Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
at the strip club, I think the stripper likes me! (ch4)
summary: reader and frat!caleb go on a date to the local shabby-chic dive bar.
rating: 18+ minors dni!!
cw: oral sex (f receiving), male masturbation, dry humping, nudity, kissing, alcohol consumption, profanity, mention of dead parents, not proof read ily
wc: 11k
<previous chapter | next chapter>
The front door to Chi Sigma Wave shuts with a soft thud, leaving Caleb inside with Gideon and the other frat members living in the house. Jenna must have left alone, because Liam is sprawled out on the couch as well.
The gentle goodbye Caleb had given you had immediately turned into rage as soon as he looked at Gideon, stuffing his face with chips on the recliner. He freezes, chip midway to his mouth, when he feels Calebs infuriation from across the room. All Caleb does is point an angry finger at the boy, and make his way towards the stairs.
"You are on thin fucking ice, Gideon."
The remaining frat boys watch Caleb near stomp up the stairs, disappearing from their view, before every single pair of eyes is suddenly on Gideon.
"Dude, what the hell did you do him?" Liam laughs, the uncharacteristic fury of the vice president confusing everyone in the room. Gideon swallows the food in his mouth, a comically fearful gulp.
"Should I be scared?"
"Yes." The entire room says in unison.
You waited until the uber dropped you back off at your apartment to debrief Tara, not wanting the stranger behind the wheel to hear every detail of your bumping and grinding. Tara, being Tara, had placed a doordash order for Wingstop before you even arrived back home.
The two of you sit on the living room floor, legs criss-crossed under the coffee table, letting the chicken balance out the alcohol lingering in your systems.
“He said he wants to take me on a date.” You sheepishly reveal, unable to hold back your smile. Tara squeals in excitement, bouncing up and down on her knees.
"Wait, he's like, lowkey, not a whore!" She exclaims, mouth full of greasy fast food.
"I mean, he did admit to sleeping around. Just... not that often. Allegedly." You counter, still an inkling of suspicion in your head.
Sure, he was very convincing today. The attention he gave you. The things he said. The intimate jacuzzi makeout. He makes it very difficult to not believe him. His charm and charisma were in overdrive to make him very persuasive.
But you'd be a fool to blindly believe every word that comes out of the man's mouth. You're giving him the chance to let his actions speak for themselves. All you can do is pray he doesn't fuck it up.
"Oh shit, I was supposed to text him I got back." Realizing you've been home for at least 15 minutes now, you wipe your fingers on a napkin before digging through your purse to find your phone.
There's already a text from him. Your phone must have been on silent.
8m ago
caleb: Did you get home?
you: yes, sorry got distracted :P
The three dots indicating an incoming text pop up before you can close out of the app.
caleb: No worries!
caleb: I had a good time today
You smile down at your phone.
"Oooohhh, he's got you baddd." Tara teases you from across the table. "What'd he say, what'd he say?" She nags.
"He just said today was fun." Trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Tara sees right through it, of course.
"What are you gonna say back?”
“I don’t know. Can’t I just like the message?”
“Yeah, if you want to be dry as shit. Tell him you had fun, too.”
you: me too :)
you: v impressed w the cleanliness of sig wave
A couple minutes pass before his reply sets your phone off.
caleb: Lmao I’ll tell the pledges they did a good job
You react to the text with the laugh option, leaving the conversation at that.
"Where do you think he's gonna take you on a date?" Tara asks, reaching over the table to steal one of your fries.
"I don't know. I wanna keep my expectations low." You sit back on your hands. "Probably just like, something casual. Dinner. Drinks. I don't know."
"I still can't believe the two of you were sucking face in the hot tub." You giggle, tilting your head to rest on your shoulder.
"Oh my god, don't say it like that."
"Jenna said she tried going out there to grab her shoes and you were on top of him." She raises her eyebrows. "I think she ended up leaving barefoot."
"Stop, oh my god."
"You sure all you did was kiss?" She jests, wiggling her eyebrows. The implications of her comment have you turning beet red.
"Hand to God, kissing only. Do you know how bad the UTI would be from hot tub sex?"
"In a fraternity house jacuzzi, too. I can't even imagine the shit that has probably gone down in there."
"Okay, don't lump me in with the real freaks, please."
Sunday was slow. Caleb didn't text. You didn't expect him to, so you weren't really bothered by it. You spent the day at home, feeling a little sluggish from the night before, catching up on household chores and coursework.
Monday morning was as dreadful as ever, but at least you had something to look forward to in lecture. Just as you’re about to leave for class, your phone pings.
caleb: Don’t stop for coffee before class
The text has you blushing as you walk out the door to catch the bus for campus.
You’ll never get used to the stale mothball scent that lingers in the lecture hall. Shuffling up to your normal seat, you have a couple minutes to settle in before Caleb’s typical arrival time.
To be honest, you’re kind of nervous to see him. The things that went down on Saturday have you feeling a little shy. Not saying you regret it, it was a great evening and the moments you shared together were extremely intimate, to say the least. But it’d be silly not to acknowledge that you were both under the influence, a little more courageous when it came to making moves on each other.
The alcohol had you pliable for him, and vice versa. Not a bad thing, but it was definitely different from the dynamic you’ve had with him during the week, or even at Astras that same morning. You don’t want to ignore what happened two days ago.
