his eyes never leaving your face like he couldn't quite believe you were real.

"That's one way to greet me. Should I be worried you don't want me here?"

Without hesitation, he reached for you, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer until you were almost in his lap on the narrow floor between the bunks.

"Silly girl. Of course I want you here." One arm wrapped around your back while the other cradled your head, pulling you close against his neck. "How did you—when did you—"

"Gideon," you said. "He helped with the surprise."

Caleb's eyes flicked to Gideon, who stood in the doorway with a crooked smile, before returning to you. He was still warm from his workout, smelling faintly of soap and sweat and something else you could never name—but always recognized. 

Just him. Just home.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered against your ear, arms tightening around you.

"I missed you too." Your fingers found the soft fabric of his shirt, then brushed against the apple pendant he wore—always wore. "I saw what happened on the news. I was so scared, and then so proud, and I just... I needed to see you."

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, those violet ones you knew so well catching the light filtering between the beds. His face was so close, breath warm against your lips. It would only take a breath to close the distance.

"I'm so glad you're here."

And somehow that stung. It always did—this easy intimacy, this magnetic pull that made the rest of the world fade away. He could hold you like you were the most precious thing in his world, speak to you in that voice reserved only for you—and then turn around and shut you out completely when it actually mattered.

Gideon cleared his throat. "Alright, you two. As sweet as this is, maybe Caleb should find a real shirt before someone walks by and gets the wrong idea."

Caleb glanced down at himself, seeming to remember his state of undress, and his cheeks flushed red again as he quickly tugged his sleeveless shirt down.

"We've got a few hours before the party starts," he said, standing and pulling you up with him. His hands lingered on yours, fingers intertwined. "Want to go flying? We could catch the sunset if we leave now."

"Am I even allowed to do that? This is a military base..."

Caleb grinned, that boyish smile you always loved so much. "With me? Absolutely. Perks of being the hero of the week." His expression went soft. "Besides, I've been wanting to show you something."

You hesitated. But there was something hopeful in his eyes, almost vulnerable, that pulled at something inside you. You remembered how he'd looked on the news earlier this week—bloodied, exhausted, but alive. How your heart had stopped thinking you might lose him. 

You agreed before you could overthink it.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Twenty minutes later, after Caleb's quick shower, you found yourself in the pilots' prep room staring at the flight suit he'd laid out for you. The suit was thick and technical, covered in zippers and patches you didn't know how or where to put on.

"It might be a little big," Caleb said, emerging from the locker area in his own suit, hair still damp, clinging in soft curls at his temples. "But it'll keep you safe up there."

You held up the suit, then hesitated. "Okay, so... how exactly does this work?"

"Here, let me help." He stepped in front of you, close enough that you could see the water droplets still clinging to his neck and count his eyelashes if you wanted to. "Arms first."

You slipped your arms through, his fingers guiding the fabric over your shoulders, adjusting the fit with light touches.

"Now the belt." His hands moved to your waist, threading the utility belt through the loops. You had to remind yourself how to breathe as he worked, standing so close that you felt his breath on you lips.

You really hadn't thought this through. Flying apparently involved a lot more... proximity than you'd expected. Maybe you should've said no.

"Almost done," he said, like he could read every thought on your face. When the belt was secure, he paused, hands still resting on your hips. His eyes traced over you—down to where the suit hugged your waist, then slowly back up to meet your gaze. Something shifted in his expression, and his grip on your hips tightened slightly.

Your knees went weak. Just from the way he was looking at you—like he was memorizing every detail, like you were something he wanted to unwrap slowly and take his time with. Heat pooled low in your stomach.

You hated how he always had this effect on you. How he could make you forget everything—your hurt, your anger, the fact that he'd kept you in the dark—with nothing but a look.

You tilted your head slightly. "Caleb?"

"Sorry." He blinked, shaking his head like he was coming back to himself. "Just need to..." He reached for the front zipper, his knuckles brushing your chest as he slowly, carefully pulled it up. Each inch seemed to take forever, and you hated how much you wanted it to last even longer.

"There," he whispered, hands smoothing over your shoulders. "Perfect fit. How does it feel?"

You looked down at yourself, aware of how close you were standing, of how his flight suit clung perfectly to his broad shoulders where yours hung loose.

"Good," you managed. "Feels good."

His hand came up to adjust your collar that was already perfectly straight, fingers brushing the heated skin of your neck.

"Is this standard procedure for all your passengers?"

"Only the special ones." His eyes dropped to your lips and stayed there, like he was considering something stupid. Something stupid you'd wanted him to consider.

"Caleb," you breathed, not even sure what you were asking for. Maybe for him to close the distance. Maybe for him to step away before you did something stupid.

His thumb traced along your jaw, so light you might have imagined it. "Yeah?"

Voices echoed from the hallway, breaking whatever spell had settled over the room. He stepped back immediately, hands dropping to his sides, but his eyes stayed locked on yours.

"Ready to fly?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice. With your lips still warm from the way he'd been staring at them, flying was definitely the last thing on your mind right now.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

You really should have said no. Because what the hell were you thinking, getting into a fighter jet? You stared at all the bewildering array of screens and buttons, not understanding a single thing.

Damn Caleb and his stupidly pretty eyes of his. You could never say no to him.

He leaned over your shoulder from behind, reaching around to point at different instruments. His helmet brushed yours as he talked, voice coming through the headset.

"Okay, so this is your primary flight display," he said, finger tracing across a screen. "Shows altitude, airspeed, heading. And this controls your oxygen flow—"

"Caleb," you cut him off with a nervous laugh, "why are you telling me all this? I'm not flying this thing."

"What if I have a heart attack up there? You'd have to take over."

"Please don't joke about that. I can barely parallel park, and you want me to land a fighter jet?"

"It's easier than it looks." He reached across to flip a switch, his arm brushing against yours. "Besides, you've got good instincts. I've seen how you think under pressure."

"Quick thinking and flying are completely different things.”

"Are they?" His laugh rumbled over the comms as he flipped a few more switches. "Both need you to stay calm, think fast..."

Suddenly, the engines roared to life, vibrations running through your entire body. Your stomach dropped as the reality hit—you were actually doing this.

"Don't worry. I have every intention of staying alive," he added, his hand coming up to steady your helmet. "Besides, I can't leave you alone up here. How else would I get to see how cute you look when you're terrified?"

"I'm not terrified."

"Sure you're not." He glanced down at where your knuckles were white from gripping the seatbelt. A smug smile spread across his face. You wanted to punch him. "That's why you're holding on like the plane's about to fall apart."

"I hate you."

He ignored your comment. His hands moved to your harness next, checking each strap. You felt his fingers brush against your shoulders and chest as he tightened the restraints.

"Snug enough?" he asked, giving the straps a tug.

"I think I'm more secure than the aircraft itself," you replied, testing how much you could move. Which was basically not at all.

"Good. Ready to fly?"

"Absolutely not."

"Too late now." He moved to settle into the pilot's seat in front of you. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you up there."

"Just promise me," you called over the growing engine noise, "if you do have some kind of medical emergency, can you at least wait until we're back on the ground?"

His laugh crackled through the comms. "Deal." More switches flipped and the engines roared louder. "Now hold on and visor down."

You found the mechanism on your helmet, and the tinted shield clicked into place, casting everything in a greenish hue.

"Tower, this is Apple-7 requesting clearance for takeoff," his voice came through the comm system, suddenly serious and stern.

"Apple-7, you are cleared for runway 2-7. Wind at 2-1-0 degrees, 8 knots."

"Copy that, tower. Apple-7 rolling."

And then the jet lurched forward.

Oh shit.

This was really happening. You were actually doing this, and you were a complete idiot for agreeing to it. What kind of sane person just casually gets into a fighter jet? Normal people took trains. Normal people stayed on the ground where they belonged.

The engines roared even louder, and suddenly you were moving. Fast. Really, really fast. The runway blurred past in streaks of white and gray, and you gripped your harness so hard you thought you might break your knuckles. Pretty sure you were about to meet your end just because you couldn't resist some pretty violet eyes.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," you said, probably straight into the comms that anyone could hear, but you were past caring.

"You okay back there?"

"No. Definitely not. Why did I say yes to this?"

The nose tilted up, and suddenly you were pressed back into your seat like a giant, invisible hand was shoving you down. The force was insane—your whole body felt heavy, pinned against the seat as the jet climbed. Your stomach dropped straight through the floor while the rest of you felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the ground disappeared beneath you, that weightless feeling making you want to throw up.

Why the hell had you said yes this time?

Caleb had asked before. Multiple times, actually. "Come flying with me," he'd say, eyes bright with the adrenaline that always courses through pilots after a flight. "I want to show you what it's like up there." And you'd always brushed him off with some excuse—too busy, too tired, maybe next time. 

Flying seemed like his thing, not yours. You were perfectly happy with your feet on solid ground, thank you very much.

You'd never really thought about why you kept saying no. It just seemed... unnecessary. Dangerous. Something that belonged to the part of his life that didn't include you—the military side, the pilot side, the side that took him away from home for weeks at a time.

But now, strapped into a fighter jet and climbing toward the clouds at a speed that defied all logic, you couldn't figure out what had changed. What had made you finally say yes when he'd asked with that hopeful look in his eyes? Was it the way he'd seemed so excited to share this with you? The fact that he'd almost died and you'd realized how much you'd been holding back? Or were you just losing your mind?

Probably the last one.

"Breathe." Caleb's voice. "I've got you."

"This was such a terrible idea," you managed, eyes still clamped shut. "I'm going to die because I can't say no to you."

"You're not going to die. I'm a pretty good pilot."

"That's exactly what someone says right before they crash."

He laughed. "Open your eyes."

"Not happening."

"Come on. Trust me."

"I trusted you enough to get in this death trap. That's all the trust you're getting today."

"Hey." His voice went gentle. "Remember when we were kids and you'd get scared during thunderstorms? I'd always stay with you until they passed."

"That's not the same."

"I'm still here. Still got you." A pause. "Open your eyes for me."

Damn him. Damn him and that stupid, soft voice of his and the way he could make you feel safe even when you were hurtling through the air in a metal coffin.

You cracked one eye open, then both, and your breath caught in your throat at what you saw.

A dreamlike landscape stretched out below you. Fields and forests and winding roads, all bathed in golden evening light. In the distance, the sun was sinking towards the horizon, painting the sky in watercolours of pink and orange, bleeding together like spilled paint.

And there was Skyhaven, floating in the distance like something from a fairy tale. Its artificial island hung suspended in the twilight, lights already twinkling as evening settled in. From up here, you could see everything, the tall buildings, the landing platforms and the anti-gravity trains that looked like silver threads connecting it to the mainland.

You flew over the DAA airbase, which looked suddenly tiny and orderly from this height. You could make out the runways in perfect geometric patterns, hangars lined up like building blocks, the control tower standing watch over it all.

"Holy shit," you breathed.

"Language, pipsqueak."

"Holy shit, Caleb. This is..."

"Pretty amazing, right?"

You stared out at the endless sky, at clouds that looked like cotton from up here, at how perfect and small everything looked below. Your death grip on the seat loosened a little.

"Yeah," you whispered. "It's beautiful."

"Want to see more? We've still got time before we need to head back."

Caleb steered the jet gently to the left, and a few seconds later, you were flying over mountains that looked like the spines of a sleeping dragon, their snow laced peaks catching the last of the sun.

"Those are the Taishan Mountains," he said. "See that lake down there?"

You followed his direction and spotted it—a perfect mirror of water nestled between the hills, reflecting the sunset like liquid fire.

"It looks incredible," you breathed, pressing your face closer to the canopy. "I had no idea it looked like this from up here."

He guided the jet in circles around the lake, giving you the full view. "This is my favorite part of flying. Seeing the world like this." His voice went softer. "I've wanted to show you this for so long."

Mountains rolled beneath you in waves of green and amber, dotted with tiny villages that clung to the slopes. A river wound through the valley below, silver in the twilight.

"There—see that waterfall?" Caleb pointed toward a white ribbon of water cascading down the mountainside, each level catching the dying light before disappearing into the mist below. "And that one over there—" He tilted the jet slightly to one side so you could see another cascade, this one wider, spreading like a bridal veil across dark stone.

"They're amazing, Caleb," you said, watching the water dance in the fading light.

"I knew you'd love them. I've been wanting to bring you up here since I first flew this route. Every time I pass over, I think about how much you'd love seeing this." A pause. "When things calm down, when we're not so busy with work... I want to take you hiking up there. Show you those falls up close."

You smiled. "I'd like that."

The jet drifted through wisps of cloud that parted softly around the canopy, and for a moment, you felt weightless, suspended between earth and sky, while the world below seemed to stretch endlessly.

A flock of birds flew far below, tiny dots moving across the green landscape. Everything looked so peaceful from up here, so perfectly arranged, like someone had painted the world and hung it beneath the clouds just for pilots to see.

"You really love this." It wasn't a question. "Flying, I mean. I finally get it."

"Took you long enough."

"I always knew you loved it. I just... never understood the why until now."

"And now?"

You gazed out at the endless sky, at how calm everything looked from up here. "Now I think I might love it too."

"Good," he said, and you could hear him grinning. "So... want to test some speed?"

"What kind of speed?"

"Nothing crazy. Just a little taste of what she can really do."

"I don't know, Caleb. This is perfect as it is—"

"Hold on tight."

"Wait, what—"

The world exploded into motion.

The jet shot forward like a bullet fired from a gun, the landscape below blurring into streaks of color. Your body slammed back into the seat with crushing force—you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only grip your harness as everything became pure speed and sound and the absolute certainty that you were about to die.

"Caleb!"

"Just breathe!" His voice came through the comms, way too calm for someone currently trying to kill you both. "Let it happen!"

Within seconds, the fear melted away, replaced by an electric thrill that surged through you. You were flying—really flying—slicing through the sky like something loosed from gravity itself.

"Oh my God!" you shouted, but now you were laughing. "This is insane!"

"Amazing, right?"

"Don't you dare slow down!"

His delighted laugh filled your headset. "I knew you'd love it."

Clouds blurred past in a rush of speed so unreal it stole your breath, and for the first time in months, maybe years, you felt impossibly alive. You never wanted it to stop.

"Hey," Caleb said after a while of flying, way too casual. "You do remember how to pull up, right?"

"What? Why would I need to—"

"Just in case."

A soft click echoed through the comms.

The nose dipped.

Your stomach dropped as realization hit. 

"Caleb?"

The aircraft kept descending, the horizon tilting dangerously.

"Caleb!"

Without thinking, your hands flew to the controls, yanking back on the stick. The jet responded immediately, nose lifting as you overcompensated. Your stomach lurched violently with the sudden change in altitude before finally finding level flight again. 

"Take over!" you screamed, heart pounding against your ribs. "What the hell are you doing?!"

His laughter crackled through the headset. "Relax. I've got backup controls the whole time. You were never actually in danger." He paused, clearly grinning. "God, I wish I could see your face right now. I bet your face is all scrunched up."

"I'm having a heart attack!"

"You're doing fine. Keep your hands on the controls. I'm handling everything else. Feel how responsive she is?"

Despite yourself, you were starting to enjoy it. Every tiny movement you made with the stick and the whole aircraft would shift—left, right, up, down—and you finally understood what Caleb meant about dancing with the sky. In a way, it felt like dancing, but with gravity and wind and thousands of pounds of metal that somehow felt weightless under your command. 

"This is terrifying."

"This is flying. And you're a natural."

And the longer you held the controls, the more confident you became. It was almost intoxicating, having this much power literally at your fingertips.

"This is actually incredible," you breathed, making a gentle turn.

"See? Told you."

Then you spotted the throttle. Your hand moved before you could think, pushing it forward. The jet surged ahead, speed shooting pure electricity through your veins.

"Oh, this feels amazing!" You pushed it further.

The world blurred below as you picked up speed. You felt powerful. Alive. Like you could conquer the entire sky.

"Okay, that's... probably fast enough," Caleb said.

But you were drunk on it now. You pushed the throttle more.

"Seriously, maybe we should slow down—"

"Just a little more!"

"No, no, no. Fun's over." You felt him take back control, gradually bringing the aircraft down to a safer speed. "You're absolutely insane. Remind me to never let you near a motorcycle."

"That was the best thing I've ever done," you laughed, breathless and light headed. "Can we do it again?"

"Absolutely not. I love you, but—"

He stopped, and your heart skipped a beat.

Did he just…?

He did.

And he said it so natural, so easy, so seamlessly woven into the fabric of who he was that he'd forgotten it was supposed to be a secret.

But you knew what would come next. You'd been there before, knew every version of his backtracking, his deflection, of his careful rewording that would drain all the meaning from what he'd just said until it became something safe and meaningless.

It had been this way since you were teenagers, the pattern so familiar you could predict his next words before he said them. In a way, you'd gotten used to it. But knowing it was coming didn't make it hurt any less. If anything, the predictability made it worse.

Silence stretched.

"I mean—" he started, voice tight. "What I meant was—"

Suddenly, Gideon's voice crackled through the comm system. 

"Apple-7, this is base. You two lovebirds need to head back. Party started early—apparently someone couldn't wait to celebrate our hero."

"Copy that, base," Caleb responded after a pause, his voice controlled again. "Apple-7 returning to base."

As he banked towards home, all the playful energy drained away. Something heavier settled between you, the weight of words said and unsaid, of feelings that existed in the space between friendship and whatever this was.

"ETA fifteen minutes," he added quietly. But you weren't listening anymore.

When Caleb brought the jet down onto the runway at the airbase, you felt sick. Whether from the flight or his confession, you couldn't tell.

"You hungry?" His voice came through the headset as you taxied toward the hangar. "Martinez has been going on about the catering all week. I bet they've prepared lots of food."

You stared at the back of his head, feeling your frustration rise like a tide. You hated how he always backed off so quickly whenever things got too real, like he'd burned himself on the truth. Always leaving you to wonder if you'd imagined the weight in his voice, if those three words had meant anything at all or if he'd said them to anyone who'd listen.

"Yeah. I'm starving."

You could feel him wince at your tone.

"Wait until you try the barbecue," he continued anyway, forcing cheerfulness into his voice. "Base cook actually knows what he's doing for once."

The canopy opened with a soft hiss. Back to reality, where Caleb would pretend his heart hadn't been in his throat when he'd said those words, and you'd pretend you weren't exhausted from constantly dancing around whatever this was between you.

He'd said he loved you. Actually said it. And now he was talking about barbecue like it never happened, like you were just friends and always be just friends, like you were supposed to smile and nod and pretend your chest wasn't caving in from the weight of loving someone who could say everything and nothing in the same breath.

Before you could argue with him or he could apologize or you could both just sit in the wreckage of another almost moment, Gideon appeared beside the aircraft.

"There you are!" He grabbed both your arms before you'd even fully climbed out. "Come on, they're waiting for the guest of honor."

"Wait, we should change—" you started, but Gideon was already dragging you toward the main hangar where music and laughter spilled into the evening air.

Caleb unzipped his flight suit as you walked, letting it hang around his waist and tying the sleeves around his hips. Sweat darkened the fabric of his shirt, outlining the muscles in his chest and shoulders in a way that really didn't help your current frustration with him.

You did the same, unzipping your own suit and tying it around your waist. Not exactly the prettiest outfit for a celebration—but thankfully, no one else seemed to care about fancy clothes either. At least now you could breathe in the warm evening air.

You'd never seen the hangar look anything like this. String lights crisscrossed the ceiling, tables lined the walls loaded with food, and what looked like half the airbase was crowded inside with drinks, laughing and talking.

A cheer went up the second people spotted Caleb. Suddenly you were swept into congratulations and backslapping. Someone pressed a beer into your hand while others recounted the heroic rescue you'd only heard about on the news.

"Speech! Speech!" someone shouted, and the entire crowd picked up the chant.

Caleb got pushed towards the center of the crowed, looking genuinely uncomfortable. He held up his hands for quiet.

"I, uh..." He stopped, running a hand through his hair. "I'm really not good at this." 

Everyone laughed affectionately.

So humble. Of course everyone loved him.

You watched him fumble through his discomfort. Even now, with everyone celebrating him, he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. The same way he'd rather deflect than deal with what had just happened between you up there.

"Look," he continued, finding his voice, "what happened out there wasn't heroic. I was just doing my job. Any of you would've done the same thing."

More affectionate protests from the crowd. Someone yelled, "That's our Caleb!"

"It was a team effort. We all did what we were trained for." He paused, scanning the crowd until his eyes found yours. "But what really drives us, what makes us willing to risk everything, is knowing we have something worth coming home to."

Beside you, Gideon nudged your ribs, grinning like he'd won a bet. But instead of something warm, all you felt was irritation.

Of course. Of course he'd say something like that—something that could mean everything or nothing, something that let him dance around the truth while giving himself an out if anyone pressed him on it. Something worth coming home to. It could mean you, it could mean his whole found family here, or it could mean his favorite mechanic for all the specificity he was giving.

You took a long pull of your beer, jaw tight, as the crowd cheered his carefully noncommittal words.

When he finished his speech, you turned away before his gaze could find yours and headed for the bar. Maybe it was frustration, maybe adrenaline crash, or maybe you just needed something to numb whatever game you and Caleb kept playing with each other's hearts.

You stopped counting drinks after the third one. You'd come here to celebrate him, to be proud of him, but all you could think about was how stupid you'd been to hope for something real. 

Luckily, Gideon was just as drunk as you and completely oblivious to your mood.

"Another round!" 

He appeared beside you with two fresh beers and a grin that said he was already several drinks ahead of you. His cheeks were flushed, eyes bright.

You took the beer and clinked it against his, laughing at something funny he'd said that you were already forgetting.

"Maybe you should slow down a little."

A hand suddenly reached for your beer.

Caleb.

You pulled it away from his grasp, giving him a look that could've cut glass. "We're here to celebrate, right? Isn't that what you said? Something to come home to and all that?"

His eyes narrowed at your tone, violet turning darker, but before he could respond, Gideon threw an arm around both your shoulders.

"Exactly! Tonight we celebrate our hero!" he slurred, pulling you both closer. "And his beautiful—"

"Friend," you cut in flatly, taking another drink. You stared straight at Caleb as you said it, watching the word land heavy.

The music shifted to something upbeat, and Gideon dragged you towards the dance floor before either of you could say anything else.

He spun you around, both of you laughing as you nearly collided into other people. The alcohol had loosened you up, and for the first time all night, you actually felt carefree.

"You're awful at this," you laughed as Gideon stepped on your foot again.

"Hey, I'm a pilot, not a dancer," he protested, catching you when you stumbled slightly and keeping a steady hand on your waist.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Caleb still at the bar, those violet eyes locked on Gideon's hand at your waist. His knuckles were white around his beer bottle.

You knew this wasn't fair. It wasn't like you—getting drunk, making a scene, using poor Gideon in whatever messed up thing you and Caleb had going on. But you were so tired of it all. Tired of the mixed signals, the distance, the way he could say he loved you at ten thousand feet then stand in front of everyone and talk about you like you were just another face in the crowd.