But it will be difficult to look him in the eye and not think about the expression on his face in that jacuzzi. The pleading, yearning eyes. The glistening of your saliva on his lips. The pink dusting his cheeks. His firm bulge pressing right against your—
“Morning, space cadet.” The reason for your dissociation quips as he sidesteps past you to sit down. “Sleeping with your eyes open?”
“Sorry, just tired.” He holds a drink out for you. “For me?”
“Iced americano with honey.” He proudly grins.
“How’d you know?” You inspect the beverage. “Caleb” is written on the side of the plastic cup.
“Gideon took your order at Astras, remember?” You hum, recalling the moment. He also has a drink, but while yours is in a clear, plastic cup, his is in a paper cup with a sleeve.
“I thought you weren’t a coffee person.” You nod at the beverage in question.
“It’s tea. Drank it a lot with my grandma growing up.”
“Are you close with her?” You ask, wanting to take advantage of the opportunity to know about his personal life.
“Oh yeah, definitely. She raised me after my parents passed away.”
Well shit.
Now you feel bad for wanting to know more about him. Your guilt must be written all over your face, because he’s quick to keep the conversation rolling.
“Are you close with your grandparents?”
"Eh. I never really got to see them that often because neither my mom's nor my dad's side lived close to where I grew up. We talk on occasion. Birthdays, holidays, stuff like that." There's a moment of charged silence. It feels a little stiff after he dropped that bomb on you. At literally 7am.
Again, he reads your energy very well.
"I don't mind talking about my grandma. Or my parents, for that matter. Don't feel bad that it came up in conversation." The reassurance provides a little relief. He nudges your knee with his.
"Still kinda an awkward topic."
"It's not awkward for me. Just part of.. who I am. Getting to know me." He shrugs, letting out a deep exhale. "You said you wanted to get to know me, remember? In the jacuz--" You immediately interrupt him, not wanting people to eavesdrop on your conversation with the frat boy.
"Can you not bring that up here?" You try to be stern with him, but your embarrassed smile ruins your intimidation factor. He chuckles in response.
The drastic change in conversation is also a strong indicator that his situation doesn’t weigh too heavily on him now. It’s not enough to completely derail his mood, nor cause him to shut down. It’s clearly something that he has processed and grown around, making you wonder how old he was when it happened.
You’ll save that talk for another day.
“Do you have any siblings or was it just you and your grandma?” It’s a casual transition in topic, not severe enough to be deemed awkward.
“Just me. Do I give only child?”
“Yeah, lowkey.” He gawks at you.
“What do I do that gives only child?”
“You always get what you want. Won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” You’re listing points off on your fingers.
“Just because I’m a very goal-oriented person doesn’t mean it’s obvious I’m an only child.”
“Goal-oriented? You say that like I’m interviewing you right now.” You shake your head, laughing.
“I mean, if you think about it, you kinda are. I’m applying for a full-time position.” He kids. The delivery is cringe, but the sentiment makes you flush.
“You’re corny.” He chuckles at your sheepish reaction, giving your thigh a squeeze. When the professor curses the room with his presence, just about dragging his feet across the lecture stage, Caleb removes his hand from your leg.
You kind of wish he didn’t.
Not because you want the PDA. I mean, let’s be real, those couples that are touching all up on each other in the middle of a class are annoying, and frankly, quite disruptive. Never in a million years would you ever put yourself in that position.
But you like the casual touches. His casual touches, to be more specific.
The lecture progresses as normal. You both do your own things, neither of you paying attention to whatever the tenured jackass is rambling about. He’d look over at your work every once in a while. You’d pretend not to read his texts or whatever email he was firing off. He could probably tell you were being nosy, anyways.
Professor calls lecture, everyone starts packing up their stuff, you included. For the first time, Caleb does not immediately stand up and leave you to collect your things alone.
“What do you normally do after lecture?” He asks, watching you tuck your iPad in your bag.
“Mondays, I have, like, 2-ish hours before my next class so I’ll meet Tara at the coffee house.” You check the time on your phone. She gets out of lecture about an hour after you.
“Can I walk with you over there?” He stands only once you’ve finished packing up.
“Do you have class on that side of campus?” You ask over your shoulder as you begin to make your way out the room. At the bottom of the stairs, Caleb makes sure to step in front of you to hold the door open.
“No. Do I need a reason to walk with you?” He grins down at you as he lets you out of the lecture hall.
“I guess not, no.”
It’s about a 10 minute journey across campus to the university cafe. Campus bustle is at a high, people racing to get to their morning lectures. Bicycles fill the roads, half-asleep students stumble along the sidewalks. Tall evergreen trees dot the grounds, leaves and branches fluttering in the wind.
The walk with Caleb is casual. He lets you set the pace, knowing you could probably never keep up with his long, 6’2 strides. Hands at your sides, occasionally brushing his.
“The board is arguing about the next party theme.” He towers over the passersby, eyes calmly scanning his surroundings.
“What are your options?” Caleb briefly looks at his phone as you walk.
“Uhhh. We are stuck between stoplight party, or DILFs and MILFs.”
“I don’t even know what stoplight means. And DILFs and MILFs sounds like a porno title.”
“Stoplight party means you wear red if you’re in a relationship, yellow if it’s complicated, or green if you’re single.” You narrow your eyes.
“So both themes are equally as sexual.” He scoffs.
“Is DILFs and MILFs sexual?”
“It's literally in the acronym?” Raising an eyebrow, you look up at the frat boy walking next to you. “I feel like it’s kinda hard to dress for, too. I don’t know what type of outfit would give MILF.”
"Good point. I'll pass it on." The coffee house is just little further down the path, maybe 50 yards out.
You slow your pace to spend just a little more time with him.
"Are you busy tomorrow night?" Taking a second to mentally run through your schedule, you shake your head.
"My last lecture ends at 4, I'm free after that." The two of you stop just a few steps shy of the entrance to the cafe. "Gonna try to lure me into 'studying for history' again?" Caleb pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue.
"No." He laughs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'm taking you out."
"Really."
"Yes, really. 7pm tomorrow."
"Where are you taking me?"
"Skyhaven." Skyhaven is an old school dive bar in town. Dark interior, neon LED signs with beer logos, checkered floor tiles. Grungey, but still houses a very cozy and relaxed aesthetic. Cute for a first date. "For pool and drinks."
"I'm pretty good at pool, actually. Fair warning."
"Looking forward to the competition, then." He takes a few steps backwards, stupid grin still on his face. "I'll pick you up."
"Bye, Caleb." You drag out his name, watching him as he turns his back to return in the direction you came from.
Entering the coffee house, you still have about 40 minutes until Tara will meet up with you. There's plenty of open space about the room, still early in the day. You pick a booth by the window, taking a second to scroll on your phone before switching gears into productivity.
The hair on your neck raises. Looking around the room, you composedly scan over the few tables of people in the cafe. Briefly, you make eye contact with a table of two girls, covering their mouths, glancing over at you every few moments.
Quickly averting your gaze, you aren't sure why they are staring. Maybe you're paranoid? But you have nothing to be paranoid about. You literally just sat down. You're fairly certain there's nothing on your face, you didn't accidentally play loud music from your phone. It's unclear why you've caught their attention.
They're probably not looking at you, right? Your booth is right in front of a giant window, they could be looking at the students walking by outside.
Or they just watched your interaction with Caleb.
But you didn't even touch him, nor did he touch you. He walked you to the entrance, you said a couple words all smiley and giddy, and went your separate ways. That's not anything to be intrigued by.
Not wanting to stew on the observation any further, you decide to get to studying.
The rest of the day is boring. Differential equations lecture, a materials characterization lab, time moving slower than molasses. You go to bed thinking about what you're going to wear to your date tomorrow, wake up thinking about what Caleb might wear tonight.
You're not mentally present in any of your Tuesday lectures. Distracted with every single hypothetical possibility. What if all the pool tables are taken? Or out of order? What if the bar is completely out of liquor, except for gin? You hate gin! What if you get there and the bar is on fire--
Okay, you're being ridiculous.
Everything is going to be fine. Even if you have to pretend to enjoy gin for the night.
3 hours is more than enough to get ready. Tara doesn't get out until 6, and you're pretty certain she mentioned having some study thing with her friends, so she won't be here to distract you. You can take your time, have a glass of wine, listen to your own playlist, pop a beta blocker, everything is fine!
After a quick shower, a quick blowout, and some light makeup, you lay out your outfit options on your bed. A dress is too formal for the shabby-chic dive bar, and a mini skirt would seem like you put in too much effort. Jeans are the correct choice. Dark wash, low-rise, because you aren't a millennial.
As for the top, nothing too cleavage-y. The shirt you choose is plain black, sleeve 3/4 length, just past your elbows. Straight, boat neckline that dips down to your low back, revealing the soft curve of your spine.
The shoes trip you up, no pun intended. You could wear sneakers, they're definitely the most comfortable, everyday choice. A cute kitten heel would fit too, or maybe a simple pair of black boots. You just painted your toes, so--
There is a knock on the door. You check the time on your bedside clock. 6:41pm.
Why the fuck is he here so early!?
You're not even dressed, still wearing some drab tshirt missing it's neckline and even nastier sweatpants, as you come out to check the peephole. Of course it's fucking him. The guy barely shows up to lecture on time, and here he is twenty minutes early! You can't let him stand on the porch, so you unlatch the deadlock and swing the door open.
One hand in his back pocket, the other holding the cutest bouquet of sunflowers, tulips, and little white daisies wrapped in brown paper. Caleb wears a white cotton henley, sleeves bunched just above his elbows, silver pendant just peeking out through the open buttons of the shirt. Charcoal-toned jeans hug a slender waist, hanging loose through the legs.
He looks you up and down, eyebrows twitching in confusion.
"I'm not wearing this out, obviously." You can basically see his shoulders sag in relief. "I just wasn't expecting you to show up fucking twenty minutes early."
"I couldn't wait any longer." He's taking a step forward to wrap an arm around you, big arm snaking all the way across your lower back. His signature woody sandalwood cologne overwhelming your senses as you loop your arms around his neck. He holds the bouquet out for you after breaking the embrace. "Do you like them?"
His fingers graze yours as he passes off the bundle of flowers.
"They're very pretty. I don't think I own any vases, though." Laughing, you step aside to let him in, gently shutting the door behind him before making your way to the kitchen to scrounge up any kind of makeshift vase.