You were done being careful. Done protecting his feelings while he stepped all over yours. When Gideon's hand moved to guide you through another spin, you didn't pull away. Instead, you leaned closer, letting your arms wrap around his neck as he swayed with you. You rested your head on his shoulder, eyes closing, knowing exactly who was watching.

If Caleb wanted to keep you at arm's length, he could watch someone else hold you close.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Hours slipped by in a haze of music, laughter, and terrible dance moves. Considerably, the crowd had thinned out, leaving only a few dedicated party people and those too drunk to find way back to their quarters. You fell squarely into the second category.

"Alright," Caleb's voice cut through your alcohol fueled fun as he appeared beside you and Gideon at the bar sometime deep into the night—or possibly early morning. "I think it's time to call it a night."

"What? No!" You swayed as you turned to face him. "Party's just getting started. Right, Gideon?"

But when you looked around, Gideon had somehow vanished. When you turned back to Caleb, you understood why.

He was angry.

"Come on. You've had enough."

"I'm fine," you insisted, though the way the room tilted when you moved suggested otherwise. "We're celebrating! You said it yourself—something to come home to, right? Well, your precious something is celebrating."

A muscle jumped in his jaw and then he was moving. He scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

"Caleb! Put me down! What are you doing?"

"You think I'll let you do whatever you want?"

You kept protesting as he carried you across the hanger, but his grip was iron. Other drunk stragglers whistled and made comments as you passed, which only made your face burn hotter.

He finally stopped at his room in the dormitory and fumbled with his keycard while still holding you. Once inside, he set you down and locked the door behind you both.

You stumbled as your feet hit the floor, the room spinning enough to make you grab his desk for support. 

"What the hell, Caleb?"

He was standing between you and the door, arms crossed, looking more serious than you'd ever seen him.

"What was your mission tonight? Were you trying to irritate me?"

You leaned back against his desk, crossing your arms to match his stance. The alcohol was still making your head swim, but his tone was sobering you up fast.

"Don't be so dramatic. It's a party. You're the hero, saved lives and all that, remember?"

"Is that why you were all over Gideon?"

A bitter laugh slipped out. "Like you care."

"I don't care?"

"No, you don't!" You pushed off from the desk, anger making you bold. "You don't get to care! Not when you do this—say things like that, tell me you love me, act all possessive, then pull away like it never happened!" Your voice got louder, years of frustration finally breaking free. "It's fucking exhausting, Caleb! I never know what you actually feel because you won't just—"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No! It's not obvious! Nothing about you is obvious!" You gestured wildly, the alcohol making you unsteady. "You're like a puzzle with half the pieces missing, and I'm tired of trying to figure you out."

He stepped closer. "You want to know what I feel?"

"Yes," you breathed, suddenly aware of how small his room was, how close he was getting.

Another step. "You want me to be obvious? Aggressive? Want me to press you against this desk and make it impossible to misunderstand how I feel?"

Your back hit the desk as he kept coming. "Caleb," you whispered, but it sounded more like a plea than a warning.

He braced his hands on either side of you, palms flat against the desk, caging you in. His body was close enough that you could feel his heat, could count the golden flecks in his eyes.

"Tell me what you want from me." His voice barely a whisper, his face inches from yours. "You want me to kiss you? Touch you?" He tilted his head. "...Fuck you?"

"I'm not playing this game again—"

His hand left the desk to find your waist, fingers spreading across the strip of skin where your shirt had ridden up above your tied flight suit. Your words died as his touch sent heat shooting through you.

"What game?" He leaned closer and placed his other hand on your waist too, his hands warm against your skin. "The one where you pretend you don't want me?"

"I'm not—" you started, but your breath hitched when his hand came up to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone.

"Or this one where you act like I'm always the one holding back when you do the exact same thing?" His words ghosted across your lips as his hands slowly moved upward, thumbs brushing under the hem of your shirt. "Because that's what this feels like. Like you want me to make the first move so you can blame me if it all goes wrong, have an easy way out—"

"Don't."

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he could feel it through your chest. He was close enough now that the slightest movement would bring your lips together.

"Tell me to stop. Tell me this isn't what you want, and I'll walk away."

But you couldn't. Because despite all the frustration, despite all the hesitation and almost moments, this was exactly what you wanted. And he knew it.

When you stayed silent, he leaned in, lips finding your neck. His kiss was soft, almost careful, but it sent heat through your veins. His lips moved down your neck unhurried and slow, each touch a question you answered with a tilt of your head, giving him more access. Your hands found his shoulders, fingers gripping his shirt as he stepped closer and pressed you back against the wall.

"Who's holding back now?" he murmured against your throat.

Your answer got lost in a shaky breath as he continued his slow exploration, hands tightening on your waist. Everything felt electric, charged with years of want finally given permission to surface.

But even as he held you close, even as his lips traced every inch of your neck, he never quite crossed that final line. Never kissed your mouth the way you desperately wanted. Always hovering on the edge of something more, leaving you breathless and wanting. And you wouldn't close the gap either—too stubborn, too scared.

"Caleb," you whispered. 

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his own dark with want. "What now? Should I kiss you? Undress you? Want me to…"

His thigh nuded your legs apart, and then he pressed closer until there was nothing between you but heat and fabric. Your breath hitched, and your fingers clenched around his shoulders, nails digging in.

"Do you have any idea how much I think about this? About touching you you the way I really want to, without holding anything back? How much I need you?"

Your head tilted back, trying to find space to breathe, but he followed, lips grazing your throat. Each touch was torture, every kiss threatening to undo you completely. He moved slowly, mouth tracing down to your collarbone where he sucked gently, drawing a soft sound from you.

"You're so frustrating," you said, the words tumbling out. "You—God, Caleb, you always stop, you—"

"You think I want to stop?" His voice was raw. "You think I don't lie awake every night thinking about throwing away every reason I have for keeping my hands off you?" He sank his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, making you gasp. "I'm trying to do this right."

Your heart ached at his words, but the alcohol and years of longing made you bold. "I don't want right," you said. "I want you."

Something shifted in him then. His hands slid to your hips and pulled you in, pressing against you until you felt him, unmistakably hard, right where you wanted him. You moved without thinking, your body drawn to the pressure, to the spark it ignited.

He cursed, voice breaking as he buried his face in your neck and guided your movements with his hands. Each shift of your hips made the desk creak beneath you, the sound loud in the quiet room.

Your hands slid into his hair, tugging at it as you arched into him, heat building between you with each and every movement. His mouth traced lower, kissing along the edge of your top before his teeth caught your strap, pulling it down your shoulder. He kissed the newly bared skin like it was something sacred.

"Caleb," you gasped, voice catching as he thrust harder, growing more desperate. 

Papers and pens slid off the desk, which was rattling loudly now, but neither of you cared. His hand left your hip to brace against the wall behind you, arm trembling with the effort of holding back, of keeping this from spiraling into something neither of you could take back.

You felt him shudder against you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as he kissed every inch of skin. Hips pressed closer still, grinding against you in a way that made your head spin, and you couldn't help the soft moan that escaped your lips. It seemed to undo him completely—his grip tightening as he moved against you harder, the desk shaking.

"I can't think straight when you're like this," he whispered, his hand slipping under your top, palm warm against your lower back. "Do you have any idea what you do to me? How hard it is to be around you and not just—" 

Your legs tightened around him, wanting nothing more than for him to stop thinking altogether, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through you. 

You could feel exactly how much he wanted this—wanted you—but he still held back, his lips never claiming yours, only leaving marks along your throat and collarbone. It was maddening, this dance of almost, but the way he touched you like you were something precious made it impossible to pull away. 

You could feel how close you both were getting—his breath heavy and uneven, body trembling against yours.

His hand slid down from your waist to find your thigh. He hooked his grip under your knee, lifting your leg until it rested over his shoulder. You gasped, fingers clawing at his hair as his hard length slid back and forth between your thighs with such maddening friction you were sure you'd come any moment.

"I'm trying," he breathed. "I'm trying so fucking hard not to lose it right now."

Your leg trembled, and he tightened his grip, holding you in place.

"I'm so close." Your lips hovered inches from his, your soft moans spilling into his open mouth. "Caleb, please." You didn't even know what you were begging for—just more, all of him, anything to ease the ache that had been building for so long.

His hand on the wall slid higher, fingers curling like he needed to hold onto something, and for a moment you thought he might finally give in. But—

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, followed by muffled voices. Caleb froze, lips still close to yours, his whole body going tense. He lifted his head, eyes darting to the door. The voices got closer, then faded, but the thread between you had snapped.

His hand on the wall slid down slowly. He exhaled shakily and stepped back, leaving you cold and aching where his warmth had been. "You should sleep and get sober."

You felt dizzy from how quickly he could switch off, go from consuming you completely to treating you like a mistake that needed correcting.

"And pretend tomorrow that this never happened? You go back to being distant and I pretend I'm fine with it?"

"That's not—"

"It is." You leaned forward on the desk, straightening your top. "This is what you do, Caleb. You get close, make me think maybe this time is different, and then you pull away."

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "I'm not pulling away. I'm right here."

"For how long? Until someone walks by in the hallway? Until you remember all the reasons why this is complicated? Until you decide I'm better off as just your friend?"

"You know that's not—"

"Don't. Just… don't. I can't keep doing this with you. I can't keep wondering if you actually want me or if you're just lonely, or caught up in the moment, or—"

"You think this is just loneliness?" His voice went sharp, almost angry. "You think what I feel for you is some momentary lapse in judgment?"

"I don't know what you feel, and that's the problem. You never tell me anything.  Not when you nearly die, not what you're thinking, nothing. You just nearly fuck me and look at me like that and expect me to figure it out, but I can't read your mind, Caleb. And I'm tired of trying."

Everything went quiet.

"I'm scared," he said finally. "I'm scared of ruining what we have."

"And what exactly do we have? Because from where I'm standing, it feels like nothing."

He starred at you like you'd slapped him, and maybe you had. You watched his face crumple for just a second before he pulled himself together, but you'd already seen the hurt.

"Nothing," he repeated quietly, almost to himself. He took a step back, then another, putting space between you. "Right."

Nothing but breath. 

Yours. 

His. 

Heavy, tangled, filling the silence.

You wanted to take it back, to explain that you didn't mean it like that, but your frustration and anger kept your mouth shut.

"Sleep it off," he said finally, voice flat as he headed for the door. "Take the bed. I'll find somewhere else."

"Caleb, wait—"

He stopped for just a moment, hand on the handle, and you thought maybe he'd turn around, maybe he'd finally fight for this, fight for you.

"Lock the door behind me." 

And then he walked out.

You sat there staring at the empty space where he'd been, the ghost of his touch still burning on your skin and the taste of regret bitter in your mouth.

You could hear his footsteps in the hallway, getting fainter until there was nothing left but silence and the weight of words you couldn't take back.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Morning light streamed through the window, way too bright for your pounding head. You groaned and burried your face deeper into the pillow that smelled like Caleb—a painful reminder of where you were and what had happened.

A soft knock made you wince. "Come in," you mumbled, though speaking felt like sandpaper against your throat.

When you finally looked up, Caleb was standing by the bed with a glass of water and two aspirin. His expression was carefully blank, but the dark circles under his eyes told you he'd slept about as well as you had.

"Figured you'd need these," he said, setting them on the nightstand.

You slowly sat up, immediately regretting it as the room spun. "Thanks."

He sat down on the edge of the bed beside you while you swallowed the aspirin and drank half the water.

"I'm sorry," you started, finally meeting his eyes. "About last night. What I said."

"Which part?"

"All of it. I was really drunk."

"Yeah, you were."

"It wasn't fair of me."

He gave you a small, sad smile. After a moment, he pulled out his phone, scrolled through it, and set it on the nightstand. Soft music started playing, something gentle and slow.

"What are you doing?"

"What I wanted to do last night." He stood up from the bed and held out his hand. "Before you decided dancing with my best friend was more fun."

You looked at his outstretched hand, then back at his face. "Caleb, I'm still pretty drunk. Or hungover. I haven't brushed my teeth, I probably smell like tequila, and I look like I got hit by a truck—"

"You're beautiful."

Your heart did that tender flutter thing it always did when he spoke to you like that—gentle and sure, like you were something precious instead of the mess you felt like. 

Here he was, bringing you water and aspirin with dark circles under his eyes, being impossibly kind when you'd spent last night deliberately trying to hurt him. You'd used his best friend, his trust, weaponized his feelings against him when all Caleb had ever done was love you too much for his own good.

Even when you were being a complete mess, even when you said cruel things you didn't mean—he was still here, still calling you beautiful when you looked like death, still wanting to dance with you in his tiny room. You felt like such an idiot.

He offered you his hand like a peace offering, like forgiveness you didn't deserve, and you wanted to cry from how much it hurt to want someone this badly.

After a moment's hesitation, you found yourself taking his hand anyway, because even if you didn't deserve his kindness, you were too selfish to turn it away.

He helped you up slowly, steadying you when you swayed. His other hand settled gently at your waist, and he started moving in tiny circles, barely dancing at all in the small space between his bed and the wall, just holding you while music played softly from his phone.

"You got what you wanted, by the way," he said quietly against your hair.

"What?"

"Making me jealous. If that was your plan." His voice had that old teasing note, but beneath it, something honest. "Watching you with Gideon last night... it worked."

"I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't you? Even a little?"

"You were jealous," you said, more to confirm it to yourself than to ask.

"Insanely jealous." His hand tightened at your waist. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't always jealous of every guy who even looks at you."

"You're an idiot," you whispered, but there was no heat in it.

"Probably."

He spun you gently, turning you so your back was against his chest. His hands settled on your waist, and you could feel his steady breathing against your shoulder. It made your head spin—whether from the hangover or his proximity, hard to tell.

"Easy," he murmured when you swayed, arms tightening to steady you. "I've got you."

You leaned back against him, letting his warmth sink through the thin shirt of his you were wearing. 

"This is so stupid."

"Dancing with a hungover girl in my bedroom at eight in the morning? Yeah, probably."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. But I don't care. I've wanted to hold you like this for so long that I'll take whatever version I can get. Even if you're mad at me and smell like Gideon's aftershave."

You stiffened. "I do not—"

"Relax," he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "You smell like you. Just... you and a bit of tequila."

"You're awful."

"I'm honest." He buried his face deeper into your shoulder, inhaling your scent. "And I'd rather have you here, mad at me and smelling of some other man than not have you at all."

It hurt how he said it. 

Not because his words were cruel, but because of how tired he sounded. Like he'd already accepted that this was all he'd ever get. Like he was okay with loving you quietly, safely, even if it meant never really having you. Even if it meant watching you walk away with someone else someday.

And maybe that's exactly what you'd both been doing all along. Playing it safe. Because relationships were messy when hearts got involved, when people made themselves vulnerable. Love always ended in pain—that much you knew. Better to keep things the way they were, even if it hurt, than risk losing each other completely.

But God, you were so tired of being careful, tired of pretending that your heart didn't race every time he said your name, and of lying awake at night replaying every touch, every look, every almost moment where you'd felt the pull between you and chosen to step back instead of forward.

All those times in his kitchen when he'd stand just a little too close while making coffee. All those movie nights when you'd end up curled against his side, pretending it was just friendship. All those conversations that felt like confessions, where you'd catch him looking at you like you were something he wanted but couldn't have.

Not this time. 

You turned in his arms, slowly, until you were facing him again. "Kiss me," you said, the words reckless and desperate and born from nothing but foolish hope.

"You're still drunk."

"I'm not that drunk."

"Didn't you say so yourself?"

"I lied."

"Pipsqueak."

"Don't deflect."

He let out a breath. "You're hurting. And confused. And you'll probably hate yourself for this when your head clears."

"Maybe." You reached up, fingers finding the soft cotton of his shirt. "But I'm asking anyway."

He went quiet, those violet eyes moving between yours and your lips. "I don't want to be something you regret."

"You won't be. Caleb, you could never be something I regret."

His breath caught, and for a moment, that careful control slipped. His hand came up to your face, thumb brushing your cheek.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, leaning closer. Your heart hammered against your ribs as the space between you shrunk to nothing. His forehead touched yours, lips hovering close enough to feel the warmth of each word—

His phone rang. Sharp and loud.

"Fuck," he breathed, but he didn't pull away.

The phone kept ringing.

"Caleb," you whispered.

"I know." His thumb traced your cheek one more time before he reluctantly stepped back and reached for his phone. His face darkened when he saw the screen. "It's Commander Reeves. I have to—"

"Answer it," you said, though your heart was still racing.

He picked up with a clipped "Caleb," his voice immediately shifting into something professional and distant. You watched his expression grow more serious as he listened.

"How many?" A pause. "Yeah, I'm on my way." He hung up and looked at you. "Emergency at the base during training. I have to—"

"Go," you said quickly. "People need you."

He moved toward the door, then stopped. Without a word, he came back to you, his hands cupping your face with that careful tenderness that always undid you and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. It was chaste, safe, and full of everything he couldn't say and you wouldn't risk asking. It left an empty sort of sting in your chest, how much it meant and how little it changed anything.

Then he was gone, grabbing his jacket and rushing out to save someone else, leaving you alone with his goodbye that wasn't quite a goodbye, and a promise that wasn't quite a promise.

Only another almost to add to your collection.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

By the time Caleb finally made it back to his room, the sun was high and unforgiving.

He opened the door, expecting to find you still there—maybe asleep again, or pacing impatiently, ready to give him an earful for making you wait so long, telling him that you were hungry and bored and he'd smile and take you to eat with the other cadets right after he finally, finally kissed you.

But you weren't there.

The bed was empty and his shirt you'd borrowed was neatly folded at the foot of the bed. The only proof you'd been there was a note on his nightstand, scribbled on the back of his training plan:

thank you for everything. had to catch the 11:30 train back to linkon. talk soon — you

Caleb stared at the note for a long moment, then slowly crumpled it in his fist. Of course you'd run. Of course you'd slip out while he was dealing with the emergency, avoiding the conversation you'd both been dancing around for months and years. But he couldn't even be angry with you, because he understood.

This thing between you had crept up so slowly that neither of you had noticed when it stopped being just friendship. When his need to protect you had shifted from something innocent to something that kept him awake at night. When your easy comfort around him had developed this electric edge that made every touch feel like playing with fire.

He could trace it back if he really tried. Being fifteen and suddenly noticing how pretty you were, then feeling guilty about it because you were his childhood friend and that felt like a betrayal of something pure. He remembered you at seventeen, falling asleep on his shoulder during a late night study session, and the way his heart had started racing for reasons he couldn't name. 

How you'd started looking at him differently after he'd enlisted, like you were seeing him as a man instead of the boy who'd grown up next to you.

But somewhere along the way, the easy intimacy of childhood had gotten complicated. Every conversation now carried the weight of things unsaid. Every touch too fleeting to truly satisfy. Every glance asked questions neither of you knew how to answer.

Now there was so much distance between who you'd been as kids and who you were now that neither of you knew how to bridge it. Too much history to pretend this was simple, but too much fear to admit it had never been simple at all.

He sank onto his bed and stared at the spot where he'd almost kissed you. You'd both wanted it—he could see it in the way your breath had hitched, in how you'd leaned into him. But wanting and having were different things when everything felt this fragile.

Because this wasn't just about attraction, this was about the person who knew all his secrets, who'd sat with him through his worst moments, who he trusted more than anyone. This was about risking the most important relationship in his life for something that might burn bright and beautiful—or destroy everything.

His phone buzzed. A text.

You: made it back safely. thanks for last night. and this morning

He stared at the message, knowing that beneath those polite lines was the same confusion he felt, the same want tangled up with the same fear. 

He typed and deleted a dozen replies. 

Caleb: why did you leave? 

Delete.

Caleb: please don't run from this. don't run from me

Delete.

Caleb: i wanted to kiss you

Delete.

Caleb: i think about kissing you all the time

Delete.

Caleb: i love you. i'm in love with you. i have been for years and i'm tired of pretending i'm not

Delete.

Caleb: i don't know when i fell for you, but i can't remember not being in love with you. and when i was on that deepspace tunnel rescue mission, all i could think about was that i can't die before i ever get to tell you how i feel

Delete.

Caleb: i'm sorry i didn't tell you what happened. i wanted to protect you, but lately i think i don't know how to take care of you anymore and all i do is screw things up

Delete. 

In the end, he sent:

Caleb: glad you're safe

Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then appeared again. 

You: hope the emergency wasn't too bad. get some rest

And that was it. You were gone, back to Linkon, back to your life of hunting Wanderers and keeping the world safe. Back to pretending that whatever had almost happened between you was just leftover adrenaline and alcohol.

But Caleb knew better. The way you'd looked at him, the way you'd asked him to kiss you—that wasn't the tequila talking, that was twenty years of friendship finally admitting it wanted to be something more, that was all the careful space you'd both maintained finally crumbling under the weight of wanting someone you were too afraid to lose.

His fingers found the silver apple pendant resting against his chest, the one you'd given him with "When U Come Home" engraved on its surface. Such simple words that had carried him through countless flights, countless nights when the distance between you felt impossible to cross. 

But as he held it now, all he could think about was the way you'd felt pressed against him. The warmth of your skin beneath his hands. The soft sound you'd made when he'd kissed your neck. The way you'd trembled against him like you wanted him just as desperately as he wanted you.

God, he wanted you. Had wanted you for so long that desire had become a constant ache in his chest, something he'd learned to carry like a pilot carries the weight of sky—always there, always pulling, always threatening to drag him down if he let himself think about it too much.

And he was so fucking tired of being afraid. Tired of measuring every touch, every word, every look for signs that he might be crossing some invisible line. Tired of pretending that loving you was something to be ashamed of instead of the most natural thing in the world. 

You'd asked him to kiss you. 

You'd said he could never be something you'd regret. And instead of believing you, instead of trusting what he'd seen in your eyes, he'd let fear make the choice for him again.

Afternoon light streamed through his window, warm and golden, the same light that was probably falling across your face right now as you sat in your apartment, maybe thinking about him the way he couldn't stop thinking about you. Maybe touching your lips and remembering how close he'd come to kissing them. Maybe wondering if he'd ever be brave enough to choose love over safety.

And as he sat there, all he could think about was the empty space where you should be—in his arms, in his bed, in his life without any barriers between you.

He was done being afraid of losing you. Never truly having you would destroy him far more quietly, far more completely.

Caleb stood, touched the apple pendant once more, and reached for his keys.

masterlist + support my writing + ao3

author's note — so you might be wondering why this story sounds so similar to my other caleb fic and to give you an answer it is because i'm quite uncreative and had exactly two things on my brain: flying with him and dry humping. excuse my complete lack of originality with this one lol.

anyway, thank you for taking the time to dive into this emotional mess with me. i'll maybe write a part two for this. if you enjoyed the story, comments and reblogs always make my day and mean the world to me. thank you again for being here <3

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And even though he doesn’t let anything show, you notice the goosebumps raising at the base of his neck.

“Sweetie, I can’t,” he answers firmly, though his hand trembles just slightly as he switches brushes. “I’m close. The movement, the essence—I can feel it.” His gaze flickers toward the strange figure he’s painting: a creature that might have been an octopus… if octopuses had banana-yellow tentacles curling absurdly in every direction.