"Nice place." He strolls around your living room, looking at all the different trinkets you and Tara have collected since living together. You emerge from the kitchen with an old pasta sauce jar, about 3 inches of water in the bottom, and bouquet sticking out haphazardly. "Is that gonna be able to stand upright?"
"I don't know, we'll see. I don't have any other options." You inspect the arrangement, before carefully setting it down on the kitchen island. "Give me like, 5 minutes to get dressed." You disappear into the back hallway, shutting your bedroom door behind you.
Clothes on, you're still unsure which shoes to wear. Stuck between the kitten heels and the boots, you bring both out to the living room to ask Caleb.
"Boot or kitten heel?" He's still standing, looking at a few of the pictures framed on the wall, when your voice grabs his focus.
"I'll still be taller than you in either option, if that's what you're asking." He raises an eyebrow.
"I know that, dipshit. Which one matches my outfit better?" You hold them down closer to your feet, as if that will help him make a decision.
"They're both black?" You throw your head back with a groan. "I don't know!"
"You're such a boy." Tossing the retort over your shoulder as you retreat back into your room. You make the independent choice to go with the boots, slipping on a pair of socks before stepping into them.
Final touches, a few extra spritzes of perfume, a little more hairspray, your favorite lip gloss, shoulder bag in tow, and you're coming out to show Caleb the completed look.
The clicking of your heeled boots catches his attention, crossing the living room to meet you. He lets out a low whistle.
"Wowww." He takes your hand, letting you spin to give him a 360. "Very beautiful." Pulling you closer, he leans in for a kiss, but you interrupt the motion with a hand on his chest.
"I literally just did my lip combo." You say, like it's so obvious. He lets out a low noise of frustration before opting for a forehead kiss instead.
"Come on, pretty girl." Opening your front door, he let's you lock it before leading you to his car. Ever the gentleman, Caleb opens your side for you, even holding out a hand to use as balance as you step into the lifted 4Runner.
The ride is short, less than 15 minutes. He lets you queue up songs on his phone, control the A/C, total passenger princess privileges.
Arriving at the bar, it's pretty empty. Not surprising, it is a Tuesday. You immediately move to claim a pool table, as well as a tall table near it.
"What do you drink?" He reaches into his back pocket to pull out a bifold, black leather wallet.
"Rum and diet?" He's nodding before heading for the bar. You take the time to set the pool table up, using the triangle rack to neatly align the billiards balls.
The low number of patrons has Caleb returning with your drinks rather quickly, a rum and coke for you, a Pacifico for him. Giving each other a small cheers before tasting the cocktail.
One thing about dive bars, is that they always somehow find the bartenders with the heaviest hands. The obnoxious taste of liquor makes your nose scrunch.
“Is it not good?” He juts a thumb in the direction of the middle-aged bartender. “I can ask him to remake it.”
“No, it’s just really strong. I’ll be okay.” You reassure him, setting your drink down as Caleb grabs two pool cues from the rack.
“Ladies first.” He holds out the stick for you, but you shake your head as you take it.
“You break it. I can never hit it hard enough.”
“I thought you said you were good at pool.” He laughs, lining up for his shot. Front hand flat on the table, using the indent between his thumb and forefinger to stabilize the cue. Broad back almost parallel to the playing field, bicep bulging as he takes a few practice strokes, before sending the cue ball into the crowd of solids and stripes with a loud crack. Playing balls scattering all around the table, clack clack clacking against each other.
Standing upright, Caleb grins arrogantly, pool cue loose in his grip.
“Your turn.” You take a moment to assess your options before acting.
The sight of you bent over that table is like porn to Caleb.
The curve of your ass, the dip in your spine, revealing top letting him ogle the smooth skin and beautiful freckles that dot your back. Hair gently flowing over one shoulder. Feminine, manicured hands manipulating the pool cue.
He’s so distracted by you, he doesn’t even realize you’ve sunk two stripes.
“You’re solids.” You give him a teasing pat on the chest as you pass him to grab your drink at the table. Not even aware of the way he just completely undressed you. The warm, sexy perfume you’d chosen in your wake.
He’s so fucked.
All he can do is scoff, head thrown back and eyes shut as he desperately holds on to his composure.
The first game moves fast, the two of you seasoned players. Both of you sinking at least one ball nearly every turn. Conversation is flowing, drinks are hitting, you’re both having a good time.
End of the first game. It’s tied. Three balls remain on the table, a solid, a stripe, and the 8-ball. It’s Caleb’s turn.
Circling the playing field as he evaluates the best course of action, trying to ignore you leaning on your palms on the border of the pool table. Leg crossed over the other, butt pressed against the outer edge.
He sinks his final ball easily, a gentle knock of the cue ball pushing it into the pocket. But, the position of the white ball and the 8-ball force him to aim for the middle pouch.
You are perched right next to his target.
When he bends down to line up his shot, all he can focus on is you, seated so prettily along the perimeter of the table. The stained glass overhead light warming your features. Your empty glass resting on the border, right next to your hip.
The worst part is, you aren’t even looking at the play at hand, or the way he holds the pool cue.
You’re looking at his face. The divot in his brow. The unconscious clenching of his jaw. He can feel you looking straight through him. It’s all he can feel, actually.
“You’re trying to cheat.”
“I’m not even doing anything.” You feign nonchalance.
“You’re being a distraction.” He’s refusing to even look at you, not letting you trick him into defeat.
“I’m just sitting here.” He shakes his head, cheeky grin stretching from ear to ear. Caleb can only take a deep breath and pretend there isn’t a beautiful girl sat less than 4 inches away from his target pocket.
He’s only so strong.
Caleb knocks the 8-ball into the hole, only for the cue ball to fall in right behind it. You groan mockingly, fist coming up to cover your mouth.
“Aaand that’s game, big guy.” He walks around the table to stand with you, facing the table while your back is still to the losing scene. Hip just about touching his as he looms over you.
“I want a rematch.”
“Are you gonna actually try to win this time?” You coo, lashes fluttering so prettily up at him.
The teasing has blood rushing to his dick.
“Do you want another one?” His eyes flit down to the empty glass at your side.
“Are you gonna have a second drink?”
“I’d like to be able to drive you home, so no.” You purse your lips in thought.
“I’ll have another.” His warm hand slides over the front of your opposite hip, pausing before reaching for the drinkware next to it.
“No ‘please?’” He teases back, fingers hot and heavy where they sit on the belt loop of your jeans.
“Can I please have another rum and coke?” Drawling out the soft request. His tongue darts out to wet his lip as he smiles.
“Yes, you may.” He retorts, so softly, a gentle squeeze of your hip before he’s grabbing the glass and retreating to the bartender. The drink he returns with is in a tall glass this time, his attempt to make it more enjoyable for you.
Game 2. He breaks, again. You’re solids, he’s stripes. Fast game.
Caleb still has two stripes left on the board when you sink the 8-ball. He watches from his chair at the tall table, deadpan expression.
“You’re killing me.” He grumbles, leaning back in his seat.
“I’ll shoot with my bad side next round.” You kid, coming over to dig through your purse. When he sees you pull out a lip liner and gloss, he stops you. “What?”
“Let me kiss you before you redo your lips.” He stands to his full height, gaze already on your mouth as he leans in. You let him close the gap, pressing his lips softly to yours. But, when you feel his tongue asking for more, you pull away. A low noise of confusion at the loss of contact.
“I don’t like kissing losers.”
The grin on your face is so condescending as you tug the cap off your lip liner to reapply. The frat boy can only walk away to set up the third game.
And hope you don’t see the way he discretely adjusts his stiff cock.
Caleb racks the playing balls, sets the cue ball, and takes a step back.
“You’re breaking it this time.” He lets his pool cue rest loosely in his grip.
“I told you I don’t like breaking it.”
“Yeah, then you kicked my ass. Twice. Break it.” He’s not very good at being stern. But you oblige anyways.
“If you’re gonna make me break it, then move out of the way.” Caleb’s still standing only a step away from the table, right in the space you need to shoot.
“I’m not in your way.” He holds his hands out, as if offended you would ask such a thing.
You can spot his perverted little trap from a mile away.
But it’s just so much fun to watch him squirm.
So, bending over the table for your shot, spine arched so femininely, you draw your hips back, coming just shy of making contact with the hips of the boy behind you.
Caleb’s fingers twitch with the undeniable urge to reach a hand out. To touch the little fucking vixen bent over so perfectly in front of him.
Just a fraction of a step forward would have him pressing into you from. Let you feel what your teasing does to him.
He’d place a hand right between your shoulder blades. Feel your velvet skin exposed by the low back line of your top. His other hand would tuck right into the crease between your hip and thigh, the groove making the perfect handle to pull you back onto him.
You stand upright before his fantasy reaches its climax. A blessing in disguise.
He can’t move. His feet are cemented to the black and white checkered tiles as you circle the table to make another shot. And another.
Luckily for him, you whiff it your third attempt, pinballing off the corners of the pocket. Sucking your teeth, you see Caleb planted in the exact same spot you left him in when the game started.
“Giving up already?” You saunter over, real sweet, leaning against the table right in front of him. He can see the natural rosiness of your cheeks shining under your makeup. Eyes just a little glossy. Eyelids heavy with each blink.
Caleb realizes you are significantly more drunk than the Saturday kickback.
And yet, you’ve only been getting better with each game. The first game was close, he could have won if you weren’t intentionally distracting him. The second game, it was a clear sweep for you.
Third game, and you’ve sunk three balls before he’s even had the opportunity to shoot.
You are a problem.
“Not giving up. Just… strategizing for our last game.”
“Last game?” You pout, eyebrows pinched together.
“I’ve gotta get you home.” He coos, tilting his head. “And, we’ve got class bright and early.” You whine, leaning your forehead against his chest.
“You’re, like… the only good thing about that class.” His chest rumbles with quiet laughter.
“You don’t like learning about U.S. history at 7am?” All you can do is groan. He takes your pool cue from your grip, setting both yours and his on the table. He knocks a couple of the balls around, but it’s fine. It’s clearly time to take you home.
“Fuck, we have to be up so early tomorrow.” You’re whining into his chest, hands grasping the hemline.
“I know, that’s why I have to take you home.”
“Don’t you wanna finish the game?” You look up at him with the biggest, most pleading expression.
He’d kiss you senseless if you were sober.
“Not if you’re gonna kick the shit out of me again.” He laughs, pushing your hair out of your face.