The longer you stare, the deeper your frown grows. 

“I think I’m close,” he insists, brows furrowed in concentration as his hand move faster, almost feverishly. “Close to capturing the movement, the essence. I can’t stop now—stopping would be a waste.”

He continues, completely ignoring you, and after some minutes, you decide to stop being patient. You lean in fully, pressing against his side, making it impossible for him not to feel you. “Rafayel,” you whisper, your lips brushing the edge of his ear, “what if I say you’ve painted enough bananas for one night?”

Still, he doesn’t stop.

So, you pout, dragging your nails lightly over his thigh. “Mmm… fine. Then maybe I’ll just have to make you stop.” Your voice turns singsong, deliberately, as your hand slides a little higher, your body shifting against him.

You throw one of your legs over his lap, straddling effectively the solid muscle. 

Rafayel’s head snaps toward you instantly, eyes flashing from your body to the canvas you’ve just blocked from view.

“I told you to—eh! what you—mghn—” your hand traveled to cup his cock through his short, forcing his hand to abandon the brush and clamp around your waist instead. 

You lean in, lips brushing the shell of his ear, your tone feather-light yet dripping with mischief. “That is not fair, Rafa… You’ve got a pretty girl right here, all for you tonight, and all you’ve been doing is painting.”

You grind down, only one motion, back and forth, slowly on his lap. 

“Don’t give me that look,” you tease, tracing the line of his collarbone with one lazy finger. “I’m just trying to save you from going completely insane over that…” you throw a look over your shoulder, looking one last time at that—“…thing.”

He stays silent, the only thing giving you is his hand tightening around your waist. A warning he clearly expects you to heed.

You don’t.

Instead, you lean forward, brushing your lips just shy of his, your eyes sparkling with challenge. “What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll win?”

“Win what?” he mutters, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Your attention.”

The silence that follows is thick, tense. For a moment you think he’ll go back to his brushes, pretend you’re nothing more than an inconvenience. But then his fingers dig into your hip, and his gaze finally snaps fully to you.

The brush slips from his fingers and hits the floor with a hollow clatter. You don’t get the satisfaction of gloating. His palm slides to the small of your back, dragging you flush against him as he rises to his feet.

His bluish-pink eyes bore into yours, a dangerous mix of irritation and heat. “Climbing all over me like some spoiled little brat… ruining hours of work for your games.”

You open your mouth to smirk, to tease but it falters instantly. His forearms flex as he sweeps the clutter from the table beside him. Jars, brushes, rags—everything crashes to the floor in a chaotic tumble. And then, with no warning, he drops you onto the newly cleared surface, the impact jolting through your body.

Your gasp earns nothing but the faintest, cruelest curve of his mouth.

“You wanted my attention.” His hands pin you in place, one heavy on your thigh, the other gripping your wrist against the wood. “Now you’ll have it. And you’ll learn what it costs to steal it from me too.”

You squirm, testing him, eyes glinting with defiance. “Maybe you should thank me,” you breathe, forcing your bravado. “That painting wasn’t going anywhere.”

His laugh is humorless. “Careful.” He leans down, his face ghosting yours promising you a kiss that… nevercame—denying you the kiss you instinctively leaned toward to. “Every second you keep talking, I think of new ways to make you regret it.”

“That so?” you deadpan, your legs closing around his waist. “And how exactly will yo—”

Your sentence quiet never see the end of it as you’re interrupted with a mean slap on your thigh, heat blooming under his palm.

Rafayel’s hand that had been pinning you to the table flips in a single, controlled movement. You find the world turning and, in a blink, you’re face-up on the cleared workbench, paint-splattered wood rattling next to you. 

Both of your wrists are caught and secured above your head in one iron sweep.

He stands over you, tall and unreachable, the studio’s clutter framing him like a chaotic halo. For a second, he simply looks—cataloguing, assessing—the predatory patience in his gaze sharpening into something darker. 

“You think a pout and a little straddle buys you mercy, huh?” his thumb drags once along the underside of your wrist, everything but gentleness covers it. “You don’t get to decide when I work and when I don’t.”

You fling a look up at him, chin high, picturing the smug little grin you planned to give. The grin trembles but refuses to fall away. “Maybe I like to decide,” your voice is breathless, your mind full of anticipation. “Takin’ control and all.”

He snorts. “Yeah, of course you do.” He drops his chest, letting his weight crushes you to the table. “But enjoy it while you can,” sharp teeth bite your lobe, a tiny bite that sends shot of pleasure down your spine. “I’ll make sure you remember why you don’t do it often.”

As for now, he lets the silence stretches until your pulse hammers in your throat. Then, with the slowness of a man who knows the exact point where patience breaks, he traces the heel of his hand from the hallow of your throat, between your shoulder blades and finishes on the small of your back—where you skirt is haphazardly hunched above your ass.

He repeats the motion again and again, and every inch of that line pulls at the composure you’d been so proud of.

Heat crawls through you—indignation and something you won’t name—and the brat in you flares one last time. “You sound like you’re enjoying this,” you say, although it sounds more like a whimper than anything else.

He glances down, and for the barest heartbeat, you catch his expression softening into something almost like affection in the corner of your eye. But the softness is gouged away and replaced with a mockery flick in his dilatated pupils. 

“’course I am. You deserve someone who won’t hand you everything on a plate.”

Somewhere between the stubborn pulse at your throat and the slow, mounting pressure of his hold, you realize you’ve called down a storm you’re not sure you can weather. 

He’s not frantic, he’s not clumsy. He’s methodical, a patient artist with a new muse to dominate—and he’s going to enjoy every meticulous, maddening minute of it.

His palm is still firmly capturing your wrists when the other finds its way against your panties. A devilish smirk touches his face—they’re wet.

“Who gets worked up from the threat of being punished? Only sluts do,” he pushes your shirt higher, exposing the line of your back, and his mouth lands there. He trails wet kisses, letting his tongue darting out there and here—leaving a series of teasing kisses that are much a claim as they are torment. 

His long fingers toy with your clit through your fabric. 

Time slows, the studio around you seems to contract until it’s just the two of you and the sound of ragged breaths. 

His digits are unhurried against your throbbing core. He coordinates his tempo: fingers circling around your clit—quiet never touching it—and the tip of his hot tongue drawing small circle at the very base of your spine.

You pant onto the wood, your forehead resting against it as your ass wiggle in hope to get his hand where you want it. Your nails dig onto his larger one, squirming under his weight.

“Need something?” his voice’s muffled against your flushed skin. His pink tongue explores lower, not afraid to lick your ass covered with panties and then back up to your spine.

“Fingers.” Your voice is thick with need, your mind is devoid of all thoughts except for the fat of his digits messing up your slick on your fat lips.

A low chuckle rumbles against your back, hot breath ghosting where his lips just were. He presses his hand flat between your thighs, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit through soaked fabric. “Greedy little thing.”

He frees his hand from above your head and comes to tug at your panties, pulling them tight against your swollen folds before snapping the elastic back in place, a sharp sting making your body jolt. 

“You’re dripping through these,” he mutters, dragging two fingers over the damp patch. He pushes the fabric aside at last, and the sudden cool air against your bare cunt makes you whimper.

Thick fingers spread the fatness of your cunt aside, two thumbs holding them apart as he crouches to be eyed level with the pretty pussy.

His pretty pussy.

He gathers a generous quantity of saliva in his mouth and spits. His eyes are fixated on the bullets of spit dripping down and mixing with your arousal.

And finally, he presses one thick elegant digit inside. A single and long finger reaching far deeper than some could ever. A messy moan spills free from your parted mouth and Rafayel answers just as enthusiastically.

“Ehhhhh…” he mutters, “…already clenching?”

He twists his wrist, sliding in to the knuckle before pulling back and thrusting again, each motion dragging out more wetness. His other finger teases at your entrance, circling then pushing; forcing its way in beside the first.

Your eyes roll back when his fingers curve and hit the spongy spot. But he doesn’t stop there—it would be too merciful—instead he uses his thumb to stimulate your clit, rubbing slow and in rhythm with his fingers inside you.

He leans in, lips brushing against your thigh as his voice drops to a growl. “Now… what was it you said?” his fingers curl deeper, his thumb pressing harder until your vision blur with tears. “ ‘tryin’ to save me from going insane over that thing’… mm?”

You choke on a moan, writhing under him, but his grip on your thighs pins you wide open. His tone drips with mock affection when he whispers your name, yet his eyes are dark—all the pretty blue and pink of his eyes eaten up by his blown pupils. “Look at you now. Who’s insane?”

Your body convulses when he scissors his fingers inside you, the round end of his middle and ring finger dragging against your walls with every slow pump. The sound is wet, filling the studio like another brushstroke in his masterpiece.

Your teeth sinking into your lip as you try to hold it in. But he sees it—sees the tremor in your thighs, sees your knuckles turning white.

“You’re holding back,” Rafayel says almost softly, “Don’t.”

His thumb presses harder, circling with surgeon’s precision. His fingers find that spongy spot again and again, curling, stroking, coaxing. Your bratty retorts die in your throat, replaced with desperate gasps.

“Say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing higher up your thigh, wet heat from his breath raising goosebumps. 

His thumb slaps lightly against your sensitive button. “Say. It. Whose hands are driving you insane now?”

“R-Rafayel—”

And when you break—when the tension snaps inside you with a cry that tears from your chest—he watches you unravel with painter’s focus. Your slick gushes around his fingers, dripping onto his wrist, pooling under you. He doesn’t look away once, doesn’t let up his rhythm until you’re twitching and sobbing against the polished wood.

“Beautiful,” his lips ghost your slick thighs. His fingers slow, coaxing every last tremor from your cunt. “Messier than paint on canvas. But still…” his voice drops lower when he adds, “…perfect.” Followed by a kiss on your inner thigh.

When he pulls out his fingers, the studio’s light reflects on the slick glistening on his hand. And he’s so intoxicated, he doesn’t wait longer to lick them clean, one by one. As though savoring the work of art he just created.

His lips crash against your swollen cunt, tongue flattening and toying with your sweet spot. 

“A-ah—!” You jolt, crying out, thighs instinctively trying to close, and you try to push up from the table.

But Rafayel is faster, stronger. One palm slam on your lower back as the other push one of your legs on the wood, keeping you wide open for him to taste as he wishes.

His tongue works relentlessly, none of that practiced precision from earlier.

You sob, hips lifting, trying to wriggle away and chase it at the same time. His teeth catch on your clit, scraping lightly before he sucks it hard, and your vision bursts with stars.

“Thought you were tough,” he chuckles, blowing a hot breath on your sensitive part. “Gonna paint you with it,” he groans into your cunt, words muffled. “With every drop I’ll pour into your pussy.”

His fingers piston back inside your tight hole, two at once, curling viciously as his tongue never leaves your clit. Each thrust of his fingers punches that swollen spot inside.

Your voice breaks into ragged pants, your body trashing, but his grip on you in firm.

When your orgasm tears through you this time, it’s violent. Your cunt gushes around his fingers, soaking his palm, splattering the floor beneath you. He moans low and feral at the sight, drinking it down; messy slurps filling the room, nose buried against your folds as if he could drown there.

When he finally rips his mouth away, spit and slick drip down his chin in thick strands. His gaze immediately drops to your panties—ruined, useless, soaked through with spit and cum.

One strong arm hook around you, flipping you onto your back. You squeal at the sudden movement, body still spasming from your climax, nerves fried. But when your eyes catch his face—your stomach knots.

He’s gone. Utterly feral.

His lips are swollen red, glistening, and his pupils are blown wide, nothing human in the way they pin you down. He looks drunk, drunk on you. The obscene bulge straining his shorts twitches, leaking dark patches through the fabric, and yet—he doesn’t even touch it. His hand never stops, fingers still thrusting into your soaked cunt, curling, twisting, tormenting.

You’re sobbing, trembling, begging without words, but your body betrays you—milking him greedily, clenching and fluttering around those vicious fingers. He watches you unravel like a madman, chest heaving, a wild smile tugging at spit-smeared lips.

“Again,” he rasps, voice cracked, whispering hot against your ear. His spit dribbles onto your cheek, and he doesn’t even care—he smears it down to your mouth with his thumb.

He lets his fingers come out sloooowly before shoving them back in hard. His breath shakes as his forehead presses to yours, his voice desperate. “Gimme another,” he says twisting his hand so his palm could press your swollen clit until he sees those pretty tears pearling your beautiful eyes. 

𓂃۶ৎ CALEB

“You think that was funny?” Caleb slams his forearm into the door right beside your head as he cages you in. the dim light of his frat rooms casts shadows over his sharp features, but it’s his eyes—usually bright, playful violet—that burn into you now.

“Well, you said it yourself, Caleb.” Your tone is casual, dismissive. “We’re only frat buddies. Friends who fuck when we’re bored.” You tilt your chin up, unbothered, lips curling into that smug you know he hates. 

“I do what I want at the end of the day.” 

He presses in closer, chest brushing yours, breath hot against your mouth. His fingers twitch.

“And if what I want,” you add sweetly, venom wrapped in honey, “is grinding my pretty little ass against some stranger, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

The muscle in his jaw ticks, his nostrils flare. You swear the air between you crackles. His voice drops lower, rougher, barely restrained.

“You’re out here acting like I won’t fuck the attitude out of you for that.”

And you smirk wider, satisfied, because that was exactly the reaction you were pulling for.

A reaction where Caleb sneaks his hand under your miniskirt, roll it above your hips and in an instant got the zipper of his jeans undone. His leaking head of his cock grazes your entrance before you could even blink. 

He smears his pre-cum up and down your soaked folds, spreading your mess across his length with a guttural sound. 

He spits right onto his palm, then stroking viciously his length. You watch the saliva covering his size and your reaction is immediate—your cunt flutters in need.

And without much warning he drives right in. The stretch is devastating, a white-hot intrusion that steal the air from your lungs. His bicep bulge as he hooks your legs around his waist, pressing your back against the door, holding you up with nothing but raw muscle. 

“B-bastard, mghn—!” you rasp, nails clawing at his back, his arms, anything and anywhere you could reach.

Caleb only growls in answer, burying himself inch by inch until his pelvis slams against your ass. The breath shudders out of him, his chest crushing your shirted tits, his mouth dragging spit-slick kisses up your neck. 

Your moans grow loud, your mouth falling open for his biggest pleasure.

“Shhh,” he pants, though he sounds just as desperate. his hips grind into you, the fat head of his cock nudging your cervix. “We both love when you’re noisy, but you don’t want the whole frat house to hear how much of a cock-hungry slut you are. . . do you?”

And you’re incapable of answering, because his pace suddenly snaps—brutal, pounding, his heavy balls smacking against your ass with every thrust. The sloppy squelch of your cunt swallowing him down echoes off the walls, mixing with your shattered cries.

“God—fuck—” his voice’s wrecked, caught between a whimper and a moan. He pulls almost all the way out, leaving you aching and empty, before slamming back in so hard the door rattles—his pubic hair not missing to assault your clit too. “Tight—so fuckin’ tiiiiight.”

You whimper, drool slicking your lips, mind blank under the rentless pounding. “C-can’t—”

“Yeah, you can.” His hand finds your throat, squeezing until no sounds can came out of you. His lips brush your ear, hot and desperate. “You’re mine. You’ll take it. You’ll take all of me like a good girl.”

You can feel every thick vein of his cock pulses, already spilling heat deep inside you. But he doesn’t stop, as if he could stop. Not when the sound of his cum and your slick squelching so perfectly around his shaft sounds like a delicious melody to his ears.

The filthy mixture drips down your thighs, staining the floor beneath. A fat ring of white cum is presents at the base of his cock, his happy trail shining with filth.

“Nghhhhhhh,” Caleb moans, eyes glassy, violet gone near black. “Loooook at this, ohhhh, fuuuuck,” His voice cracks, lost in awe, wrecked beyond repair.

His grip shifts, freeing your throat only to yank your top up, shoving your bra aside. His rough palms knead your tits, pinching your nipples until you cry. Sweat drips from his jaw, his grin feral.  

“Pretty thing—cryin’ and still squeezin’ me like you wanna wring out every drop. Filthy girl. If you wanted my cock that bad you could have just asked.”

“D-don’t—don’t be so—full of yourself, ngh—” You choke on your own spit, walls spasming around him, an orgasm tearing through you with no mercy. Your body convulses against his wide frame, cunt flooding his cock until it’s a wet mess.

“Yessss—fuck yes, that’s it,” Caleb snarls, pounding through your climax, his own cock swelling again inside your wrecked hole. “lemme wreck you ‘til you don’t remember how to insult me anymore.”

He spits again, this time right into your open mouth, smearing it across your tongue with two fingers. “Swallow.”

Your throat works, obeying, and the sight of it has him losing his mind. His hips stutter, cock dragging out only to slam back in, bruising, needy. He groans loud, desperate, and spills into you again, filling you until you’re overflowing.

He holds you tight as he lays you on the floor, folding you under him as his thrusts turn messy, erratic, his entire weight collapsing on you. his teeth sink into your shoulder, and his voice drops to broken mumbling between grunts and curses.

But your fuzzy mind still catches some words: “perfect pussy… never enough—never stoppin’”

𓂃۶ৎ XAVIER

“C’mon, use your big words,” Xavier looks almost, almost, bored. 

Midnight hums in the room, the clock’s ticking in the corner, but you’re kind of… needy. And, unfortunately for you, you’ve never had the heart to propose or the courage to even speak up what you wanted clear and loud.

It just wasn’t your personality…

And now that Xavier leans back against the headboard, sprawled half-naked on your shared bed, with only his boxer clinging low on his hips. . . well it didn’t help your shyness by any kind.

And it’s still not helping that he lets no expression letting out except for his deep blue eyes scrutinizing your fumbling hands playing with your nightgown.

A long finger hooks under your chin, tilting your face up until you’re forced to drown in his gaze. He only lifts his eyebrows, hurrying you to speak.

“It’s nothing really—” but his eyes narrow. That look alone stops you cold. The silent command in them is clear: don’t you dare lie to me. 

Your throat bobs. “I just—huh, it’s embarrassing, and, truly, I’d understand if you don’t want—”

“Oh, god,” he cuts in, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Spit it out already.”

“iwantedtotryasixtyninewithyou” the words trip out in a frantic rush:

“What was that?” the bored face cracks to reveal something far more dangerous.

“I—” your cheeks are burning red, your whole body on fire. “—wanted to try a sixty-nine with you.” 

The silence that follows could split you in two.

Xavier’s gaze drags down your body, and when it slides back up to your face, his lips curl. A smirk that makes your stomach clench. 

“You get shy about that?” his voice’s rougher. He shifts forward, the boxer straining as his cock hardens against the fabric, evidence of just how not bored he is now. “You really thought I’d tell you no?”

His finger traces your bottom lip, pressing until your mouth parts. “You’re adorable when you beg without realizing it.”

Your cheeks flame, your thighs pressing together unconsciously. His thumb slides into your waiting mouth, the taste of salt and skin invading your tongue. He pushes deeper the fatness of his digit, pressing heavy against your tongue until you gag, spit coating your lips, spiling down your chin.

While your mouth is full of him, his other hand drifts down your body, fingertips skating over the fragile line of your collarbone, down to your breasts. He pauses there, circling your hard nipple through the thin fabric, a lazy torment, before trailing lower. 

“Can’t even ask properly and yet you expect me to climb over you and make a mess out of you?”

Your tongue curls desperately around him in answer, spit slicking his thumb, and you nod, eyes blown wide. It’s pathetic. It’s enough.

He pulls his thumb free with a wet pop, smears the mess across your chin, and then grabs your wrist in a firm, unyielding grip. His strength is terrifyingly effortless. He manhandles you into position, turning your body where he needs it and forcing your weight on his abdomen as he discharges his boxer in a swift motion. 

His cock springs free, thick and flushed, the strawberry tip weeping in anticipation.

The sight makes your throat tighten. The weight of him settles against your lips when you lean down, your breath hitching as he leaks warm onto your tongue before you even have the courage to suck.

The position is dizzying, his cock nudging against your lips as his breath fans over your slick folds.

“Open,” he orders, pushing the fat head of his cock against your mouth. The taste of salt and musk coats your tongue as you wrap your lips around him. Xavier licks a slow up your slit, pressing flat and wet, dragging from your dripping entrance to your clit.

Your muffled moan vibrates around his cock. Xavier chuckles darkly, forcing your weight to drop full onto his eager mouth. His tongue is ruthless, plunging between your folds, lapping everything you give him. His nose buries into your clit, inhaling shamelessly your scent.

You choke around him when he shakes his head side to side, his tongue trashing, his mouth obscene. He groans against you, the sound vibrating through your cunt, and rocks his hips forward, driving his cock deeper into your throat. Tears prick your eyes when the round tip graze the back of your throat, drool pouring down your chin.

“Relax,” he rasps, “You can take it just fine.”

His teeth graze your inner thigh in a fleeting bite, a sharp sting soothed instantly by the broad lick of his tongue. Then he flattens it, dragging up and down the fatness of your lips, soaking you in spit, before flicking his pink, rosy tongue tip against your clit. 

Your whimper escapes, muffled around his cock, and you pull off him for a desperate breath, spit stringing from your lips to his shaft. 

“You think you can ask me properly to cum?” he taunts, his words a hot vibration against your sensitive folds. His thumb slides into play, pressing tight circles on your bundle of nerves while his tongue plunges lower again, fucking you with obscene wet sounds.

Your thighs quake around his head, your nails digging into his thighs for purchase. Your chest heaves as you pant, spit still dripping down your chin. The coil inside you twists tight, unbearable.

“I—uh,” your mind is too cloudy to even think about something else than his mouth. Said mouth pulling away from your warmth to spit directly onto it. The warm slick runs down your pussy, mixing with the mess he’s already made of you.

He slurps it back up, greedy, and groans low in his chest. “Already, allll dumb, mh?” he mocks, sucking harder. 

Your vision blurs, the room starts spinning, your moans break ragged out of your sore throat, but he doesn’t stop one tiny second. 

His hands shift lower, gripping your ass with bruising force, spreading you open until you feel obscenely bare, every nerve alight and vulnerable under his mouth. 

He devours you like he’s carving you open with his tongue, like nothing else exists but the taste of you spilling over his lips and chin.

𓂃۶ৎ ZAYNE

The show flickers on the screen. 

You’re sprawled on the couch, long and heavy plaid keeping you all warm with a gigantesque bowl perched on your stomach. 

Zayne sits beside you, his weight dipping the cushions, your calves comfortably resting across his lap. Every so often his hands drift absentmindedly, fingers drumming along you shin.

Everything is… Domestic.

Until you catch the corner of his mouth quirking. 

“What?” you mumble, squinting at him through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Nothing.” His tone is smooth.

“Zayne.”

He finally glances at you, those deep hazel eyes gleaming in the dim light, and shrugs with a grin. “You’ve got butter on your lip.”

You swipe at your mouth, frowning. “Where?”

He leans forward, and instead of answering, he presses the briefest, most teasing kiss to the corner of your lips. A peck, nothing more—yet, like every single time, your whole body sets on fire.