“I won’t, I promise!” He shakes his head down at you, not believing your lie.
“I’m gonna go close out my tab, and I’m taking you home.” Letting out a huff, you release your hold on him so he can settle the check. He’s quick, shooting you a wink from the bar as you wait.
It makes you so unbelievably giddy. That this ultra handsome man is looking at you from the bar.
You want to fuck him so bad.
He’s ambling back over to you, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket. And all you can think about is climbing him like a fucking tree.
“Ready?” Caleb holds a hand out for you, but your greedy, not-sober brain has your fingers slithering up his arm to hold his bicep, instead. Not that he minds. He makes sure you have your purse before guiding you out of Skyhaven, and to his car parked on the street.
He opens your car door, obviously. And the ride is short, but sitting down in a dark car has you wanting to fall asleep. Fading in and out of drowsiness, he pulls up to the curb outside your apartment.
“Can you help me get inside…?” You ask, so sweetly, head resting on your shoulder, looking up at him through wispy, dark lashes. He obliges with a hum, unclicking his seatbelt to come around to your side.
Opening the door, you don’t make a move to stand up on your own, so he takes that as his sign to scoop you up from your seat, big hands supporting your thighs where they wrap around his waist, head resting on his shoulder. Snaking your arms tight around his neck.
He manhandles you like it’s the easiest thing in the world, grabbing your purse and shutting the car door behind him while you cling on for dear life.
You might be half asleep, but you can still smell the Santal 33 on his skin. Bottom notes coming off a little sweeter after wearing it for a few hours.
“What’s the passcode to your door?” He gives your leg a squeeze to get your attention.
“0122.” You whisper against his neck, and a hand quickly moves from your thigh to the keypad to unlock the front entrance.
All of the living room lights are off, meaning Tara has likely called it a night. As quietly as possible, Caleb uses his foot to push the door shut behind you, before basically tiptoeing down the hall, trying to remember which room he saw you emerge from when he came to pick you up.
He guesses correctly, and uses his back to press your bedroom door open. His first reaction, cute. It’s small, but cozy. Most of the space is occupied by a full-sized mattress, complete with, what he thinks, is way too many pillows. Big sliding mirror separating your closet from your room, a couple photostrips and souvenir magnets decorating the perimeter. A quaint little vanity, mirror adorned with LED bulbs, doubles as your desk.
Your window sill is lined with a few small plushies, chiffon curtains letting just a bit of moonlight through. Odd variety of posters and banners pinned to the wall, some from your favorite animes, bands, cool photograph prints, even a pennant from your favorite major league baseball team.
His favorite thing, though, is not the posters, however cool and so uniquely you they may be. His favorite thing is the way your scent seems to cling to everything in here. The warm, seductively gourmand aroma like a gentle caress as soon as he walked in.
He goes to lay you down on your bed, but when you make contact with the mattress, he feels your lips dragging kisses down his neck. And judging by all four of your limbs that are still snaked around him, he understands what you’re trying to instigate.
“Not tonight.” He murmurs, having to unwrap your legs from his waist himself.
“Why not…” You breathe, lips still trailing from the base of his neck to his jaw. When you lean in for a real kiss, he stops you.
“Because you’re much drunker than me right now. It’s not right.” He watches the disappointment in your face, and it fucking kills him.
“Please…?” God, must you make things so difficult for him?
“I’m not having sex with you tonight, baby.” He seriously thinks you’re about to cry, and he just has to give you the reassurance you crave. “I don’t want to take advantage of you, nor do I want you to do something you’re gonna regret.”
“Caleb.” The way his name melts off your tongue makes him want to fuck you. So badly.
But he just can’t. Not while you’re like this.
“There’s nothing you can do to change my mind.” He has to unhook your arms from around his neck, standing up to his full height as you remain on your back. Grabbing your legs, he lifts them to unzip your boots and tug them off. “Where do you keep your pajamas?”
You point to the bottom drawer of your dresser, and he simply grabs whatever shirt and short combination was on folded on top. He lays it on the bed next you.
“Is your makeup remover in the bathroom?” You nod, sitting upright.
“Under the sink.” As soon as you begin to take your shirt off, he whips his head around to go find your bathroom. When he returns with your micellar water and a few cotton rounds, you’ve finished changing into your pajamas.
Except you didn’t put on the shorts he laid out, opting for just your panties instead. If he did notice, he didn’t say anything.
A couple squirts of the liquid onto a cotton pad, and he’s cupping your cheek to angle your face up at him.
“Eyes closed, please.” He’s gently swiping away your mascara, your foundation, all of your makeup. “All done.”
“Your ex trained you well.” Watching him toss the used cotton rounds into the bin under your desk. He laughs, herding you under the sheets.
“When Liam was still living in the house, I think I watched him do this for Jenna a million times.” Turning onto your side to face him, Caleb sits down on your bed. “I’ve never had a girlfriend.”
“I find that hard to believe.” He just sighs, setting a hand on your hip.
“I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” A short squeeze and he’s moving to stand with a soft utter of your name. “Goodnight.”
“Wait.”
Your hand comes out to grab his before he can get to his feet.
“Can you lay with me…? Just for a little.” You’re just so fucking cute like this. So soft. So persuasive with so few words. He’s nodding, and pulling back the sheets to join you. “You’re not getting under my covers in your outside clothes.”