You blink.

He leans back, casual, as if he didn’t just make the air unbearably thick.

“That’s cheating.” you accuse softly.

“Cheating?” his brows lift in mock innocence, but his hand hasn’t moved from your leg. In fact, his thumb now traces small circles into your calf.

“Yeah,” you mutter, eyes darting to his lips before you can stop yourself. “You don’t get to do that and pretend it’s nothing.”

Zayne chuckles low, dipping in again—another quick peck, this time right on your lips. It’s longer and firmer.

And before you realize it, you’re chasing his mouth when he pulls away. Zayne meets you halfway, his mouth slanting over you again, this time slower, deliberate, a tease that steaks the air from your lungs.

It starts sweet; lips brushing, catching, but then his teeth graze your bottom lip, and you gasp. He takes the occasion to grab the back of your knee and tugs, dragging you across the couch until your straddling him—the plaid falling onto the floor.

And in only seconds, the kiss turns feral. Your mouths crash and part, tongue sliding, spit stringing when he pulls back just to watch you chase him. You’re breathless, whining softly when he doesn’t give you what you want right away.

“Eager?” his voice’s husky and his fingers are a brand where they drip your thighs, holding you down against the hard line of his lap. “Can’t even sit still.”

You grind once, as if your body wants to prove him right. His groan vibrates straight into your mouth before he smirks. “That’s cute.” He nips your bottom lip again, forcing a whimper out of you, then licks into your mouth.

Your hands find his soft, wild hair. You tug on them, desperate to pull him closer, tipping his head back. And he lets you do as you please—lets you ruin his mouth with sloppy kisses, lets your drool slick his chin.

“We’re only making out—” but you don’t let him finish. You lunge for his mouth, clumsily tripping his lips between yours, and he laughs into the kiss.

You lost all sense of time. His hands move to your ass and drags you down harder onto his lap.

Every kiss is a little more brutal than the last, your mouths moving in frantic rhythm… like both of you want to carve themselves into the other.

Your thighs squeeze around his hips, grounding yourself while his hands wander with no shame. One hand is heavily pressed under your top, keeping you plastered against his chest, as the other is gripping your jaw, tilting your face just so he can lick into your mouth.

You can taste him everywhere. His tongue strokes slow at first, then faster, sliding against yours until your throat tightens, spit spilling over your lips. And each time one of you break the kiss, a strong string of saliva connects you.

Zayne groans each time at the sight, bites it off your mouth, then licks it away like it’s his favorite thing.

“So fuckin’ messy, God—” his voice is raspy, lips bitten red and swollen from the endless kisses. His breath ghosts over your face, hungry, before he lets his tongue fall out between his teeth. 

“Suck.” He orders.

And you don’t even hesitate. 

You seal your lips around his tongue, sucking it into your mouth like that’s a damn lollipop. Your cheeks hollow as you drag it deeper, rolling your tongue around his, slobbering without shame. 

Zayne moans like you’ve undone him, his hips jolting up against you, cock grinding hard under your soaked shorts. His hand cups the back of your head, yanking you off. His pupils are dilated, eyes glued to your glistening lips. “Goin’ dumb on my tongue like it’s my cock…”

Your eyes flutter back, a whimper vibrating and ricocheting onto his cock. All while your body keep rocking on his thick thighs, dragging your clit against him. Your wetness soaks through cotton, leaving a wet spot on his pajama pants.

The couch creaks under the weight of you both, bodies twisting and writhing, plaid and popcorn long forgotten on the floor. His lips trail down your jaw to your throat, sucking messy bruises that make you arch and whine.

Your shirt is wrinkled, collar pulled down so he can mark you up further, and his hair is a wild mess where your hands keep tugging.

And still—still—it’s only kissing. Only his mouth wrecking yours until your lips are numb, only his tongue ruining you until your thighs ache from holding on so tight.

“Fuck—” you gasp when his teeth nip the sensitive skin below your ear. Your nails rake over his shoulders, clawing through the fabric of his shirt. “Z-Zayne—” 

“Say my name like that again,” he pants, one hand sliding up your shirt to grip your breast. His large and veiny palms cover the soft skin, two fingers pinching the hardened nipple. His hips snap up once, pressing harder his lengthy dick.

Your head falls back with a choked moan.

The sound makes him feral. He buries his face in the crock of your neck, sucking where his mouth reaches, marking you while rutting up into you with brutal rhythm. Each thrust drags your clit over the thick ridge of his cock.

He licks a stripe over the column of your throat, before biting down. His hand slips lower, sneaking under your shorts to cup the heat of your cunt through your soaked panties. He presses with his palm, smearing wetness. “You’re drippin’ through these, you—” he shakes his head, half in awe. His thumb pushes harder, testing how far he can make the mess spread. “Fuck, that’s a lot.”

And even if you wanted to answer, you couldn’t. You can only rut against him, thighs quaking, every nerve ending burning.

He takes your mouth again, biting, swallowing every broken sound you make. His tongue shoves past your lips like he’s trying to crawl inside you, and his fist knots in your hair, yanking you forward until your teeth clack against his. It’s filthy, all spit and desperation, both of you gasping into each other like air doesn’t exist anywhere else. 

“You gonna cum like this, aren’t you?” he circles his hips with maddening precision, making you nearly cry out. His cock grinds into you through too many layers in your opinion. A wet, dark spot is streaking his pants proudly.

“You—” you try, but your voice breaks into a whimper, nails digging so hard onto his back you’re sure he’s going to have the mark later on. 

The coil inside you shreds in an instant, your body snapping into release. Heat gushes into your panties, soaking through to stain his pants, dripping down your thighs as you convulse in his lap.

The sight of it—the feel of it—drags a curse out of him, rough and animal. His hips jerk in ragged thrusts, rutting into your mess. He never lets your mouth go, kissing you through your cries, teeth clashing as his cock pulses violently. He spills hot and thick into his boxers, the fabric darkening between you—long hot shoot of seed flooding the space.

You’re both a mess, clinging and trembling with wet clothes sticking to overheated skin. His lips bite yours one last time before pulling back and playfully smile at you. His hair a wild mess, dropping to his pretty eyes.

“See?” he whispers, voice shredded, lower face glistening with sweat and spit. “Just a make-out.”

𓂃۶ৎ SYLUS

“You be giggling a lot,” Sylus smirks.

Well, you think he smirks. 

Because with the thick blindfold he slipped over your eyes, it was hard to tell. The world was gone—you were drowning in a delicious velvety darkness. The sound of his voice circling you.

“I can’t help Sy’,” you murmur, biting your lower lip as your back arches instinctively off the bed. The leather biting into your wrists as the restraints tug taunt only makes you shiver harder, every nerve alive with anticipation. 

He chuckles, soft and dangerous, the kind of laugh that makes heat pool between your legs. “I can only imagine, my love,”

Your body squirms, but there’s nowhere to go, not with his knots holding you down firm, not with the slightbrush of his fingertips ghosting along your naked hip. The restrain, the blindfold, the not-knowing… none of it scares you. 

If anything, it winds you tighter, excitement burning through every vein.

You hear a faint rustle. Something delicate, whisper-light, tracing the air.

Then—

“Oh god—” you whisper, the faintest tickle of the hollow of your throat. 

A feather.

You jolt, breath catching, but Sylus’ hand comes down on your stomach to keep you pinned. “Easy,” he drawls, the grin in his voice unmistakable.

The feather drags slow—agonizingly slow. It traces over the curve of your throat, down to your collarbone. Your skin prickles, every nerve raw and screaming within seconds.

“Sensitive?” his voice is mock-sweet. 

It skims over your breast, circling lazily around your nipple without quite giving it the contact you crave. You arch into it, but the bonds snap taut, denying you even that little victory.

Sylus laughs under his breath but say nothing else. He dips the feather, trail over your ribs, down your side, stopping just above your hipbone. The pause is unbearable, your entire body trembling, waiting.

Then he flicks the feather right across your clothed mound. A cruel, fleeting brush that makes your whole body jerk. 

“Mm. there it is,” he murmurs to himself, so low your clouded mind almost misses it. And he does it again, this time slower, circling, teasing, pressing barely enough for you to feel. And far not enough to satisfy.

Your thighs clench, straining against nothing, a broken noise slipping past your lips. 

“You sound pretty when you’re frustrated,” he teases, stroking the feather along the inside of your thigh, just shy of where you need it most. “Makes me want to keep this up all night.”

The feather returns to your core, skimming the center of your pubic bone.

Sylus hums low, pleased, leaning close so his words ghost across your ear. “You’re gonna lose your mind, sweetheart. And I’m gonna be right here, listening to every little sound you make for me.” His voice drips rough, reverent. “God, I love this. Love you like this.”

The feather moves upward, trailing over your belly, teasing circles around your navel before drifting higher—your chest rising in anticipation. 

“Oh? You want it here, don’t you?” He lets the plume trace your breast, circling wide and slow until your nipple stiffens. He grins against your cheek when you pant is quick breaths. “That desperate already? You’re even cuter like this. Makes me want to ruin you.”

He flicks the feather over your nipple, sharp and light, over and over. Your back arches, wrists straining in the ropes, your mouth parting in a silent O. 

But suddenly…

Everything stops.

The absence makes you whimper, mind reeling. Until you feel it. Something cold. Wet. Unexpected. Dabbed right onto your nipple, the chill biting through your heat.

“Sylus, what is—”

He cuts you off with a sinful laugh. “Couldn’t resist.” There’s a pause before he adds, “You’re too perfect not to taste.” 

His tongue laps up in a slow circle before he sucks your nipple into his mouth with a deep groan. Your hips buck uselessly— his mouth worships one breast, the plume teases the other, drawing lazy lines over the untouched tit.

“Whipped cream is extra-delicious on you, my love.” His voice is sticky-sweet.

And when he shifts lower, feather following his movement across the slope of your stomach, you freeze.

More cream, squirted directly across your belly, a sinful line that makes you gasp. Sylus hums, pleased, smearing it with the tip of the feather. He drips his head and licks. His tongue is hot, contrasting with the chill cream.

He moans into your skin, the sound vibrating through you. His taste bulb follows the trail, messy, greedy, lapping until you’re sticky, wet, marked by him. Then he blows a teasing breath over the wet skin, making you squirm harder.

“Think I should paint you with this?” his little laugh is… hungry. “Every inch… so I get to lick you clean.”

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 4.3k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, sylus refers to reader genitalia as ‘she,’ public sex, sex in an alley, standing/against the wall sex, finger sucking, choking, outdoor sex, voyeurism, needy sylus, drunk sylus, jealous sylus, use of pet names, mentions of guns, tiny bit of violence, cumming in coochie, panties over cummies

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | video (how sylus kisses you in this)

Luke and Kieran watch the way Sylus’s eyes track you under the strobing lights of the nightclub. It wasn’t out of the norm for their dear boss to be obsessed with knowing a certain Hunter’s whereabouts. But this was excessive, even for him.

The way he’d already shattered two glasses with the force of his fingers, his eyes scarily unblinking as they trailed your every movement. The club manager didn’t dare kick Sylus out, apologizing to him as he’d cleaned up the glass from Sylus’s feet. But Sylus was too distracted to even notice. 

The pair of troublemakers supposed it had to do with the fact that some sleezy drunk had his hands all over your bare thighs. They knew if Sylus had his way, that very man would be unconscious on the floor in half a second flat. But of course, when it came to you, Sylus was helpless as he was whipped, giving into your every desire, even if it physically pained him to do so.

And you had ordered Sylus not to intervene, not when you were undercover, trying to get classified information from the powerful men that frequented this very nightclub in the N109 zone. So he was left at the bar, quite literally fending thirsty women off left and right, watching the way you pretended to laugh amongst the unsuspecting targets. He tried to distract himself from the men who so clearly were thinking of ten different ways to fuck you. 

A privilege reserved only for him.  

So the twins, who had so enthusiastically begged to tag along, devised a plan to help Sylus take his mind off planning literal murder. 

Really, they were trying to help!

But maybe they should’ve stopped after the fifth drink. When Sylus’s cheeks flushed the same shade of red as his eyes, ebbing all the way up to the tips of his ears. 

And they definitely should’ve stopped after the tenth drink. When Sylus’s body started to move on its own accord, his Evol practically parting the crowd of drunk and sweaty clubbers to get to you.

But at that point there was no stopping the formidable man from taking what he wanted. And what he wanted, what he needed, was you. 

Honestly, you nearly breathe a sigh of relief when you feel Sylus’s familiar Evol wrapping around your wrist, yanking you backward and away from the disgusting man trying to feel you up. You’re so happy to feel his strong arms around you that you don’t notice how atypically clumsy his Evol feels, like grasping for something when blindfolded.

“We’re leaving.”

Sylus’s words are dominating and commanding, ‘no’ not even a fathomable possibility. But there’s a slight waver in his gruff voice that makes you raise your eyebrow at him in question.

The idiotic man before you wraps his clammy hands around your waist, pulling you back, “Hey man. We’re in the middle of something.”

You look up to see Sylus’s crimson eyes, trained on the way the man’s fingers dig into your bare skin, burning with something dangerous, the air around him crackling with an erratic and sinister energy, and you know you have to defuse the situation as quickly as you can. 

You bring your elbow to the man’s groin, digging hard. He groans pathetically, wilting to his knees. Truthfully, you didn’t have to elbow him that hard, but you’d become nauseated with how disgustingly he’d been looking at you, touching you, for the past thirty minutes. 

“No, we’re really not.”

With that, you slip into Sylus’s side, his large arm wrapping possessively around your naked shoulders, your hand resting on his abdomen. Sylus’s lips quirk up, deeply satisfied with the way you can bring men twice your size to their knees before they can even blink. His girl.

As the two of you make your way out of the crowd, you start to notice the way Sylus’s movements are unusually sluggish, his feet trudging one after the other. Considering Sylus was always poised and elegant, you instantly knew something was amiss. When Luke and Kieran fall into step behind you, you turn to the two masked men.

“What happened?!” you hissed at them, “What happened to ‘Watch Sylus? Easy peasy lemon squeezy?!’” Your fingers are raised in air-quotes as you recall their confident words and uncontrollable giggles when you’d tasked them with keeping Sylus in line, knowing he’d have a hard time watching you faux flirt with other men, no matter how self assured he was. 

Kieran is the first to speak, clearing his throat as the four of you exit the nightclub, the night air ruffling through your hair, “Well, you see –”

But he’s cut off when Sylus roughly grabs your chin, pulling your eyes up to his. 

“Hey. Look at me.”

Your eyes flicker to his, surprised by his demanding, yet needy, words. Sylus smiles when you look up at him, his eyes, as unfocused as they were, beaming down at you.

His rough fingers caress your cheek, burying his face into your hair, inhaling your intoxicating scent, “Beautiful.”

The scent of alcohol on his breath is so strong you nearly wince. Luke and Kieran seem to notice your realization at the same time, their eyes widening as you start to yell in disbelief.

“Is he drunk?!” you demand, your arms wrapping tighter around his waist, Sylus in a world of his own as he mutters incoherent mumblings into your hair, shifting his weight onto you.

The twins grin at you sheepishly, raising their hands in surrender. Luke speaks, “Well, in our defense, boss never gets drunk –”

“Yeah! Boss is such a heavyweight –”

“So we thought, a few drinks might loosen him up –”

“You should’ve seen him! He was thiiiiiis close to commiting a crime –”

“So really, you should be thanking us!”

The twins finish rattling off, looking at you with puppy eyes.

You sigh, unable to feign anger at them, “How many drinks did you give him?”

“Umm…what was it Kieran…like…eight?” Your eyes widen as they scratch their chins.

“No…no, it was definitely closer to…like twelve?”

“Well we also gave him those cute little drinks with the umbrellas, he seemed to really like those!”

“Yeah and they had little chunks of fruit in them! Maybe that cancels out the alcohol?”

“Yeah! And the one with the olives too! Plus, boss always drinks like a bottle of wine a night!

“So we thought…a few mixed drinks…couldn’t hurt anyone!”

Your head spins as you try to keep up with their conversation, digging through your purse to find the unopened half bottle of water you’d brought. You quickly unscrew it, bringing it up to Sylus’s lips. 

Sylus looks surprised when the cool plastic touches his lips, but once his hazy eyes focus on you again, he visibly relaxes. The sharp vermillion hues in his irises melt at the reflection of you, softening into the most beautiful carmine pools of red wine. 

His hands come over to cup yours, holding your fingers affectionately in his as you tilt the water back so he can drink. You have to tip toe upward so you can follow his grip, his gulps greedy and eyelids shut in relief, the sensation of your hand cupping his jaw feeling like his own personal heaven. 

With the plastic at his moistened lips, his eyes flutter open to look at you, his lids heavy with intoxication. Even though his eyes swim with a murky tiredness, they glow when they watch you, glimmering with a star-struck adoration. His intensity stares you down, a knowing heat piercing right through you. The very same heat that has seen both your naked body and soul.

The moment feels hot and strangely intimate. It definitely felt illegal to have Sylus looking at you like that while Luke and Kieran stood behind you. 

He’s so distracted by you, eyes never leaving yours, that nearly a third of the water splashes onto his chest and the pavement floor. He drinks so enthusiastically that you almost want to giggle at how submissive he looks, drinking so obediently from your hands, eyes following your every move. Fortunately the pair of whispers behind you remind you that, even if Sylus stares at you like he’s ready to mount you right then and there, you are not alone. 

When the bottle drains, he crumples it in one hand, tossing it to the nearest waste bin. 

As it hits the metal trash can, you tear your eyes away from the way Sylus heatedly watches you, turning back to Luke and Kieran, “Are you two insane?!”

The twins look positively offended.

“How did you even convince him to drink so much?” 

“Well, he was so distracted watching you that he just downed anything we put into his hands...” 

You bite your lip, realizing how difficult it must’ve been for Sylus to sit back and just watch. But he did it, for you. 

“Y/N.”

You try to ignore the way Sylus is stroking the bare skin of your shoulders, fingers coming dangerously close to your neck. His ruby eyes beg for your attention.

“Sylus might drink a lot, but he drinks wine –”

“Y/N.”

“Not hard alcohol! Look at how red he is! You guys, this was recklessly irresponsible!”

“Y/N.”

Sylus pulls you forcefully back into his arms, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse. Through the darkness of the night, you pray Luke and Kieran can’t see the way Sylus whispers into your ear.

“I need you.”

You fight the shiver that threatens to unleash through your unsuspecting body, his hot breath washing against your skin, the contrast of the brisk night air making you all the more sensitive. His fingers hold you in place, his hard body pressed into your own. 

You sigh, trying to brush the arousal away, “Let’s get you home, yeah? We can –”

He nips at your earlobe, eliciting a squeak from your lips as he gruffly demands, “Now.”

Before you can protest further, Sylus’s eyes direct to the twins in front of you, the pair of them snickering to themselves knowingly as he dismisses them, “We’ll meet you at home.”

–

You didn’t even make it to your car. 

Far from it, you found yourself pressed into the cold brickwall of a nearby alleyway, not fifteen feet from where Luke and Kieran had left the two of you. Sylus’s lips are latched onto yours in a furiously passionate embrace, his hands alternating between grabbing torridly at your waist and threading into the back of your neck, weaving into your sweat-dampened hair.

Your arms are wrapped around his neck for support against his torridly forceful kiss, his head tilted to the side to give him full access to your mouth, your lips, your tongue. 

He doesn’t even stop to breathe, opting to inhale your breath as his own. His tongue forcefully explores every inch of your open and willing mouth, and you struggle to keep up with his excitement. His fingers massage your neck, grabbing eagerly at every part of you he can reach. 

Sylus has always been passionate, but this was something else. It felt as if the alcohol in his blood amplified everything tenfold, leaving his cock thicker than ever against your shivering abdomen. His hands roam down your naked back, pulling at your waist again, pressing your body harder against his erection that leaks against his underwear. 

Sylus’s head tilts to the other side, your face moving opposite his to instinctively receive his unbridled passion. He cups the back of your head again, shielding you head from hitting the wall, the force of his kiss pushing you against it violently. 

He pulls away briefly, panting into you, his canines grazing into the soft skin of your ear, “You’re going to be the death of me, little dove.”

You want to question him, but his lips are back on yours in an instant, consuming you once more. His fingers grip your jaw so tightly, funneling all the emotions he’d held back, while watching you on the dancefloor with other men, into the way he holds you against the wall. Into the way he devours you.

He gives you a brief second of reprieve, pressing his lips into your neck, voice coming out husky and sulky, “I don’t enjoy seeing you with other men.” 

You gasp as he pushes you impossibly deeper into the wall, teeth simultaneously digging into the curve of your neck. Your fingers thread up into his hair, tugging to ground yourself as Sylus sucks your soft skin. 

“M-sooorry,” you slur, as if you’re the one who’s drunk, “B-But I got the information I – nnghn – needed.”

Sylus growls into your skin, “I knew you would. You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

His thumb presses against your bottom lip, eyes glazed over with a drunken hunger, “And you always have me at your mercy.”

It isn’t long before he has your back arched into his abdomen, the front of your sweat slicked body pressed into the cold alley wall, his cock buried in your wet gummy walls. Your panties are pushed messily to the side, your skirt hiked up to your waist. 

Sylus’s fingers are shoved into your mouth, claiming to try and minimize your sounds so passerbys don't hear the filthy things he was doing to you. In reality, he was just addicted to your sweet mouth wrapped around him.

His other hand holds both of your wrists, locking them against the small of your back, leaving you absolutely at the mercy of his thick cock ramming in and out of you.

“S-so damn beautiful,” Sylus is almost slurring, having gotten more drunk the longer the alcohol sat in his stomach. The acoustics of the dark alley made his body pounding against yours all the louder and more sinful. 

His thrusts are sloppy, the alcohol making it harder for him to maintain control. But that only serves to arouse you more, the sight of Sylus’s hazy eyes when you crane your neck back to see him, the sweat sticking to his flushed skin. 

You can only moan, the pads of his fingers pressing down into your tongue. The loud drunken giggles of people passing by make your eyes widen, but Sylus doesn’t stop, only going faster. 

“Never gonna let another man touch you, ever again,” he moans into your ear, as he ruts angrily into your g spot, his fingers pressing tiny bruises into the fat of your hips. He’s ten times handsier when he’s drunk, almost as if the alcohol makes his muscles itch, your body his fixation.. 

He spins you around suddenly, nearly making you lose your balance, his cock entering you just as quickly as it had slipped out. Sylus is desperate to see your beautifully hooded eyes, the faces you make when you come undone for him.

You grip the thick muscles of his neck, admiring his damp and exposed chest. The buttons of his shirt had been yanked open in the drunken shuffle, leaving little to imagination.

“H-Hey,” Sylus mutters, the faintest hint of a whine beneath his words, “Look at me.” His thrusts, sloppier than ever, never stopping.

You grin, despite how blissed out your mind is becoming, at his adorably needy behavior. As you let your eyes lose themselves in his, you stroke his jaw lovingly.

“Tell me,” he pants, his cock twitching as it presses insistently into your walls.