“Oh, okay.” And he’s lifting the covers back up, but you stop him.
“No, I want you under the covers.”
“You just told me I couldn’t.”
“In your outside clothes.”
“So you’re asking me to take my clothes off.”
“I’m asking you to get under the covers.” He scoffs, but still continues to strip down to his boxers.
He settles under the covers, letting you tuck yourself right into his side, head on his chest, listening to his heart thump.
“Were you being serious about the girlfriend thing?” Caleb’s hand traces up and down your arm.
“Is that something people normally lie about?”
“I don’t know. Could be something you’re just… embarrassed about. Just wanna pretend it never happened.”
“Nope. No secret ex-girlfriend.” The rhythmic rise and fall of his lungs, along with the gentle drag of his fingers along your arms and side, has your eyelids growing heavier with each blink. “Have you ever been in a relationship?”
“Back home, yeah. We dated in high school, tried to do long distance when we both went to college. We broke up before the end of freshman year.”
“Did you break his heart?” The puff of his chest rattles your head.
“I don’t think so. The split seemed pretty mutual at the time.” You lift your leg to settle over his lap, too tired to truly savor the feeling of your bare thigh pressed against the skin above the waistband of his boxers.
Caleb is definitely awake enough to enjoy it, though.
“Thanks for beating my ass today.” He’s quiet, tender hands running up and down your spine, kneading the outside of your quad.
“We should do that again sometime.” You’re mumbling, and he knows you’re not far from sleep.
“Maybe if you let me practice a bit. So I can hold my own.”
“More fun to win.”
“Go to sleep.”
“Okay.”
The conversation stops, only rustling of bed sheets and quiet breaths to be heard. His light touches continue, luring you into a deep slumber. When he’s confident you’re asleep, and he goes slip out from under you…
He just can’t bring himself to do it. You’re completely limp in his hold. Like a weighted blanket just draped over his side.
Yeah, he’s a big, strong boy. He carried you in here, for crying out loud. It wouldn’t be physically difficult for him to pry himself out of your grasp.
Physically difficult, no. And yet, there’s still something holding him back.
10 more minutes. Just to be certain you’re asleep.
You had too much to drink. Strange, because you only remember having two cocktails at the bar, plus the one or two glasses of wine you had while getting ready. Normally not enough to have you feeling pressed into the mattress like this.
An alarm goes off. 6:00am. Because it’s Wednesday. And you have class in an hour. You’re kicking yourself internally. There’s no way you’re dragging yourself, half dead, into that sticky lecture hall, to listen to a fucking history lecture.
“Turn it off.” A voice groans behind you.
There’s a lot going on behind you, actually.
There’s a warm, broad chest flattened against your back. Long, thick legs tangling with yours. Soft pants brush your nape. A muscular arm wrapped around your middle like a vice. Another outstretched under your head, hand blindly feeling for the source of the disruption.
That feeling of being pressed into the mattress makes more sense now. Not to invalidate your hangover. It does still feel like you're moving a little slow. But the feeling of being crushed? The unmovable force that is currently smothering you from behind? That’s not from the alcohol getting its revenge on you, no.
That would be the 6’2, 200lb koala on your back.
“Turn off that fucking alarm.”
He just about rolls you onto your stomach as he leans over to turn the alarm off. The deafening noise finally comes to a halt, and Caleb retreats back to his big spoon duties.
But now that you’re awake, the only thing that occupies your mind is just how sluggish you feel. You need water. Aspirin maybe.
You need to get up.
Every effort to sit upright is futile. There is somebody nearly twice your size doing everything in his power to make sure you do not leave this bed.
“Let me up.” You groan into the pillow. Your mind wants to get up, to do something to remedy this oncoming headache. Your body doesn’t seem to follow.
“No.”
You’ve accepted the fact you aren’t making it to lecture. You just need something to aid your hangover.
“I need to get up.”
“Why.” If you had no recollection of last night, you might think Caleb was more hungover than you. Acting like he’s glued to the damn mattress.
“I need water.”
“Later.”
“Now.”
“Mmmm.” An angry grunt rumbles from the man behind you as he gets up. Not you. Him. He tears himself from the bed, hair sticking up in every direction, wearing nothing but his boxers. Kind of fuzzy in the way a bear is when it wakes up from hibernation. He stumbles clean out the door, returning less than 30 seconds later.
He comes back with one of Tara’s mugs. Must’ve pulled it from her side of the cabinets. As well as the entire Brita from your fridge.
Standing over you, he’s filling the mug with water. He doesn’t even sit back down as he watches you down the whole thing.
“More?” He’s muttering, just looming over you half naked with a Brita pitcher, like some kind of… weirdo. You shake your head, setting the empty mug on your nightstand.
Caleb just about drops the pitcher onto the bedside table as well, before climbing back under the covers to smother you.
And he’s really smothering you this time. In some kind of partially flattened spoon situation. He’s still behind you, just rotated to lay on his stomach now with you slightly under him. Big arm still circled around your waist, sneaky enough to slip just under your shirt to make skin-to-skin contact.
If you couldn’t get up earlier, you certainly cannot get up now. He’s basically got your shoulders pinned.
40 minutes later, and Caleb’s alarm is going off somewhere not on the nightstand. But from where he folded his clothes so neatly on your desk chair.