“Nngh — T-Tell you what Sy?” you coo breathlessly, nails digging into his sweaty skin, trying to distract yourself from the no doubt filthy brick wall pressing into your exposed back. 

“Tell me how I make you feel,” Sylus’s jaw tightens dangerously.

He thrusts especially hard and deep when you don’t respond, capturing your wrist and pressing it into the wall above your head, effectively trapping you against the wall, “Tell me.” 

You squeal, biting your lips, “Sylus! F-Feels s’good. N-No one else can — hng — make me feel like this!” 

Sylus’s glossy ruby red eyes flicker, his fingers finding your clit pressed against his pelvis, “Yeah? You love my cock, don’t you sweetheart?”

You want to smile at how adorably needy his words are, the alcohol fueling him with the rare desire to be validated. Instead you just nod vehemently as he plays with your clit, “I dooo!” 

Sylus grunts, struggling to breathe as you tighten around him. He grabs your cheeks in between his fingers, squeezing them firmly until your moans are muffled, “Shhh, we wouldn’t want someone to find us, would we little bird?” 

You nod obediently, but your body responds instinctively to his words, your abdomen fluttering in excitement at the thought of being caught in such a compromising position, with the revered leader of Onychinus no less. 

Sylus chuckles darkly, his every nerve receptive to your tiniest micromovements, and especially the excited way your pussy clamps down on his erection. His lips come down to kiss your jaw sweetly, contrary to the mean way he bullies himself into your cunt.

When he reaches the space beneath your ear he presses a tender kiss there, whispering huskily, “I can feel the way you’re tightening around me. Do you like the idea of someone watching us?”

Your eyes widen at him, and that’s all the answer he needs. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I would love to give them a show. Especially that man who had his hands all over you, hm? What was his name?”

“I-I d-don’t – hah – remember,” you wheeze, holding on as he bounces you into the wall, the sound of drunk bar patrons growing louder.

Sylus smiles darkly, his red eyes glowing in satisfaction, “Good girl. This pussy belongs t’me, hm?” His words come out in a purr, slightly sluggish with intoxication.

You can’t speak, opting to nod as eagerly as you can, your brain muddling against the pleasure of your joined bodies. Sylus chuckles at your wordless agreement.

“My precious dove…can’t even speak?” he coos, fingers still splayed out against your poor quivering clit, the wet sounds of his furious ministrations echoing throughout the dark alley. He leans in close to your ear.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. She’s so loud she might as well be answering for you,” he grins, clearly talking about your soaked and squelching pussy against his demanding thrusts. 

You’re about to retort when you hear another group of people passing by the alley. Your hands fly up to your mouth, forcing your uncontrollable moans away. Your eyes squeeze shut as the patter of feet gets closer and closer, fear and excitement taking over.

“Ah-ah,” Sylus tuts, “You know better than to hide your beautiful sounds from me.” Your eyes widen when his words sink in. 

Your hands fly to Sylus’s broad shoulders, but it’s too late to push him back. His hands find the globes of your ass, lifting you off the floor, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. At this angle Sylus can fully bounce you on his cock, using you however he wants. At this angle, the swollen tip brushes right into your cervix. At this angle, it’s physically impossible for you to muffle your cries. 

Your nails dig into the ropes of his shoulder muscles as you squeal. Sylus only grins as the sound of feet falter, right in front of the alley.

You try your best to whisper, “Sy-Sylus, please. Th-they’ll hear.” But it was pointless. Even if you could hold back your whimpers, the echo of his arousal dampened pelvis slapping against the space where your thighs met your ass bounced off the walls of the alley like a resounding bell. 

“You say that…” he murmurs, fingers coming back down to your clit, balancing you in just one arm, “But why is she getting so tight?”

He’s right, and there’s no denying it. Sylus is well acquainted with your body, knowing exactly what excites you, what you don’t like, what you love. 

The heavy footsteps gradually fade, likely too drunk to hear anything than the pounding of distant EDM music. Sylus hears you sigh in relief, releasing a bated breath, but your cunt stays as tight as ever around him. It drives him insane.

Nearly getting caught has only pushed both of you to the cusp of your orgasms. 

“Close, dove?” Sylus whispers into your ear, one hand pressed into the wall, the other bouncing you on his quivering cock.

Your head is thrown back as you nod, gasping for your next breath, “Y-Yes! So cloooose Sy!” At this point you don’t even care who could possibly hear you, only able to focus on the angry way Sylus’s cock twitching inside you, stroking your g-spot, begging to paint you white.

“M-Me too, Y/N,” Sylus’s uncharacteristic stutter, driven to madness by the alcohol and you, makes you clench down, hard. 

He hisses, hips stuttering, teeth clamping down on your shoulder, tongue subsequently coming out to lap at the space where he bit down, soothing your skin. 

The push of pain, the pull of pleasure, it’s just enough to tip you over, careening down the cliff of your orgasm. Your head falls back, eyes rolling with them, body fully preparing to show Sylus just how much you loved him. 

But Sylus has other plans, squeezing your cheeks in between his fingers, directing you to look at him. 

“Hey. Look at me, please.” 

His commanding words remind you that he’s very much still intoxicated, making him adorably needy for your attention.

When your eyes level with his, his red eyes sparkle happily, like a puppy getting its ears scratched, “Hello, my love. Show me, hm?” The duality of his lovable desperation and his downright malevolent plunges into your cervix blurs the lines between pleasure and reality, sanity and madness.

You nod eagerly, holding his intense eye contact, while you burst at the seams, spraying all over his still clothed abdomen. Sparks of white hot electricity travel through every one of your nerve endings while you cum on him.

Sylus gulps, in awe of the way you sing for him, shame thrown to the wind. If anyone were to walk by, they’d hear the way you screamed for his cock. Hear the way your body made him gasp for his next breath. How he grunts with each rope of cum that he dumps into your waiting hole, each sloppy pump filling his vision with bleary stars.

As he cums, he whispers brokenly into your ear, “C-Can never get enough. I love you, sweetheart.”  One of his big hands comes up to clamp around your throat, his fingers pressing down forcefully as he erupts inside of you. 

“Ngh…I love you Sylus,” you murmur against the pleasure of your constricted air flow, clinging to him, truly like an injured bird.

Sylus kisses your lips tenderly as you both come down from your highs, his fingers carefully laying your panties back in place. When he sets you on the ground, you nearly collapse, your legs quivering from the way they’d been locked around his waist. His arms are back around you in an instant, holding you steady. His cum flows out of you like literal tears, but you can only clamp your thighs shut and pray your pathetic soiled panties can catch the streams of his milky seed. 

He guides you carefully out of the alley, pressing affectionate kisses into the crown of your head as he holds your waist protectively. You’re so dazed you hardly notice that your skirt is still ridden up, until Sylus gently pulls it back down, smoothing the rumpled fabric with his large hands. 

The sounds of two far too familiar voices greet you when you emerge from the backstreet. 

“Are you guys finally done?” 

“Do you have any idea how long we’ve been waiting?!” 

Sylus groans, running his hand down his face, “Didn’t I tell you two to go back to base?” 

And though you’re thoroughly mortified at the idea of the twins having walked into your…situation, you can’t help but smile at the way Sylus handles Luke and Kieran. Like a father reprimanding his children.

“Well we did —”

“But then you guys didn’t come back for a while —”

“So we thought maybe something happened!” 

You shake your head at their frenzied explanation, the smile stretching on your lips as you watch the twins move their hands animatedly in their defense, “You guys are impossible.”

Luke gasps in exaggerated earnest, “How can you say that after what you’ve put us through?”

Kieran nods in agreement, shuddering dramatically, “Yeah! I feel like I just walked in on my parents…” 

“You two better watch yourselves before I confiscate your guns again,” Sylus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. But you can see the corner of his lips fighting an amused smile. 

Luke and Kieran simultaneously gasp, their reaction making it seem like Sylus was a father grounding his children, taking away their toys. You burst out into giggles, hugging Sylus’s side to keep warm as you watch the comical situation unfold. 

“There’s no need for you to do that, Sy,” you murmur, looking up at him, admiring the way the moonlight frames his face. Sylus peers down at you, his face softening, before nodding curtly.

The twins snicker. Luke uses his hand as a shield in front of his mouth to whisper to Kieran, pointing to Sylus behind it, “Whipped.”

You shoot them a smile, a deceptively innocent and sweet grin, “I’ll gladly confiscate them for you.”

There’s nearly a cartoon puff of smoke left behind when the twins scurry off, desperately clutching their holsters and begging for mercy. 

Sylus chuckles as he watches them run off, his arm slung over your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side as he presses a kiss into your forehead. 

“Truly a force to be reckoned with.” 

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.8k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, drunk mc and xavier, pre-established relationship (but not first time), public sex/voyeurism, sex on the dance floor, standing sex, fingering, dancing without leaving room for jesus, grinding, jealous!mc, not a content warning but xavier is wearing tight black shirt and jeans…….MMMMMM, unprotected sex, handjob through clothes

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | pics (how xavier and you make out in this)

The thumping beat of club music pounds in your ears, making it difficult to hear even your own thoughts. But you really didn’t care, too intoxicated and having too much fun dancing with Tara in a throng of sweaty club goers. 

The both of you had requested today off, wanting to see an up and coming DJ at the Linkon Lounge. You’d started the night off at your apartment, getting dolled up in your wispiest lashes and outfits that made you feel strong, confident, and beautiful. You’d shared a couple shots of tequila before slipping on your heels and scrambling out of your apartment, in a fit of tipsy and hushed giggles. 

Coincidentally enough, you ran into Xavier on your way out. Your blonde-haired partner was in the apartment lobby, grabbing his mail, when you and Tara bumped into him, literally. If it weren’t for Xavier’s quick reflexes, his forearm darting out to wrap around your waist, you definitely would’ve ended the night before it began, with an ice pack in your hand rather than a fruity drink. 

And that’s when Tara had invited Xavier out with you. Truthfully, you were sure Xavier would say no. The club definitely wasn’t his scene, and he undoubtedly had plans to have a cozy night in. But you were pleasantly surprised when he blurted out ‘yes’ before Tara could even get the words completely out. Tara knew Xavier wanted to come to keep an eye on you, and she was all too happy to play matchmaker. 

You hadn’t seen Xavier for what felt like at least fifteen minutes. You assumed he went off to the bathroom, or maybe to order some more drinks. Before long, you started to worry. 

“I’m gonna go look for Xavier! Will you be okay?” you practically scream over the music, pulling the side of Tara’s face to your mouth so she can hear you better. 

“I’ll be here!” she yells, pointing at her phone, “Text me if you can’t find me!” You nod, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

You push your way out of the crowd, apologizing profusely as you’re met with the displeased looks and groans of drunk patrons.

Eventually you make your way to the edge of the dancefloor, scouring the area for Xavier. You had a difficult time focussing your eyes, stumbling about, but did your best to look for the enigmatic Hunter. 

You quickly check the line at the bar before deciding to check the bathroom. It’s then you catch the glint of familiar platinum blonde hair, Xavier’s body leaned up against the wall near the public water fountains. 

You gulp at the sight of him, his head leaned back to rest against the wall, his hands folded across his chest. The musky sweat of the enclosed space made his black fitted t-shirt cling to his biceps, his skin glistening with sweat under the pulsing LED lights. 

Even from this far away, it’s clear Xavier is drunk. His eyes are hooded with intoxication, his throat bobbing with shallow breaths.

You’re about to approach him when the groups of people in front of you shift, and you see a girl latched onto Xavier’s bicep. The two look far too cozy, Xavier not doing anything to push her off as she speaks animatedly up at him, her eyelashes batting seductively. 

It’s not like you and Xavier were dating…but it was clear there was something deeply intertwined about the two of you. That, and the fact that you’d been intimate several times. But you had to admit, you’d never made things exclusive. 

You turn on your heel, thoroughly perturbed at the sight of Xavier with someone else, making your way back to where you’d left Tara.

You’d just broken into the crowd when a firm hand catches your wrist, stopping you from pushing further. You turn back sharply, ready to throw your fist back, only to be met with the sight of Xavier, in all his flushed and handsome glory. 

“Where are you going?” 

You fight the urge to smack him, jealousy a true green-eyed monster, instead just feigning ignorance, “What? I can’t hear you!” You gesture wildly with your hands to emphasize your point. You turn away from him, starting to tug your wrist away again when he pulls you back, hard. 

He twirls you effortlessly into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you, secure and unrelenting. You look up at him in question. He leans down, and your breath catches as his lips come an inch away from yours. But he doesn’t kiss you, instead whispering into your ear. 

“I asked where you were going. Didn’t you see me?” his breath is warm against your ear, the smell of alcohol invading your senses over the pounding music.

“You looked busy. I didn’t want to intrude,” you try to keep your voice level, but you can tell it comes out petty. You hope through the deafening music, Xavier can’t hear how sulky your voice is.

Xavier looks confused in his drunken state, but shouts into your ear, his tone genuine and endearing even amidst the music, “You’re never intruding.”

You sigh at his sweet words, tiptoeing up to speak to him and trying to be nice, “Who was your friend?”

Xavier looks even more bewildered for a second, before realizing the implications of your words, a lazy smile painting his features. He holds you close, one hand on the small of your back, the other coming up to touch your cheek. 

“Not my friend. She couldn’t find her friends and wanted to wait with me.”

You roll your eyes. Xavier was too sweet and unassuming for his own good.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

Xavier chuckles, “You don’t have to be jealous, I only have eyes for you.”

Your cheeks flare amidst the flush of alcohol on your cheeks at his words, and before you can speak Xavier is leaning down to kiss you. You squeak in surprise, but respond to his lips, kissing him back. 

Xavier kisses you slowly, gently, and tenderly. You can barely even hear the music around you, the musky people bumping into the pair of you. All you can feel is Xavier, lips on yours, his hands stroking your bare skin, his hardening erection against your stomach. 

He pulls away for air, his lips swollen and wet from your passionate kiss. Your ears pound in excitement at the way Xavier looks down at you, hungry and wanting more. You hook your arms around Xavier’s neck, pulling him down until your foreheads brush against each other.

“Dance with me,” you whisper loudly against the music. Xavier’s eyes shine with excitement, and he nods, his hands gripping your waist as you start to sway to the music. 

You turn around so you can watch the flashing lights, the alcohol making them look like a light show. You feel much bolder with the liquid courage running through your veins, so you grind back into Xavier, your rear molding perfectly against his crotch. 

Xavier hardens so quickly against your movements, your body feeling so perfect against his. The alcohol makes everything feel much more fluid and raw, his body responding excitedly.

He too is fueled by the courage of intoxication, his hands roaming from your hips to your stomach, just above the fat of your cunt. He can feel the way you shiver at his touch, and he decides to dare further. 

His strong hands wander up, until they cup your breasts through your sheer dress. He rests his chin on your shoulder, whispering into your ear.

“Is this alright?” 

You crane your neck backwards to nod at him, eyes flickering to his lips. Xavier leans in to kiss you again, one hand still playing with your nipple, the other reaching up to hold your throat against him gently. The two of you kiss so passionately, so messily, that you hardly notice the crowd of equally drunk and horny people around you. 

As you kiss him, your hand comes backward to cup the back of Xavier’s head, grabbing at his soft blonde locks. Your body continues to rock sensually into him, relishing in the way his hard erection sits between the slit of your ass.

Looking up at him through your wet eyelashes, you whisper, “M-More. I want more.”

Xavier groans, looking around, trying to find the quickest way out of the crowd. But you can’t wait, too aroused by the way Xavier’s shirt clings to his muscles, the way his cock fights against his jeans, straining to be with you.

The alcohol dares you to be bolder than you normally would ever be. You grab his wrist, bringing it down to the hem of your minidress, guiding his fingers to slip under it. 

You can feel Xavier stiffen behind you, eyes darting around to make sure no one is watching. But he quickly realizes quite literally no one cares about the two of you, too focussed on the music, too focussed on their own partners, to even spare you a glance.

So he follows your lead, his hands roaming under your dress, digging into your soft thighs. You moan into his ear, your head laid back on his shoulder.

With his palm so close to your cunt, you grind right into his open hand, wanting more friction, more of him. Xavier groans at your enthusiasm, quickly forgetting about the people that are packed around you like sardines. He feels something damp against his fingers, making him all the more desperate to have you. 

“You’re wet,” Xavier whispers sluggishly into your ear, “Is this all for me?”

You groan at his words, your muscles twitching with anticipation. You try and look at him, the back of your head still resting on his thick shoulder. Your hand grasps at the back of his neck, forcing his eyes to drift down to you, the azure blues flickering to your lips before they come back to your gaze.

“Touch me, please.”

Even under the strobing lights of the club you can see Xavier’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening. His eyes flutter shut as he leans down to kiss you.

At the same time, his finger gingerly dips into your folds, moving your panties to the side. At first he just rubs up and down with his middle finger, enjoying the way you moan into his mouth. But it becomes far too unbearable, not being inside you.

He slowly dips his middle finger inside of you, hissing when your little hole sucks him in tightly. 

“Is this okay?” Xavier asks, wanting to make sure you’re alright. Your eyes dart around lazily, making sure no one can see Xavier’s hands underneath your dress. 

You nod, your eyelashes fluttering shut as Xavier starts to pump in and out of you. The energetic music makes everything feel more surreal, only the occasional jostling of people bumping into the pair of you reminding you of exactly where you are. 

Xavier’s index finger finds its way inside you, his thumb rubbing at your slippery clit. He alternates his free arm between shielding you from people pushing as they pass by, and cupping your breast through your dress. In all your writhing, your ass continues to grind against Xavier’s cock. Under his jeans, he’s leaking so profusely that your body rubs around the slick, creating a sticky mess. 

Xavier pumps inside you, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him, the feeling of risk and wrong. 

“Please – Please don’t stop,” you pant, looking up at him with starry eyes.

The look of complete and utter bliss on your gorgeously flushed face makes Xavier bite his lip, “I’ll never stop, angel.”

You clench down hard on his fingers at the endearing pet name, one he so rarely called you. It makes you writhe against his hot and hard body, pressed firmly into you, like a puzzle piece.

With your back still turned to him, you reach your hand back to where his bulge presses into you. With careful hands, you cup the massive swell of his manhood, biting your lip when he moans into your ear, teeth grazing against your earlobe. 

You rub him enthusiastically through his jeans, enjoying the way he writhes under your touch, his cock straining through the tight restraint of his pants. 

“You’re evil,” Xavier groans, pressing kisses into your neck, trying to contain the moans he wants to make for you.

You lean your head back, staring at him through hooded eyes, “Should I stop?”

Xavier holds you tight, almost crushing you, to keep you from stopping.

“No. Never.”

You giggle, turning back to the club stage, watching the DJ perform, hands finding their way back to Xavier’s crotch. His pants are heavy and breathy by your ear, fingers scissoring in and out of you furiously.

Soon enough, the feeling of just your plush body against his isn’t enough anymore. He needs more.

With his fingers never pausing, he asks, his voice smooth and sultry, “I need to be inside of you, is that okay?” 

“Please,” you whisper huskily, grinding against his fingers, “I want you.”

You can feel Xavier shifting behind you, pulling out his cock. He feverishly pulls your panties down just slightly, so that they rest under your cheeks. He lifts your dress, enough to give him access but making sure you’re still covered. He would rather die than let anyone see your precious body. 

As the music comes to a peak, the beat building alongside your release, Xavier slips his erection into you. You’re thankful for the heavy bass of the drop because you quite literally cannot hold back the scream that rips from your lips as he pushes himself into the hilt.

One of his hands travels from your waist to under the front of your dress. When he finds your clit, he pinches down hard.

“You’re so cute,” Xavier hisses into your ear, picking up his pace, “Were you jealous earlier?”

“N-No! Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout,” you whimper, your fingers gripping the arm he has buried between your legs. 

“Mmm,” Xavier hums, clearly not convinced, “That’s alright, Y/N. You have nothing to be jealous of, ever.”

“I-I’m not – I wasn’t!” you gasp, forcing the words together as Xavier’s cock nearly finds its way into your throat. But at this point you knew he could see right through you.

“Would travel through time and space for you,” he murmurs, words full of a boundless affection, “I only see you.”

He puts all that same adoration and passion into the way he fucks up into you, holding you protectively in place, making sure no one so much as brushes against you. 

Your moans are strangled when his cockhead angles into your g-spot, cutting off the drunken confessions on the tip of your tongue. Xavier’s girth was always something you had a hard time getting used to, and taking him standing was infinitely harder. Your inner thighs burned with the strain of how fully he stretches you out.

Xavier’s hand comes over to cover your mouth, his smile pressed against your throat. The alcohol makes Xavier irregularly chatty, his inhibitions lowered completely, “You’re so loud. Does it feel that good?”

Your eyes are rolled back mesmerized by the flashing lights, unable to discern what comes from the nightclub’s light show and what comes from the pleasure of Xavier’s poignant thrusts. You do your best to nod, your teeth sinking into Xavier’s palm to keep yourself conscious. 

You’re nearly doubled over now, your jelly legs unable to hold you up, with only the support of Xavier’s strong hand against your cunt and his other arm wrapped around your chest. He holds you up as securely as he can, his own intoxication growing having not drank any water since you’d arrived at the club. 

“Are you okay?”

Xavier’s head snaps up to see a club patron in front of you, a concerned look on his face as he  kneels down to be eye-level with you. Xavier squick readjusts to make sure you’re covered.

Your eyes widen, trying to straighten up, “F-Fine!” You nearly scream as Xavier continues to thrust into you, his movement much more conspicuous but somehow more intense. 

“Are you sure? You don’t look so good.” 

You want to be kind, but you can really only focus on the way Xavier continues to fuck you, not even caring that the good Samaritan in front of you was this close to realizing what was happening. The fact that you were still very much drunk did not help.

“N-No, I’m fine,” you squeak, eyes rolling back when Xavier hits your g-spot. You can’t see him but you just know he’s enjoying the position he has you in. He smirks in satisfaction, grinding into your ass, his thick length nestling into your every nerve. 

The man looks skeptical, especially at your unfocused hooded eyes, “Do you want some water?”

He’s about to reach out to touch you, when Xavier yanks you back, both arms wrapped protectively around you, “She’s fine.”

At Xavier’s harsh tone, the man recoils, looking up, almost as if he’s just noticing Xavier. He nods awkwardly before disappearing into the crowd. 

Xavier resumes his vigor, kissing your neck and whispering, “Mine.”

“Now look who’s jealous,” you giggle languidly, gasping when Xavier drives into you harder.

“Not jealous. It’s just the truth,” he murmurs, tilting your head back to kiss you, fingers back on your clit.

His tongue explores your mouth excitedly, your pleasures quickly reaching a peak after coming close to being caught. Your body convulses around him, wanting him to push you into the oblivion of ecstasy. 

“Always so tight,” Xavier groans, “I-I won’t last long like this…”

You squeal, your sounds drowned out by the vibrating music, “Ngh – me too Xavier.”

“G-Gonna cum,” Xavier gasps as your cunt strangles him, ripping away from your lips and panting for air. 

You crane your neck back to look at him, your eyes wide with wonder and desperation. The blissed out look on your beautiful face makes Xavier groan, his hips stuttering into his climax.

“Cum for me, Xavier,” you beg, impossibly close as well, “Want to feel you.”

Xavier shuts his eyes, his body following your every command. His cock explodes inside you, filling you with a hot warmth that spreads all the way to your fingertips and toes. Xavier doesn’t speak as he cums, only suckling hungrily at your neck, moaning and whimpering into your bruised skin.

He keeps thrusting into you, even as his cum starts to leak out of your hole, wanting you to come undone too. Even when the overstimulation starts to border on pain, he refuses to stop.

His cum makes it so there’s zero resistance, only the pure pleasure of his cock against your throbbing gummy walls. Soon, you’re cumming too, screaming into the pulsating music, your climax crescendoing with the drop of the song. The symphony of it all, the alcohol, the threat of being caught by any one of the dozens of people around you, makes it one of your most intense orgasms yet. 

Your body instinctively clenches down as you release, making you cream all over Xavier, a mix of both your arousals. Xavier watches in awe at the beautiful way you cum, for him. It’s enough to make him pump a few more ropes into you, even as his dick throbs sharply in protest. 

Xavier hugs you to his chest tightly, holding onto you for support as his cock quivers inside you. You can feel his chest heaving against your back, shifting as he slips out of you and redoes his zipper. Xavier puts your panties back into place, pressing a faint trail of kisses along your shoulders. 

Suddenly, the crowd feels suffocating and icky and you desperately want to be somewhere quieter with Xavier. You pull him out of the crowd, nudging throngs of drunk and horny patrons out of the way as you make your way to the bar. Xavier follows you sluggishly, his fingers barely closing over yours as you guide him out..

When you reach the bar, you order a water and turn to Xavier worriedly, cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“Xavier,” you urged, “Are you okay?”

Xavier’s eyes flutter open, his eyes slightly rolled back, “M’okay. Just sleepy.” You giggle, patting his face gently, realizing the haze in his eyes is a mix of intoxication and post-sex bliss. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re always so sleepy. Especially after…”

Despite Xavier’s eyes remaining closed, he smiles and mumbles as he leans against the wall next to the bar, “Can’t help it. You drain me.”

You blush furiously, despite it being loud enough where no one can hear you two. The bartender hands you a glass of water, and you bring it up to Xavier’s lips. Xavier’s eyelids flicker open, his long eyelashes fluttering as he takes in his surroundings again, like he’s so intoxicated off the alcohol and you that he can’t make sense of his bearings.

You take his chin into your palm, tilting him up gently so the water doesn’t spill. Xavier drinks obediently, not letting a single drop go to waste. His position against the wall makes it so that you tower a few inches over him, so he has to look up at you through his eyelashes. With each gulp of the icy water he never breaks eye contact with you, staring at you with all the awe and devotion in the world.

His hands gently grip your wrists, nuzzling into your hand. The way he watches you makes you want to squirm, his eyes glimmering under the flashing lights. His azure eyes feel like they hold the weight of an entire galaxy, but in reality it’s the reflection of you that makes his eyes sparkle with the brilliance of the stars.

“Hey! There you two are!” 

You whip your head around to see Tara excitedly hurrying over to you as Xavier finishes the last of the water. 

You turn to her, “Tara! I’m sorry, I found Xavier but then we got…caught up.”

She smiles and shakes her head. There’s a knowing  mischief in her eyes, as if she doesn’t believe you, “It’s alright! I made some friends.”

She looks at Xavier. Even though you no longer hold up the empty glass to his lips, he still stares at you with the same starstruck look, a post-orgasm mist over his entire face.

“Why does he look like that?”

Your cheeks burn and you scramble to find an excuse, “Oh, he’s fine! He’s just drunk. And sleepy. Very sleepy.”

Tara grabs your chin, tilting it up in a squint, inspecting you. You’re about to ask what’s wrong, if maybe your false eyelashes came off, but when you look down at your shoulder you see exactly what she’s looking at.

A bright red, purpling bruise. In the exact shape of Xavier’s lips.

“Oh, I bet he’s sleepy.”

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.7k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, drunk zayne, needy zayne, jealous zayne, couch sex, booby sucking, pretty vanilla tbh, slightly sub zayne, zayne begs a lot, prone bone, doggy, choking, making out, cumming in coochie, mentions of birth control usage, zayne is a lightweight

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | video | art (credit to @roschea-arts)

You stumble into your apartment, nearly tripping over the threshold as Zayne’s heavy arm slumps over your shoulder for support. You kick your heels off, briefly bending down to slip Zayne’s shoes off, before you lead him to sit on your couch.

“Sit here while I get some water for you, okay?” you whisper worriedly against Zayne’s nearly unconscious face, pressing a kiss to his heated and clammy temple. Zayne doesn’t respond, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a shallow breath, nodding gently.  

Well, this was definitely not how you’d expected tonight to go.

When you’d invited Zayne as your date to the annual UNICORN hosted Hunters’ Association Banquet, you expected it to be a relatively uneventful night. You never expected your raven-haired surgeon boyfriend to get drunk. In fact, you’d never seen him so much as tipsy since you’d known him. 

And that was something Zayne intentionally made sure of; alcohol was not something he indulged in, ever.

Except when you’re so busy socializing all night that he gets unbearably bored, curious, and desperate for your attention.

So that’s how he ended up absolutely plastered off two cocktails. In his defense they were deceptively fruity and sweet, the rims coated in thick crystals of sugar. Truly his kryptonite. 

So when Zayne grabs your wrist while you’re talking to a fellow Hunter, spinning you gently to his hard chest, you’re completely taken aback. 

“Apologies. Can I steal my girlfriend for a moment?”

Your colleague, standing before the both of you, looks flustered at Zayne’s commanding voice, nodding fervently before he turns to leave. His face is pale, not realizing you’d brought a guest to the banquet, much less a guest that looked as handsome and imposing as Zayne. You whip around, eyebrows raised, to face the surgeon in question.

His face is uncharacteristically red, the tips of his ears burning so adorably bright. The first few buttons of his shirt had been undone, the collar disheveled, like he’d pulled at it until the enclosures gave way. What’s more, the tension that colored his words, alarming and unusual. 

“Zayne? What’s wrong?” you reach up to touch his cheek worriedly, gasping at how warm his normally chilly skin was, “Are you not feeling well?” 

Zayne releases your wrist, instead capturing your hand on his jaw with his own palm, pressing you deeper into his cheek. He practically purrs into your touch, nuzzling into your hand warmly. 

“You feel nice.” His voice is low, almost a rough whisper against the cheerful laughter of the night. 

It was very unlike Zayne to be so blatant with his affections, especially in front of either of your colleagues. In this case, the packed banquet hall of UNICORN’s annual Hunter’s banquet, filled with curious and nosy onlookers, peering at the two of you embracing in the middle of the party.

Perhaps the bustling activity became too overwhelming for Zayne, especially given that you had been pulled every which way to discuss your recent mission successes. You’d hardly had a chance to make sure he was doing okay. 

“Did you want to leave? I can —” 

Zayne pulls you closer to him until your bodies are pressed together tightly, his slender fingers holding your waist in place. You squeak in surprise, blushing as you try to ignore the prying eyes of your colleagues as Zayne strokes your cheek, fingers playing with your loose strands of hair.

“Who was that?” Zayne’s voice is deceptively calm against the top of your head as he breathes in your familiar scent, masking the demand and restraint lurking just below the surface. Your pheromones calm him down slightly, making him feel much more at ease.

“Who was who?” 

Zayne bends down to reach your ear, his normally calm and stoic voice much more shaky than usual, “That man, who was making you laugh. He seemed friendly.” 

Zayne’s words tickle your ear, making you shiver. It’s then you can smell the alcohol on him, as he leans down to whisper in your ear, the bitter scent of vodka mixing with the faint smell of his cologne. Suddenly the questions of his irregular behavior clicked. 

You lean back to look at him in shock, “Zayne?! Are you drunk?” 

Zayne looks sheepish, his hazel eyes still intense, “No. I don’t – hic – don’t think so.” 

You want to laugh at his incriminating hiccup, the surgeon undoubtedly intoxicated. That fact is only confirmed to you when you tip-toe up to peck his lips and taste the bittersweet trace of alcohol on him. 

“You were so busy, I got curious and decided to...indulge. Just this once,” Zayne admits, his eyes never leaving yours as he holds you close. 

You don’t speak, in shock at the way his words are slightly whiny and sulky all at once, something you never heard from Zayne. Zayne was never one to be jealous, and much less to actually show that jealousy. 

Zayne’s eyes lower, glowing at you in a soft regret, “I’m sorry.” 

You giggle, resting your head on his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. For that brief moment, you forget all about the watchful eyes around you, only able to focus on the man you loved before you.

“How many drinks did you have?”

He pauses, looking genuinely deep in thought as he tries to recall the night, “Two, no…maybe three.”

You grin wordlessly. Zayne never drank, so he was undoubtedly a lightweight, that was no surprise. But you would’ve thought it would take more than three drinks to knock the formidable man off his ass. 

Zayne’s jaw clenched as he admires how beautiful you look tonight, his wandering alcohol-fueled desires pushing him to want to see much more, “Would it be alright if we called it a night?”

You nod, peering up at him, “Of course, are you not feeling well from the alcohol?”

Zayne averts his eyes, clearing his throat. His neck bobs against his undone collar, his tie hanging loosely around his chest. 

“I’m alright. I just…want to be alone with you.”

By the time you arrived at your apartment, Zayne had gotten considerably more drunk, the alcohol being further absorbed into his bloodstream. 

You hurriedly bring him a cool glass of water, standing in between his thighs, over his limp body. Zayne’s head is thrown back against the cushion of your couch, already having yanked off his suit jacket and tie, the articles of clothing strewn over the arm of the seat, his neck and collar exposed. His snowy pale skin is splotched red, practically radiating a wave of heat.

Your fingers cup his sharp jaw, tilting his chin up, shifting to hold his heavy head in the palm of your hand, stroking his cheek lovingly. Zayne’s eyes flicker up to yours as you tilt him up, his glasses slightly fogged up from the heated crimson flush on his cheeks. His eyes light up when they meet yours, his eyelashes fluttering as he fights to keep his eyes open. You bite your lip, trying to keep your wide smile at bay. He looked so utterly adorable like this, looking up so affectionately obedient like this. 

You bring the glass gently up to his lips, encouraging him to drink. Zayne obeys, lips latching onto the edge of the cup as you tilt it forward, gently nudging his chin upwards with your other hand. 

His eyes flutter open at the feeling of your touch, his golden emerald irises trained solely on you as he drinks, refusing to look away. He’s so focussed on you that dribbles of water stream down his chin as he gulps down the entire glass, falling onto his collar. 

His eyes never leave yours as he chugs the entire glass of refreshing water, the whites of his eyes shining in the dim lighting of your apartment. If anyone else saw the way Zayne looked at you, they’d swear they could see hearts reflected in them as he drank from your hands. He looked at you as if his entire world spun around you, the center of his universe. 

When you pull away, Zayne’s eyes still don’t leave yours. Instead, they appear to become more intense, more fiery. 

“Zayne? Do you want more water?”

He doesn’t answer. You’re too distracted by the incensed pools of peridot when Zayne yanks you onto his lap, lips capturing yours hungrily.

–

“Ngh – Zayne!” you moan, pulling away from his demanding and bruising lips. Zayne grants you a brief break to breathe, but his fingers firmly hold your hips in place atop his erection that strains against his buckled pants, the two of you nestled deep into the couch cushion. 

He gives you a second before he’s yanking your chin towards him again, soft mouth crushed against yours in an instant. Your lips are captured gently between his teeth, his hunger for you insatiable. The taste of alcohol is still faint on his tongue, and he wants nothing more than to overwhelm himself with the taste of you. 

You’re completely engulfed by him, the ferocity of his mouth against yours, the warmth of his breath against your tongue. Zayne’s jaw alternates, side to side, trying to give himself the best access to you he can possibly get. The cool touch of metal grazes against your cheeks, his glasses pressing against you in the vigor of his embrace. He groans in frustration into your mouth, forcing himself to briefly pull away.

Before you can even question him, he’s yanking his misted up glasses off by the temples, tossing them onto your coffee table without a second glance, without a single care. His eyes are hooded with desire, his glasses no longer obstructing you from him. They shut sensually when he leans back in, lips parting as his glasses clatter louding against the table. 

He says nothing, smashing his lips into yours once again. You can vaguely feel the distinct bump of his nose, pressing into your skin, when he grabs the back of your head, pulling you harder against his all consuming hunger. 

His tongue is unbelievably tender against yours, despite how urgently and desperately he devours you. His fingers press into the divots of your arched back, his arms are completely wrapped around you, bringing you into an affectionate embrace as he continues to consume you whole. His fingers stroke up and down the half exposed expanse of your back, enjoying how soft you feel against his big hands. 

You grind down onto his cock as you try and match his passion, your panties sticking to your soaked folds. Your thighs are spread so widely against his legs, that the dampness smears against his dress pants, your dress doing little to hold anything back. 

Zayne hisses at the delicious pressure, lips leaving yours to gasp into your ear, his hot breath caressing the sensitive skin. 

“D-Don’t,” he gulps deeply, alcohol and anticipation making him trip over his words, “Unless you're willing to take responsibility for the consequences.”

You shiver at his words, leaning in to kiss his reddened earlobe, “And if I am?”

And that’s how you find yourself naked, sweaty, and writhing on your back, under the pressure of Zayne’s half naked body on top of you, his cock ravaging every inch of your poor cunt.

Zayne is a mumbling and moaning mess above you, droplets of sweat beading on his bright red temples, his damp hair dangling below his forehead. His unbuttoned dress shirt flies wildly, his thick muscles twitching every time his lower half drives into you like a madman. If it weren’t for the sweat lining your back, you’d undoubtedly be pushed around the couch like a ragdoll under Zayne’s furious passion.

You can barely see Zayne’s eyes, his dangling bangs obscuring much of his frantic face. You do your best to sit up, your chin on your chest, watching the way Zayne’s glistening body jackhammers into you, his rhythm erratic and desperate. 

Trying not to drool, you watch his abdominal muscles twitch, his briefs and dress pants hanging off his hips. He’d been so eager to bury himself inside of you that he didn’t even take off his clothing, instead pulling his cock out from under the top of the waistband of his briefs. It’s so heavy and thick with excitement that the restraint of his brief’s waistband is no match for it.  

“M’sorry,” Zayne mumbles, so slurred you barely even hear it through the clinking of his undone belt, hanging off his waist.

“Wh-what?” you pant, tugging at the sweat-soaked shirt that clings to his back. 

“Didn’t mean to get so intoxicated,” he pants breathlessly, almost sounding guilty, “I’m sorry.”

Your heart clenches at the vulnerability shining in his eyes. You know he’s not used to letting himself feel his emotions like this, to really give into his needs and desires.  

“Zayne, don’t apologize,” you whimper through the pleasure, stroking his cheek, “You’re allowed to let go sometimes.”

Your words nearly make Zayne snarl, his pelvis slapping into your ass, his hands elevating hips, your thighs wrapped tightly into his sides. 

“You’re so good to me,” he rasps, eyes rolling back as his praises make your body instinctively clench down, “I–I love you.”

“A-ahh nghn – love you s’much Zayne,” you squeal as he thrusts even deeper into you, his confession only increasing the passion he feels for you in the drunken moment. 

You’re surprised when you feel his damp hair pressing against your forehead, his cool lips brushing a soft kiss onto it, deceptively gentle compared to the way he ravages your wet heat.

“M’always thinking about you,” Zayne moans, voice muffled as he kisses your forehead over and over, unable to keep his lips, his hands, off of you. 

“I think about y’too Za–ayne,” you pant, trying to focus on forming coherent words through the shape of his erection being molded into your core. You knew just how vulnerable the fog of alcohol had made Zayne and wanted more than anything to reassure him.

But his cock stretching you out, nearly the width of a clenched fist, made that so difficult. 

“You looked – you look ravishing tonight,” he slurs, kissing down your cheek and onto your neck, “Had a hard time tonight, watching you – hic – be the most beautiful girl in the room.” 

Your chest flutters and you blush, clenching onto him, “H-Hardly.” 

Zayne’s eyebrows furrow, giving you a pointed thrust, making your breasts jiggle at the force, “Look at what you do to me.” 

His fingers cup your breast forcefully, squeezing down on your poor nipple, “You know I’m not one for jealousy…”

“But even I am not immune when you look like that, giving everyone but me your attention.” 

“Sorry, my love,” you murmur, trying your best to speak through his frantic thrusts, “You know you’re the one I come home to at the end of the day.” 

Zayne’s eyes darken with satisfaction, his fingers twirling your nipple in between them, “I suppose. But does that give you the right to let men flirt with you shamelessly all night?” 

“Zayne, they weren’t —” But apparently protesting was a mistake, because Zayne only starts to hammer into you harder.

“They were,” he growls drunkenly, letting his emotions take control for a split second, “But I can’t really blame them, not when you look like this. Not when you feel this perfect around me.”

You whine at his words, his simultaneous threats and praises making it impossible for you to think straight. 

“I-I’m soorry,” you find yourself apologizing, wanting to please Zayne, “Won’t do it again, I’ll b-be good!”

“No need to – hah – apologize, my love,” Zayne groans, “Not when I plan on reminding you exactly who you belong to tonight, all night.”

Your body convulses around him, knowing just how much stamina Zayne has, just how serious his slurred words are. Zayne’s hips falter, his body buckling into you.

“You’re s-oo tight,” he groans brokenly, letting his head fall down to your chest, “All for me, right? 

“Allll f’you! Only you!” you cry, your fingers gripping onto the back of his shirt when his teeth close over your nipple, nibbling gently. You claw at his back, desperately wanting to be able to touch his bare skin, but his white dress shirt is in the way. 

“That’s my girl,” he moans, words muffled by the way his tongue circles around your hardened peaks, suckling like he was trying to find the antidote to intoxication, “So good for me.” 

As his thrusts grow sloppier, you know he’s coming close to his end. But you’re surprised when he pulls out suddenly, leaving you feeling empty. 

“W-Why?” you demand, leaning up on your elbows in protest. Your eyes widen, almost salivating, when you see the way Zayne is gripping the base of his cock, the thick head red, angry, and ready to burst. He curses, forcing himself to take deep breaths, desperately trying to hold his orgasm back. He was learning that alcohol significantly decreased his normally endless supply of stamina. 

“Don’t want to – ngh – finish yet,” he pants, hooking his arm under your back and flipping you over so that your back faces him, your hips arched slightly off the couch. He quickly takes off his pants that are pooled by his knees, his briefs still clinging to his muscled thighs.

You squeak in surprise when you feel the wet smack of Zayne’s cock against your ass, the surgeon hissing at the painful yet arousing sensation. The sting helps to keep him from exploding right onto your beautiful body. 

“Ngh – Zaaayne!” you squeal when Zayne shoves himself back into you, parting your cheeks to give himself better access. You claw at your couch as he picks up his speed, rhythm still unsteady.

“I’m sorry,” Zayne apologizes, his words bordering on frenzied babbles as he pounds into you, his heavyset balls slapping against your clit, “M’sorry, love. Let me make it better.”

He leans down, pressing a trail of kisses down your spine, his pelvis rippling against your rear. His veiny forearms cage you into the couch, his foot lifting to step onto the cushion, right by your waist. With his leg raising as leverage, he can truly jackhammer into you.

Zayne goes absolutely feral in this position, his fingers coming up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging gently as he bounces up and down on your ass. The sounds of skin against skin, drunken moans, and moist squelches resounds like a symphony in the early morning lighting of your apartment. 

His grasp tightens in your hair, his other hand kneading the plush of your ass as it ripples against his thrusts. His voice lowers, throwing his head back with a moan, “Been waiting all night to have you like this.”

“Oh-oh God!” you cry when he thrusts into you, particularly hard and deep, making you see stars, “Zayne I-I can’t – I’m so close!”

Zayne hoists you onto all fours, gently lifting your upper body by your neck so that you’re pressed firmly against him with your knees holding you up. He kneels behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other secures your neck against his chest.  

“Me too, angel,” Zayne pants into your ear, his breath hot and moist. You can feel the truth in his words, his thighs shaky against yours, his thrusts erratic. 

“Please, let me cum in you,” Zayne rasps. 

“When have I ever denied you?” you respond. Zayne came inside you nearly every time you two were intimate, ever since you’d started birth control. 

“It’s a waste, if it’s not inside you,” Zayne slurs, “You’ll take it, right?”

When you don’t respond, too wrapped up in the bliss of it all, Zayne’s hand descends to pinch your nipple. The power of his thrusts, the tease of his hands, his aura. He commands authority,

“Tell me you’ll take it all, for me.”

“I will, I will! P-please Zayne, give it to me!”

Zayne groans, grip tightening against your body, hugging you for dear life, “That’s my girl, that’s it, just like that. 

Zayne has always been vocal, but his drunken ramblings have taken it to another level. You clench down, ready to come undone to the sound of his filthy praises. 

Zayne is close behind you, hands kneading your breasts, balls slapping against your clit, “It’s coming Y/N, take it. Take it for me, please.”

You scream in response, cunt spasming around the last of his messy ruts. Zayne’s own strangled groans mix with the sound of wet flesh slapping against each other. You can feel every beautiful ribbon of white hot cum painting your insides, coating every inch of your waiting womb.

Zayne’s skin often felt ice-cold, but his cum always came out so hot and heedy. And now, with the flush of alcohol still clouding his circulation, his milky ropes of seed nearly made you feverish.

Zayne slumps against you, his body spent, drained bone-dry. The weight of him against your quivering muscles is too much, and your thighs give out, sending you crashing into the couch. He catches you before you can slam face-first into the carpeted floor.

He sets your limp body gently into the couch, shrugging off his white button-up.

“Zayne,” you murmur groggily, savoring the image of his muscles peaking through his open shirt, “Come cuddle.”

The corner of his lip twitches, “I will, sweetheart. Let me clean you up first.”

Using the clean inside of his shirt, he carefully wipes off the slick that collects at your inner thighs, before it can pool onto the couch. Your legs are putty in his hands, Zayne cleaning you with the utmost care and tenderness. 

When he’s done, he settles beside you on the couch, shifting you so that your neck rests on his forearm. He holds you close with one arm, the other drawing lazy circles into your stomach.

Zayne turns his head to the side, pressing a kiss into your temple, “Thank you. For taking care of me tonight.” 

You can tell by Zayne’s calm and steady tone that he’s sobered up quite a bit from the orgasm, the control returning to his deep timbre. 

You giggle, nuzzling deeper into his arm, the hairs of his underarm tickling your shoulder, “I hardly did anything.” In the comfortable silence, your eyes start to flutter closed.

“You did more than you know,” Zayne whispers, the tender smile in his voice unmistakeable. You simply nod, muttering incoherently as you fall into a deep and sated slumber.

“You are everything.”

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.9k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, car sex, publix sex/slight voyeurism, sex while pulled over in da passenger seat, bottom raf, riding, face sitting, rafayel is a MUNCH, oral f!receiving, jealous raf, drunk rafayel, protective rafayel, somewhat mentions of violence, unprotected sex, no pull out ever

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | pics 1 | pics 2 (both rafayel's car)

The night road ahead of you is peacefully calm, the drive back to Rafayel’s house a peaceful and scenic trip. There's very few cars beside yours, well Rafayel’s, on the main roads back, likely because it was close to 2am. 

You were honestly having way too much fun driving Rafayel’s car, thoroughly enjoying the purr of the beautiful Benz. You didn’t have the opportunity to drive many cars, let alone a Gran Turismo.

Your fingers tap gently along the rim of the steering wheel, admiring the elegant LED lights that kept you awake. Rafayel had the car’s interior lights set to a blushed lavender color, ever since you’d said it was your favorite setting. It reminded you of the pink in his cotton candy eyes. 

Your eyes flicker to your right, briefly checking on Rafayel as he groans beside you in the passenger seat. 

He sat with his arm propped up against the passenger side window, his head resting on his palm. His breathing was still shallow, his eyes closed in a restless and light sleep. The alcohol was no doubt making it difficult for him to rest. 

You sigh to yourself, trying to think back to how the night had ended disastrously with him so damn drunk. 

Rafayel had invited you as his date to one of his endless art exhibits, a few cities over from your home. Only this one was special.

When they’d unveiled his starring piece, a beautiful oil painting on a massive canvas that nearly reached the ceiling, you nearly fell to your knees.

Because Rafayel had painted the most exquisite portrait of you. 

You, surrounded in ribbons of coral and seaweed, the most colorful globs of intricate paint surrounding you, a mosaic of sea glass. You, dancing in the endless sea of pastel turquoise. You, in Lemuria. His home. 

Rafayel had painted you countless times before, you were his muse after all. Even if he never admitted that openly to you. But this was different, he’d never so openly shared you with this world before. Never wanted to open himself up like this, to anyone, to you.

It was beautiful as it was magnificent. It made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world, more gorgeous than you’d ever felt in your entire life. The way he’d put paint to canvas and created literal magic.

It appeared others thought so too. All the patrons attending the gala that night clamored around the oil canvas, press snapping photos, writers grabbing at Rafayel, trying to get anything for their tabloids. 

It was nothing out of the norm. You’d become quite used to the glitz, glamor, and madness that came with being his girlfriend. 

What was unexpected, was the attention you got, as the subject of the painting. 

The people who wanted a piece of you, the stunning woman in Rafyel’s newest piece. Rafayel did his best to keep you comfortable, shooing away the throws of people trying to get even a morsel of anything from you. 

“Rafayel. It’s okay. I can handle it,” you give him your best reassuring smile, “Go mingle with your guests, I’ll be fine.” 

Rafayel looks reluctant, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, unwilling to let go. Eventually you convince him, with the promise of a reward later if he listened, to go speak to the serious sponsors and buyers that demanded his attention.

“Never should’ve painted that damn thing,” he muttered as he walked off, looking back at you as Thomas dragged him off. He should’ve known sharing you with the world would have driven him insane. 

So you spent the rest of the night trying to be as sociable as possible, not wanting to upset any of Rafayel’s guests. After a few hours you finally found a free moment, finding yourself in front of the portrait once again. Most of the people had cleared out, giving you a chance to really admire the masterpiece. 

Rafayel was undeniably talented, maybe the most gifted artist in the world, you’d always thought so. But the way he painted you here was more than just art. 

It was his heart on a canvas. And his heart, his entire world, was you. Every fiber of his soul, woven together into a tapestry of lustrous colors, each one depicting a different memory.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You turn your head to the stranger’s voice, coming face to face with a handsome man, clad head to toe in the most luxurious brands. He stands so uncomfortably close to you that you can smell the nauseating cologne wafting off of him. And yet it’s his aura that makes your skin crawl uncomfortably.

He fills in your awkward silence, eyes looking you up and down, “Definitely not as beautiful as the real thing.”

You really don’t know how to respond to the stranger’s boldness, in shock at how forward he’s being. Your relationship with Rafayel was no secret, the paparazzi having photographed the two of you publicly many times. And you’d walked into the gala on Rafayel’s arm. 

“Thank you,” you say curtly, offering a small smile, trying to return your attention to the display. 

“I’m going to buy it, you know. And then maybe after, I can buy you a drink?” when his hand lands on your bare shoulder you flinch back, ready to resort to your tactical training. The thought of this man buying a portrait of you makes you nauseous.

Before you can give him a piece of your mind, he’s falling backward with a surprised yelp.

“Hands off the art,” an all-too familiar voice snarls, as he stands between you and the man. You’re too shell shocked to realize Rafayel is clearly drunk, his charismatic voice drawling muddily. 

“Don’t touch me,” the man snaps, “I bought this piece, I legally own it.” The way he says ‘piece’ makes your blood boil, the misogyny dripping off his words.

Rafayel, drunk as he might be, catches on too. Fire burns in his eyes, matching the heat of his Evol. Thomas isn’t far behind, looking at you with desperation on his face, begging you to help him defuse the situation. Rafayel was spontaneous enough as it was, there was no telling the lengths he’d go to when he was intoxicated, especially when you were involved. 

You reach your hand out, grasping Rafayel’s fingers and gently pulling him back towards you.

“He’s not worth it,” you whisper when Rafayel’s head snaps to you, his eyes softening instantly when they land on you. Rafayel spares the man, rubbing his wrist with a grimace, a glance. You wrap your arm around Rafayel’s waist tugging him close to you and trying to lead him out of the nearly empty gala.

Rafayel takes a deep and shaky breath, before nodding slightly. As he turns to leave with you, he glances back to the man and Thomas, his chin raised.

“It’s not for sale.”

“B-But I already wrote the check,” the man blew up, face red with anger and disbelief. 

Rafayel smiles, a fake and genuinely terrifying smile, “I don’t care how many checks you write. You’re never looking at her again.”

It’s enough to even send chills down your spine. 

With those words, Rafayel exited the gallery with you on his arm, you rubbing soothing circles into his back. It was rare Rafayel got full blown drunk; you’d seen him tipsy numerous times, but he was always careful not to cross the line into completely losing control of his inhibitions. 

As he slumped in the passenger seat of his car, he briefly explained just how he found himself so shit-faced.

“Everyone was taking your time,” he slurred, breathing heavily. The alcohol made him bluntly honest, much more so than he’d normally be about something like this. 

“Oh, Rafayel…” you giggle, bending over to latch his seatbelt in, “I know, it’s usually you getting the attention, it must have been weird to share it. I’m sorry.”

Rafayel scoffs, his head resting on the window, “S’not why I was upset. I don’t like sharing you.”

You bite your lip to fight the smile that threatens to sneak its way onto your face, “Why didn’t you just come back?”

“Was trying to distract myself. Didn’t want to disappoint you,” he mutters, his eyes closed and his arms folded across his chest as you start the car, “I know you wanted me to talk to the annoying old farts.”

And then he promptly dozed off, like a precious little baby.

You were about 15 minutes from his place when Rafayel stirred awake from the mere feeling of your hand on his thigh. It was far too dark to see the tent growing in his pants, all from your fingers stroking his sensitive thighs, even when he was unconscious.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, giving him a smile when you see the movement in the corner of your eye, “You feeling okay? I have water in my bag.”

“P-Pull over,” Rafayel slurs, still clearly drunk. His eyes are glued to your palm on his leg. Not even he knows why the innocent touch has him so worked up and feral.

“What?!” you exclaim in a mix of disbelief and shock, “We’re so close to home –”

“Pull over,” he urges you again, the strain between his legs growing painful, “Please.”

His urgency makes you nervous, and you quickly find a secluded area you can pull over, turning your hazards on when you do so.

“Do you need to throw up?” you turn to him worriedly, grasping his thigh tighter in your fingers and rubbing soothingly, unsure of what to do. 

Rafayel groans at your unknowingly innocent actions, rubbing his hand down his face, which only makes you worry more. 

You undo your seatbelt so you can sit on your knees and face him, your hands still rubbing up and down his thighs, hoping to make him feel better.

Rafayel takes that opportunity to undo his own seatbelt, hoisting you out of your seat and onto his lap. You try to muffle your scream as he effortlessly carries you onto his lap, cramped between his body and the front dash. It always surprised you just how powerful Rafayel’s body was despite his toned and slender build.

“Rafayel!” you squeal as he sits you on his lap, “What are you doing?!”

He doesn’t speak, only looking up at you with big wet eyes. He spreads your thighs so that they cage his own legs, his hands resting on your sumptuous hips. Despite his strong and possessive hold, you’re still able to twist around to grab your tote bag, pulling out a plastic water bottle.

“Don’t need to throw up,” he mumbles, looking up at you through his long and dark eyelashes, “Jus’ need you.” 

With his hand on your back he pushes you down until your chest is flush with his, capturing your lips in a feverish all-consuming kiss. The bitter and sharp taste of alcohol is still strong on his tongue, his lips impatiently messy and insistent. Rafayel rocks up into you as he loses himself into your embrace, his very clear and prominent erection begging for attention. 

“R-Raf!” you pull away, even at his whiny refusal, hands still tugging at the clothing at your hips, “Did you really make me pull over for this?” Your eyes dart around nervously, making sure there’s no cars around you. But it wasn’t necessary, Rafayel’s windows were so tinted that even if you had your nose pressed to the glass you wouldn’t be able to see much. 

“Come on, at least drink some water while we’re pulled over,” you untwist the cap of your reusable water bottle. 

“No,” Rafayel pouts at you, the rose flecks in his eyes glow as he looks up pleadingly at you, “I don’ want water, wanna kiss you.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the risky and precarious situation you find yourself in. That situation being Rafayel’s very excited crotch. 

“Don’t laugh,” Rafayel broods, his bottom lip jutted out, shiny with a sheen of saliva, “I wanted to be with you all night, ‘specially when everyone was getting your attention.” He presses his chin onto your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your body wash and pressing wet kisses into your neck.

“Wan’ my reward now,” Rafayel slurs, his wandering fingers hooking under the thin strap of your evening dress, slipping it off your shoulders.

“You’re drunk Rafayel,” you reason firmly, even though your body is already betraying you. Your thighs squirm, widening instinctively for him, excitement pooling at the apex of your legs. 

“Sooo?” Rafayel’s head fall backs onto the headrest, “Just give me a taste, please?”

You want to keep a level head, deny his insane request, but his hard body against your pliable one makes you desperate for more. Besides…the windows are almost completely blacked out and you were in a very secluded upper-end neighborhood, where all the homes had nearly miles of yard between them. 

“Fine…” you concede, “But only if you drink some water.”

Rafayel’s eyes practically radiate, nodding eagerly and raising his lips to the cool bottle. His sudden willingness is comical, and you smile fondly at him as you help him to drink. Rafayel’s fingers squeeze against your waist, your soft skin making him grow thicker and hotter by the second.

His body unconsciously grinds against you as he drinks the water, eyes open wide with a faux innocence, staring right at your heated and flushed cheeks. He’s so focussed on admiring the irresistible look of desire on your face as he relentlessly rocks into you, that he doesn’t even feel the cold streams of water trickling down his shaky chin. 

His fingers trace delicate and intricate shapes into your waist, eyes hooded at the feeling of your heat against his throbbing member. His eyes never leave yours as he finishes the last of the water, looking up at you through his thick purple eyelashes. His eyes shine brightly, the pinks in them accentuated by the LEDs of the car, watching you with a vast sea of desire. 

Just as you remove the bottle from his lips, Rafayel lowers the angle of the passenger seat, as far down as it can possibly go.

You shriek in panic, clutching onto Rafayel as the chair dips suddenly, limbs flailing wildly. Rafayel takes that opportunity to lift your thighs, hoisting you nearly to the top of the passenger seat until you’re kneeling with his face in between your thighs.

“R-Rafayel!” you yelp, gripping onto the leather backseat for balance, thighs squirming at the feeling of his warm breath fanning against your exposed lips. The slick that had pooled in your panties makes you much more sensitive to his heated pants. Practically dripping onto his face. 

“You promised a taste,” he mumbles, all consumed by the way you glisten against the dim indoor lights of his car. He doesn’t let you get another word in before he’s pulling your panties to the side and licking a fat strip up your slit, all the way to your clit.

“Ngh – Raf!” If it weren’t for his strong hands on your thighs you would’ve crushed him with the way your knees buckled and you nearly fell on top of him.

Rafayel doesn’t speak, only a filthy string of wet slurps and strung out moans audible, this tongue writhing against you, positively starved. The way he makes out with your cunt makes your muscles melt, your body nearly melding into the seats.

Rafayel can feel your shaky legs struggling to keep you up and he pulls your hips down, guiding you to sit on his face. In your surprise, you fall completely, a choked sob of bliss ripping from your mouth when Rafayel completely engulfs your weeping cunt into his mouth.

You're a babbling mess of the most lewd cries, your thighs clenching unbearably at the pleasure Rafayel’s tongue forces into you. You try not to put too much weight on Rafayel, but he only pushes you down, wanting you to crush his skull. 

“Tastes so sweet,” Rafayel moans into you, the vibrations of his praises reverberating through every single one of your nerve endings. As he eats you with a relentless excitement, his eager nose strokes along your folds, gathering your arousal with every stroke.

“And it’s all for me,” he whines in the most pussy drunken voice you’ve ever heard from him, likely from the heavy intoxication, “No one else's, just mine.”

You can tell he’s still reeling from the encounter at the gala, with the man who’d wanted to buy the piece he’d painted for you. Just reassuring himself of things he already knew to be fact.

“And you’re mine,” you gasp through the sparks in your vision, wrought with pleasure. You do your best to keep your nails out of the expensive leather upholstery, tearing at Rafayel’s skin instead.

He grunts with the sting of your scratches, the pain fueling his excitement, which he funnels into the way he devours you, slurping up every single drop that pools down your lips. 

With one hand on your thigh, he palms himself through his dress pants, jerking furiously.

It isn’t long before he yanks you away with a desperate gasp, carrying you back down onto his lap, “Need to be inside you now, ‘kay?”

The ears ring with the whiplash, the pleasure being yanked away suddenly, staring at Rafayel with dumbfounded wide eyes. You barely register when he takes his bare cock out, rubbing it up and down your absolutely drenched folds, your dress bunched to your waist.

He holds himself firm in his fingers by the base, squeezing down as he rubs up and down your glistening slit, peering up at your rosy cheeks. 

“Baby?” he huffs, sounding faraway, “Can I?”

You barely even register your nod, your body moving on its own volition. Rafayel grins, lining himself up and not wasting another second before sinking himself into you, his favorite place in the entire world.

Your face is stuck in a perpetual oh as Rafayel sinks all the way into you, his veins especially prominent in his intoxication. You can almost feel them throbbing as they squeeze against your tight walls, his hips flattering when he feels himself hit the soft walls of your g-spot.

“Ngh – I love you, Y/N,” Rafayel moans, his arms coming up to wrap around your back, pulling you tightly against his torso.

You nuzzle your head into Rafayel’s chest, needing the support as he starts to rock into you, bouncing your body off his lap with the strength of his thighs. 

“O-Oh God,” you whimper into his chest, letting him man handle you against himself, too overwhelmed by the way he’d made you feel with his tongue, and now his cock. 

‘J-Jus’ like that, baby,” Rafayel mewls into the crown of your head, taking in deep lungfuls of your scent. His arms are wrapped so tightly around you that you almost can’t breathe, but you only want him to hold you harder, tighter. 

You can’t even be bothered to care that you’re fucking in such a public area, the risk of getting caught just a faraway thought. The only thing you can find yourself caring about is the way Rafayel drives deeper into your guts, forcing you to look at him as he buries himself into you.

“Hah – pretty girl,” he breathes out, his body slowing. You realize the alcohol must be making him tired, and you force your weight onto your knees. 

“L-Let me, Raf,” you whisper, sitting up as much as you can until your head brushes against the car roof. Rafayel watches you with wondrous eyes as you begin to ride him.

“Oo-oh shiit,” he groans, mesmerized by the way you roll your body into him, “You're so perfect, Y/N. Just like that, please don’t s-stop.”

You whimper, biting your lip and trying to control the way his cock has your body screaming for release. You lean back onto his knees, one hand grappling at the window for leverage, the other cupping his balls. 

Your hand is met with the wet condensation of the frosted window, the mixture of yours and Rafayel’s torrid breaths fogging up the interior completely. It’s such a sensual sight that you clench down on Rafayel, thinking about the passion of this moment, in the confined space of his favorite car. 

Rafayel lets out the most delicious string of moans and expletives as you gently massage his balls in your fingers, fondling them delicately, “Oh God, that feels so good, you feel – angh – amazing.”

You throw all your energy into rolling your hips against Rafayel’s pelvis, wanting to use him until you were utterly spent.

“So big Raf,” you wail, struggling to keep up a rhythm as his size splits you in half, “I-I’m soo clo-ose.”

“Fuuck, me too,” Rafayel grunts, his neck craning back, back arching slightly at the way you ride him so filthily, “Don’t stop, I’m almost – ngh – there.”

His lewd words are your last straw, your hips stuttering as your cunt coils tightly around his length, your body orgasming so intensely through your tightly shut eyes. You desperately hope no one is nearby, because the muffled screams coming from the inside of the car were sure to be audible. 

“You love me, right?” Rafayel slurs, his eyes wet and on the verge of coming undone, needing your words to be the final push.

“I love you Raf,” you gasp brokenly, still bouncing on his lap, “Soo-oo much!”

Your vice grip on him has Rafayel seeing stars of his own, the blinding pleasure signaling his own release. As he cums, he brings you back to his chest in a heated embrace, babbling into your mussed hair.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” comes his strangled mantra, the words overflowing from his wet puffy lips, “My Queen.”

You whimper as Rafayel fills you with rope after rope of his hot seed, it already beginning to seep out of your hole and down his still hard length. He gives you everything he has, the soul nearly being sucked out his body through his cockhead.

Rafayel digs his nails into your back as you overstimulate him with your languid thrusts, urging you to stop. 

“N-No more,” he whines, holding you in place, “You’re trying to kill me.”

You still your hips with a chuckle, listening to his rapidly pounding heart, “I would never.”

Rafayel strokes your hair, holding you against his body, his cock softening and slipping out of you. You wince at the feeling of how much dampness leaks out of you, sitting up and trying to cup yourself so it doesn’t leak all over Rafayel’s seats.

But Rafayel holds you back down, “No. Stay.”

“Rafayel, it's going to ruin the seats!”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles, his voice still sluggish from the alcohol, nuzzling his face into your chest as he hugs you to keep you from moving.

“You care, you love this car. I love this car,” you whine, trying to pull away and keep the slick from spilling everywhere, but he doesn’t relent. 

“Just say you love the car more than me,” he sulks, his bottom lip protruding. 

You glare at him, before deciding to tease him and play along, “I love the car more than y–”

Rafayel covers your mouth with his hand, squinting at you, “If you finish that sentence I’ll scream.”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

“He's a Colonel, right? Doesn't he have the money to afford a hotel?”

“Just because he can, doesn't mean he should waste the money when I have a perfectly comfortable couch available.”

“I sleep on the couch too,” he grumbles into your neck. His huff tickles your skin, and you wiggle in his arms.

You laugh, “when was the last time you actually slept on the couch?”

Maybe before the two of you got together, Xavier would crash on your couch when he was too tired to go up to his place. Now, he has a home in your bed and hasn't looked back since. And you doubt he's going to give up the chance to cuddle up to you at night just because he doesn't want Caleb on your couch.

His arms tighten around you and he says nothing.

You drop the pillow to move to the kitchen, where your phone is resting on the island, but Xavier doesn't let go. You try prying his arms off, but he's like a clingy baby koala.

“Xavier, let go!” You groan, squirming in his grasp. “I wanna see if he’s close.”

“He’s probably stuck in traffic.”

You can't really argue there. Most 9-5s are ending now, and everyone's probably racing home, clogging up the streets. But Caleb will still let you know when he's set to arrive.

Xavier’s hand wanders up your chest, groping the soft mound of your breasts through your—actually his—t-shirt. “And there's plenty of time before he gets here.”

“We shouldn't…” you sigh, but despite your best efforts, your body betrays you as it arches into his palm, leaning into the tender touches. You melt into him, letting your head lean back onto his shoulder.

You've been tense the past few days, prepping for Caleb's arrival by fixing up your apartment and keeping Xavier’s growing, green monster at bay. Letting off a little steam with him won't be so bad…

“Okay,” you relent, turning yourself to face him. He doesn't take his arms off of you, resting them on your ass instead and massaging the soft flesh. “But we have to be quick.”

Xavier responds by kissing you, dipping to grab your thighs and hoisting you up around his waist. Your legs wrap around him as you cling to his neck, leaning deeper into the kiss. He wastes no time bringing you to the bedroom, leaving behind your cellphone.

—

“F-Fuck!” You cry, chest heaving as Xavier’s tongue works a third orgasm from you. Your weak attempts to squirm away only force him to pull you against his tongue so he can continue toying with your swollen bud. Your hands curl into your pillow as more unabashed moans fall from your lips.

He switches his tongue with his fingers and moves to lap at your dripping pussy. “Mm, you taste so good, baby,” he sighs, leaving a kiss on your pussy before diving his tongue back into your fluttering hole. He eats you out like he's starved. Your previous orgasms are smeared across his lips and chin.

“Xavier,” you moan, “I'm gonna come.”

He hums into you, rubbing your clit faster. You fall over the edge again, squealing his name as he helps you ride out your orgasm.

Your body sinks into the mattress in the aftermath, embracing the soft glow of the setting sun enveloping your body and the slight glow coming from Xavier.

When he comes up, settling between your thighs, he slips two fingers into you without warning.

“Ah!” You tense as he glides his fingers between your sensitive walls with a wet shlick! You grab his wrist and push his hand away. “You're insatiable, seriously!”

“So are you.”

You don't deny it, responding only by sticking your tongue out and laying back to try and catch your breath.

But, a faint ringing catches your attention. Your cellphone. You sit up, startling Xavier whose hands had already started wandering back between your thighs.

“Oh no! What time is it?”

You look out the window, catching the sun fading beneath the horizon in an orange and red hue. It's been at least an hour since you got into bed with Xavier from what you can tell.

You rush off the bed only for your legs to buckle. Xavier catches you in time to sit you back on the edge.

“Caleb will probably be here any second!”

“It's okay. Take your time,” he says, rubbing circles on your thigh with his thumb.

You breathe in slowly and work your way up to stand like a newborn fawn, Xavier’s hand hovering at your back the entire time. Glance around the room for your scattered clothes, you successfully spot your t-shirt at the base of the bed but not your underwear. You slip your shirt on, foregoing your underwear for now, and rush to the kitchen for your phone that has gone dark again.

There's four missed calls, all from Caleb with the earliest being from ten minutes ago. You frown when you spot the texts he sent between each call.

7:16 PM: why aren't you answering? busy?

7:20 PM: you ignoring me??? :’((

7:23 PM: call me back. i'm here

The last message sends a chill down your spine. It's the most recent message and judging by the timestamp, you hadn't… finished.

Mortification turns to panic when your phone lights up with his smiling photo and rings. You mouth a curse to yourself before swiping to answer his call.

“Hello?” You cringe at the rasp in your voice and clear your throat.

“Where’ve you been? I was gettin’ a little worried.” His response is immediate and almost stern despite his attempts to keep his tone light.

“Sorry, I was, um… busy.” You cringe at your own pathetic excuse and pray he doesn't question it further. It’s even more pathetic when you feel something begin to drip down your thighs.

“Uh huh.”

You wince at his unamused tone and turn the conversation, “So, you're outside my place right now?”

“I'm outside your door.”

You swear your heart stops.

“Oh, okay! One sec then. I have to get dressed.”

Caleb mutters something about you making a guest wait, but you're too busy rushing to the bedroom to hear and hanging up the phone.

Xavier is sitting on the bed with those sad eyes again, leaning against his palms with his sweats hung low on his hips. You can still see the outline of his cock against them.

“Maybe we can continue later,” you offer, leaving him with a chaste kiss before fleeing to the bathroom. His hand moves for yours, but comes just out of reach.

Grabbing your concealer, you get to work covering up the marks Xavier left behind on the column of your throat. Rushing through the process doesn't cover them completely, but you convince yourself it's not too noticeable by the time you get to the third hickey.

He comes into the room behind you, wrapping himself around you again and resting his chin on your shoulder. His frown doesn't leave as you dab away his marks. He preoccupies himself by raising your shirt, revealing your bare center and essence still smeared over your thighs.

“Can you get me a towel?”

“Why?” He swipes at your thigh, collecting your cum, and licks his fingers as you stare at his tongue gliding up each digit. His eyes flicker to yours in the mirror. “I can clean you up without it.”

You tear your gaze away, trying to tamp down the heat rising in your body, and put on the finishing touches of powder. “C-Come on, I can't keep Caleb waiting forever.”

You pull out of his grasp, reaching for a bottle of perfume and spritzing it over your neck before heading toward your drawers for a pair of underwear and shorts with Xavier hovering close behind. Once they're on, you finally get to the front door and open it.

Caleb is there, backpack and duffle bag in hand, with a pink flush across his cheeks and dusting the tips of his ears. His eyes run over your figure, lingering on your bare legs and barely visible hickeys before glancing at a shirtless Xavier, who's still licking you off his fingers.

You can't deny the spark in your chest when seeing his flustered expression. Could he have been at your door while you and Xavier…

He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “Hey. Thought you changed your mind or somethin’.”

“No way!” You reassure, waving him inside, “this will be just like those sleepovers we used to have. I’m not passing that up!”

“Sleepovers?” Xavier mutters under his breath as you guide Caleb to the couch.

“Hey, Xavi,” Caleb chirps as he passes.

“Hi,” Xavier deadpans.

The two of them are reluctant acquaintances at best, brought together only by your close relation to the other. While Caleb enjoys teasing, Xavier only gives him the cold shoulder. They're a nightmare together. One is always trying to draw your attention away from the other, unable to fathom the idea of sharing you or your time.

You huff, grabbing both their jaws to shake their heads. “Behave.”

The last thing you want is for them to start bickering over nothing.

“Sorry, pips,” Caleb laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, baby,” Xavier says, grabbing your wrist to tug you to his chest.

This will definitely be a long week…

—

The three of you agreed to go out for hot pot since Xavier had a coupon, and dinner is pleasant, neither one making any teasing jabs or obviously pretending the other doesn't exist. It's mainly you and Caleb talking about what you've been up to at work while Xavier quietly eats, occasionally making comments.

So by the time you're back at your apartment, Caleb is the first to yawn and get ready for bed, stating he has a longer commute to work now that he's in Linkon.

You wish him a goodnight, reminding him there are extra blankets and pillows in the closet and he can call you if he needs anything, before clicking your bedroom door shut.

Xavier is laying on your bed, in fresh pjs with his eyes shut. His chest rises and falls in a slow, familiar pattern.

You carefully tiptoe through your bedroom to shower and change. When you slip into bed with Xavier, fully intent on cozying up to him and drifting off, he's propping his head up on one arm and looking down at you with lowered lids.

“Is it ‘later’ yet?”

“Huh?”

“You said we’d continue later.”

“Oh,” you reply lamely, furrowing your brows, “but Caleb’s here now.”

He positions himself over you, trapping you between his arms. His head falls into your shoulder, nuzzling against the soft skin of your neck. “I’ll be quiet.”

You bite your lip as his stiffening cock brushes against your thigh. When your pussy begins to ache, you want to curse. This is so, so wrong to want while Caleb sleeps behind your door, but that throbbing ache is growing and spreading through your body almost painfully.

“You,” you swallow thickly, “You promise?”

You feel him smile against your skin. “Promise.”

“Okay…”

By the time three of Xavier’s fingers are stuffed inside of your dripping pussy, you have your hands clamped over your mouth. You are still keenly aware that Caleb is just outside your bedroom door, and you pray to whatever benevolent God that is out there that he can't hear the slick sounds of your pussy as Xavier fucks an orgasm out of you with his fingers.

You're hardly recovered when Xavier lines his cock at your entrance, asking, “Can I put it in?”

You nod, still dazed from your orgasm, “mhm.”

“Hm, what was that?” He rocks back and forth at your soaked entrance, teasing your aching pussy. He can slip in anytime he wants, stretch you open so good, but he just has to torture you a little first.

“Yes,” you whisper frantically, blindly reaching behind and scratching his hip to push him in.

“Louder.”

Your eyes flicker towards the door, before you try again. “Please- ahh!”

Xavier fills you without warning, grabbing your jaw before you can bury your face in the pillows. Your moan is loud, uninhibited, practically bouncing off the walls.

“F-Fuck,” you gasp, clamping both hands over your mouth.

When he starts rocking his hips into you, your breathing becomes labored, desperate for mouthfuls of air instead, but you don't trust yourself to remove your hands.

True to his word, Xavier hardly makes any noise, but you on the other hand are struggling to contain your muffled whimpers, “mmph, mhm, mm!”

“I love when you moan my name,” he murmurs. “Can you do that for me, baby? Please?”

You shake your head, tears forming in your eyes when he stops moving entirely. You desperately clench around him, urging him to keep moving.

“C’mon,” he pleads, “just once.”

As an internal battle rages in your mind, he plays with your breast while he waits, pinching and rubbing your hardened bud.

“Mmm,” you moan, losing the war in your head and slowly lowering your hands to grip the sheets, “please keep going, Xavier.”

You cry his name again, arching against him as he thrusts into you. When he rolls you into your stomach to fuck you prone, your hands stay balled in the sheets with you lips still parted, moaning with each thrust.

The pleasure flooding your system fogs your mind until all you can focus on is the feeling of his cock bullying your sloppy pussy. Your orgasm is quick and pulls another whine from your throat.

“S-So good,” Xavier pants, nosing the shell of your ear. “You make the prettiest sounds.”

You hum at his praise and in the back of your mind hope Caleb is a deep sleeper.

—

In the morning not much is different, except for the pink blush creeping up Caleb’s neck as he stares at the wall when saying good morning.

You promise yourself you won't give in again. Last night was just a moment of weakness and you were only continuing what you had started earlier.

But then night falls and Xavier seems just as insatiable, grabbing you as you shut the door after saying goodnight to Caleb. He has you pressed against the wall, kissing your neck down to your chest. You tear your clothes off soon after and he takes you against the wall this time. Your teeth dig into his shoulder to cover up your whimpers and it only makes him drive his cock into you harder.

And the week goes on, every night Xavier finds new ways to split you open while you try your hardest not to make another sound.

You wish you could say you were doing good at burying your face in the pillows, biting his shoulders, or muffling yourself with your hands. But really, you aren't.

By the end of the week, Caleb is packing his bags and getting ready to move back into his place. You're completely sore all over and littered in hickeys from Xavier’s insatiable need to fuck you every night.

“Bye, Caleb!” You pull him into a hug which he returns fully, even lifting you a bit off your feet. Your body protests with aches jolting through your limbs, but you force down the groan.

He sets you down, steadying you when your legs seem to want to give out. “See ya. Thanks again for hosting me. Maybe we can all go out for hot pot again soon. My treat.”

You laugh with an eager nod, already salivating over all the free food. “Sure, it's a date!”

As soon as you wave off Caleb, Xavier is already grabbing your hand and leading you to the couch.

“Finally,” he mumbles under his breath, pushing you onto the cushions. You sit back as he spreads your legs open and kneels.

“Again?” You squeak.

“The couch smells like him,” he grumbles, pressing down on your clit through your panties. Your legs attempt to shut, but he holds them back.

“I think I owe him a lifetime of therapy bills,” you sigh, resting your head to look up at the ceiling.

Xavier hums as he peels off your panties, tossing them over his shoulder. “But you liked it, didn't you?”

“What?” You tense as his hands slide up your thighs.

“You liked knowing he could hear you.”

“I-”

Did you like it? You don't want your relationship with Caleb to be awkward or tense, but at the same time you've always loved to tease him, testing the limits of how far you could go to make him blush. Knowing that he could hear every filthy moan and creak of the bed, turned you on as twisted as it seemed. Maybe that's why you always gave into Xavier.

He rests both hands on your thighs. “It's okay, you don't need to lie.”

“Are you mad?” You brush back his silvery hair that hides his eyes from you. He's not looking at you, keeping his hardened gaze at your navel.

“No,” he says quietly.

You lean down, cupping his jaw with both your hands to raise his face to look you in the eyes. “I love you. And I choose you—I do. Always.”

For so long your relationship with Caleb had sat on a precarious edge, teetering the line between friends and something more. But, you chose Xavier and whatever line you could've crossed with Caleb was gone.

“I trust you.” His lips curve in a soft smile as he cradles one of your hands. He kisses your palm. “I’m a little jealous, maybe, but never mad.”

The relief is a weight off your shoulder, bringing a smile to your face. You pull him into a kiss that leads to him climbing on top of you, tugging your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra.

“I love you too,” he hums, peppering kisses down your collarbone and dipping into the valley of your breasts.

You giggle, playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “You know, it's kinda hot when you're jealous.”

He moves down your stomach, kissing the spots where his previous marks begin to fade. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, you're always so calm and in control.”

Xavier rarely lets his emotions slip, so much so he comes off as aloof to most people he meets. You know he's anything but though—he’s loyal, gentle, and attentive. Still, it's rare for you to see him display any negative emotions.

“It’s nice to see this side of you once in a while.” Bonus for you, he fucks your brains out with twice the stamina.

“Really? You couldn't wait another couple of hours or somethin’? I swear, you two fuck like rabbits,” Caleb scoffs, dropping his bags to the floor and shutting the door.

You jolt up, grabbing for the blankets to cover up.

“Why are you back?” Xavier grumbles, shifting the blanket higher over your chest.

Caleb bends down to pull a plug from the wall outlet. He responds plainly, “I forgot my charger.”

Instead of leaving with another goodbye, Caleb lingers, eyes grazing over the outline of your figure beneath the sheets. He swallows, Adams apple bobbing before tearing his gaze away.

“You know, I really tried ignorin’ it, but after the second night I knew you were doin’ it on purpose,” he says pointedly at Xavier.

“Doing what?” Xavier cocks his head, wide blue eyes looking at Caleb.

Caleb scoffs, “don't play stupid.”

“Play? I'm not playing at anything.” The sickly sweet, oblivious tone in Xavier’s voice drips with derision.

You groan, “stop it, both of you.”

Anymore of this and you'll have to shove them both out of your apartment.

You're about to apologize when Caleb turns his attention to you. “You're not innocent either.”

You huff, looking away, “You're just fun to tease.”

“Tease!? You call that teasin’? You had me rock hard every night,” he groans.

Xavier speaks next, “why don't you help him with that then?”

You turn to Xavier, jaw dropped. That is the last thing you ever expected him to say, especially when he was so pouty about having Caleb around.

“I trust you,” he says simply as if he's reading your incredulous mind. “If this is what you want to do.”

You glance over at Caleb whose red flush has a devious smile crossing your lips. Like you said, so fun to tease. His jaw ticks, sweeping over the marks laid across your skin by Xavier.

You nod, pulling your lip between your teeth. “I do.”

“You’re both okay with this?” Caleb gawks. “Are you sure?”

“Why so shocked? You think you can steal her from me?”

Maybe it's the challenging stare from Xavier or you dropping the blanket from your chest that makes Caleb finally step forward.

“Dunno, let's see.”

—

How did I end up here, you think to yourself when Xavier’s bare chest molds against your back. His warm hands slide up the curve of your stomach to your breasts, fondling each of them.

I don't ever want to leave, you decide when Caleb slips into view in front of you. His eyes flit over your exposed body, committing every curve to memory. There are hickeys left by Xavier on your neck and chest, some fresh others fading, placed throughout the week. Your nipples are pebbled thanks to Xavier’s teasing fingers, pinching and rubbing, and even lower, your drooling cunt is weeping down your thigh.

Caleb smears your slick up your thigh, tracing your folds and fluttering hole. He teases the tip of his finger into the heat of your cunt that attempts to clench around nothing.

You shudder and groan, trying to hide your face in Xavier's neck, but he takes your chin to guide you back. His grip is firm, but he isn't rough as he turns your attention back onto Caleb.

“Why are you running away already?” Xavier coos into your ear, soft lips brushing down the sensitive skin of your neck. He presses light kisses against faded hickeys. “We’re just getting started.”

“More,” you moan, leaning into Xavier's lips and shifting your hips against Caleb’s curious fingers.

“Sit then,” Xavier instructs.

You comply, pulling yourself out of their grasp to settle on the couch with your dripping cunt on display. Your hands trail down your body, playing with your tits before sinking lower to press your swollen bud, soaking in the rapt attention of the two men.

Caleb can't take his eyes off your pretty pussy, barely holding himself back from ripping your hand away to replace it with his tongue.

Xavier watches your mouth part, sighs and gasps spilling out of it. He nudges Caleb, pulling him out of his trance. “What are you waiting for? Get on your knees.”

He doesn't need to speak twice. Caleb gets down between your thighs like it's his home, taking your fingers and replacing them with his. He dips one finger into the entrance of your slick heat that eagerly welcomes him in.

“Mm, I can take more,” you whine, bucking your hips into his hand. “Please, Caleb.”

He curses under his breath and moves forward, his lips ghosting over your clit. He looks up at you as if he’s still hesitant.

Your fingers curl through his hair, nudging him closer, as you nod your silent permission.

Once his lips meet your clit, he dives into a frenzy like he's been completely starved. He licks and sucks, simultaneously fingering you, curling his digits against your spongey walls.

You writhe against his attention. Your thighs threaten to squeeze around his head as your hand tugs his hair, but Xavier slips beside you, keeping you spread.

“My pretty girl,” Xavier hums, kissing your neck, “you're doing so good for us.”

Caleb spreads your folds, replacing his finger with his tongue, dipping into your center to taste you.

With Xavier whispering praise in your ear and Caleb devouring your pussy, it's no surprise when you come on his tongue, gushing and crying out his name.

“You taste so good,” Caleb gasps, pulling your thighs over his shoulder.

You whimper, trying to squirm away when Caleb’s nose nudges against your clit as his tongue spreads you open to clean up every drop of cum. Your thighs tremble around his head as he laps at you with a flat tongue. “Ngh, I-I can't,” you pant, clawing at the couch when the sensitivity grows too much.

Caleb lets out a choked noise as he's abruptly ripped from your pussy. With the stimulation gone, you look down to see Xavier has a tight grip on Caleb's necklace, holding him back like he’s nothing but a dog on a leash.

His dog tag and charm sway against the column of his neck as a red flush creeps up the base. Caleb pants, your cum still smeared down his chin and lips, leaving behind a glossy sheen.

“That’s enough,” Xavier commands, authority dripping from his voice. Cold blue eyes glare down on him. A rare look on Xavier, you hardly even see him fight Wanderers with such intensity.

“F-Fine,” Caleb chokes out, gritting his teeth when Xavier tugs once more before releasing him. He climbs to his feet. Caleb towers over you, limp on the couch, with a predatory gaze. Arousal pools in your stomach again as you look at the bulge straining against his pants.

“Need help with that?” You lay your hand flat against him, feeling the thickness of his cock against your palm.

“Fuck yes,” he sighs, grabbing your wrist to guide your hand to rub him through his pants.

Xavier taps your thigh and gestures for you to move up. He slips in behind you and sits you back down on his lap where you feel his own stiff cock press against your ass.

“Go on.” Xavier nudges your hand, guiding it against Caleb’s bulge. “Put your lips on his cock, baby.”

You unzip Caleb's pants with trembling fingers because Xavier takes his own cock out to tease against your entrance, smearing your juices over himself, before he slips in. You paw at Caleb’s abdomen as the stretch pulls a moan from you.

Xavier grinds you down on his cock, holding your hips to rock you back and forth. He takes his time with your body, moving slowly to let you feel him fully inside you.

You’re clenching around him—desperate to have his finger on your clit, bounce you on his cock, kiss your neck. But he falls against the cushions, watching you writhe and tense, with a lowered gaze, no intention of going any faster than the languid pace he set.

You try to sneak your hand between your legs, but Caleb catches your wrist.

“Don't-” he gasps, gripping your wrist to guide you back to his cock, “don't forget about me.”

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to the fabric over his cock. “Sorry,” you murmur, slipping your hand into his pants to pull him free.

Caleb bucks into your hand when you wrap around his thick girth, swiping your thumb over his pearly, leaking tip. The whining moan that escapes him encourages you to give kitten licks at the salty precum smeared around his head.

“Shit,” he hisses, gripping the back of your neck to push your pliant lips further around his cock.

You take him in, moaning as he stretches your lips and bullies his way into your warm mouth. In turn, your pussy clenches around Xavier, making him groan and buck into you, pushing you further along Caleb’s cock until your nose meets his coarse pubic hair and his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Mmph!” You choke around his cock, eyes beginning to water as you try adjusting to his size stretching out your throat. You begin to bob your head, sucking and flattening your tongue against him.

His head falls back as he groans, thrusting into your wanting mouth and digs his fingers into your neck, guiding your rhythm.

Xavier, getting bored of being a watchful participant, takes your hips and drops you down on his cock, earning a choked moan from you. He uses your body like his own personal flashlight, moving you up and down at his own intense pace.

“Doing so well for us, baby,” Xavier grunts, his breathing growing staggered.

“God, your—ngh—mouth feels so fuckin’ good,” Caleb groans.

Being fucked by Xavier and Caleb is frenzied, pulling you in opposite directions to be met only with overwhelming pleasure on both sides. They use you, take you, giving until it becomes all you can think about. The tight grip of Caleb's hand against your neck as he thrusts himself down your throat to Xavier's cock splitting you open, fucking you so deep each time.

All it takes is Xavier bringing his hand around to rub your clit to make you gush all over him, moaning around Caleb and digging your nails into his hips. With your cunt squeezing and sucking Xavier in, he can't hold back his own orgasm, spilling deep inside you with one final thrust.

Your orgasm leaves you trembling, but it doesn't stop you from helping Caleb finish.

“She's so pretty, isn't she? Taking you like a good girl,” Xavier rasps.

Caleb moans out an indecipherable mumble.

“Is this what you imagined when you heard her moaning my name for the past week?”

“F-Fuck you,” Caleb growls.

You run your tongue along the base of his cock, kissing the tip, before taking him in your mouth again.

Caleb’s moans grow along with the wet, squelching sounds of you sucking him off.

“Are you going to come in her mouth?” Xavier asks, continuing to tease. “Wishing you could come inside her?”

“Mm, yes,” Caleb admits, brows furrowing as his thrusts grow sloppy. He comes down your throat after a few more thrusts, seed and spit spilling from your lips as he keeps you on his cock.

You swallow the salty cum when he pulls you off, making a show to lick the corners of your lips as he watches.

“Damn, you're killing me,” he groans, running a hand through his slick hair.

“You did so good.” Xavier pulls you back into his arms with his cock still in you, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. Warm hands glide over your stomach as you melt into him, not caring that your bodies are much too hot and sticky to be so close right now.

Caleb fidgets, like he's not sure of his place anymore, turning away to your kitchen. “I'll go get you some water.”

You watch as he walks away, the muscles of his back glistening with sweat and his pants hanging low off his waist.

You're sure there is more the two of you have to discuss later, but for now you settle against Xavier with one thought—you should let Caleb stay over more often…

“ Hmm. So, are you ready to fuck me within an inch of my life sweetie? Or were you just all talk and no bite?”

“ Excuse you?”

“ I’m just saying. There is no shame in admitting you bit off more than you can chew,” he says mockingly reaching to take the box away from you.

“ Don’t you fucking dare!” you pull it against your chest out of his reach.

“ And you know what? For that smart mouth, I am gonna really fuck the sass out of you. Just remember, you have this coming. Bedroom. Now.” You’re on your feet heading for the bedroom without bothering to check if he is following.

Surprise slowly transforming into excitement that then becomes anticipation when you finally reach the master bedroom in his base. Your heart beats so wildly it catches you off guard a little

“ Where are the twins?”

“I sent them out all day.”

“ Mephisto”

“ Him too. We are alone. “ he leans down and kisses your neck softly. You release tension you didn’t even notice your body might have been holding onto.

“ Will you always indulge me this way?” you sigh and press yourself into him some more, melting into his arms.

“ Yes,” his response is immediate and assured. He means it. You know he does. And it makes you smile just a little. Another soft kiss touches the junction of your shoulder.

“ Are you nervous kitten?”

You are. A little bit, even if you hate admitting it. But the thought of getting your ultimate fantasy erases all doubt and you open the box and take out the toy, carefully examining it.

“ Looks complicated,” you mumble quietly.

“ You have me,” he offers the solution to your new anxiety without a second thought, lips brushing your temple while his arms cage you in tighter against his body.

You gather your courage. Promises were made, you have claims to live up to and if you lose your nerve now, he will never shut up about it. You take a deep breath and turn to face him. Seeing the desire and anticipation in his own eyes makes you let go of whatever doubt was starting to creep in. this is mutual. And that is enough for you.

“ Let me help you relax,” his hands move to strip you down until there isn’t a piece of clothing on your body. This part feels comforting, familiar and when you both kiss as you take off his clothes too, you’ve completely shed any layer of hesitation that stubbornly clung to you.

Desire and greed take its place. That constant pervasive hunger that grips you tight even when he feeds you. Right now, it's his tongue, you suck and lick it with more enthusiasm than he has ever known, it has him moaning and pushing you down on the bed, mouths connected and the air between you tinged with something urgent and unbearably impatient.

The familiar warmth and scent of him already emptying your mind until the moment remains. He kisses slowly down your neck, your shoulders, collarbones until his tongue settles on a hardened nipple. Your body arches into him instinctively and a quiet moan escapes.

Sylus smiles against your skin before sucking with more vigor, his other hand gently kneading the other breast, rolling that nipple between his fingers.