“Fucking Christ.” He’s cursing as he pushes up from the bed for the second time to make the ear-piercing alert stop. Turning over onto your back, you watch him through drowsy, heavy eyes as he turns his phone off.
“Aren’t you gonna go to lecture?” Muttering as you rub your eyes. Caleb turns to look at you, planting a knee on the mattress.
“Are you kicking me out?” And he’s crawling over you, silver chain dangling in your face as he pushes your knees apart just to settle on top of you.
“No…”
“Then I’m staying.” And he’s burying his face into the crook of your neck with a satisfied hum. The pressure of his body atop yours is surprisingly soothing, like a big weighted blanket.
It’s intimate. And unorthodox, if we’re being frank. First real date turned sleepover. Well, maybe it would be strange if you hadn’t kissed each other breathless five days ago. Your tongue has already been down his throat.
But the hot tub felt lustful compared to this. The touching, the kissing, the warm water, the sun going down, it was sensual.
This is domestic. Neither one of you making a move on the other. Not even speaking. Just savoring the quiet moments of the light barely coming through your curtains. Feeling his warm skin on yours.
It’s arguably more intimate than the jacuzzi incident.
Tracing his spine with your nails, you feel Caleb shiver, pressing his nose into the column of your neck. His feet peek out from under the comforter, dangling off the end of the bed.
“Higher.” He moans into your skin.
He should be the one scratching your back. Freaking lazy bum.
You still follow his direction, fingers snaking higher towards his shoulder blades.
“Right there.” And you think if he had a tail it’d be thumping against the mattress right now, leg twitching like a dog.
“Caleb.” He’s grunting in response as you continue to tickle his back. “Why’d you stay the night?”
“Didn’t wanna wake you up.” His lips move against your neck as he speaks, and yet, not a single attempt at a kiss, nip, or suck is made.
“I’m awake now.”
“I’m not.” Hand kneading your bare hip, sleep shirt just barely riding up. You can only laugh at the comment, the bounce of your lungs rattling his head. “I could sleep like this all day.”
“What time’s your first class?” Nails finding their way into his scalp. Metaphorical tail wagging even faster.
“I have dynamics at 8:30.” Looking over at your bedside clock, it’s 6:48am. You have a little more time to spend with him. “I don’t wanna get up.”
“You still have, like, 45 minutes, til you’d need to leave.” He’s lifts his head, elbow propping him up to look at you. "Or are you gonna skip that, too?" His eyes explore your features. The same features that were begging to fuck him last night.
"I haven't decided."
He's cute like this, the sleepiness making him look so youthful. Soft, downturned eyes just a little puffy from a late night. Dark brown, almost black hair disheveled and untidy. The close proximity, in addition to the warm, early morning light filtering in through the curtains lets you see the delicate freckles decorating his nose and cheekbones.
"You could stay here. I don't have class til the afternoon." And if you're being honest, you might just take the whole day off. Maybe. Probably. Definitely.
"I mean, if you insist." He's rolling his eyes, so playfully, with the most boyish grin on his face. "I'll be real, I didn't do that great of a job getting your makeup off." Caleb tries to rub off some off the mascara smudged under your eyes, to no avail.
"Wait, what do you mean?" You say, reaching over to grab your phone from the nightstand. Opening the camera, and you gasp.
You look like a damn raccoon!
"Caleb, what the hell?" You whine, licking your thumb to wet it, before swiping around your eyes. "Where did you leave my makeup remover?" He points to your vanity, where your micellar water and two unused cotton pads lay.
Gently pushing him off you, you get up to remove the rest of your makeup off. Face just an inch away from your sliding closet door mirror. Too immersed in the task at hand to see Caleb watching you, on his side, head propped on the heel of his palm. To see the way he's checking out your cute little purple polka-dot boyshort panties.
Purple is his favorite color, you know.
"There we go. No more raccoon eyes." Tossing the dirtied cotton rounds into the bin, you move to rejoin the boy in your bed. He doesn't let you just lay down next to him, no. Of course he likes you best when you're on top, straddling him.
One hand remains behind his head, big thick bicep smushed against the pillow under his head. The other settling on your hip, as you sit upon his lap.
"Liam made it look easy. Probably after doing it a billion times." Both of your hands rest on his lower abs, right next to the faint trail of hair disappearing below his waistband.
"You'll get there. If you behave."
"I am well-behaved. Got you home safe and sound, didn't I?" You tilt your head in faux thought.
"I guess you have been pretty good."
"Good enough for a reward?" He sits upright, big arms snaking around your waist as his figurative ears perk up at hearing his favorite words.
"You and your fucking rewards."
"I told you. Goal-oriented." His stupid fucking grin is so contagious.
"If we are gonna do this, can I at least go brush my teeth?"
"And what? Leave me to have fuck ass morning breath?" He laughs, pinching your sides.
"You can use my mouthwash, idiot." You quip as you scoot off the bed, nodding for him to follow. Which he does, obviously. With vigor.
Fortunately it's still too early for Tara to be up, so no chance of running into her with your next-to-nude frat boy in tow. Hot on your tail, he follows you right into your teeny-tiny shared bathroom. Two arms crowding you against the counter as you brush your teeth. Weirdly charged eye contact in the mirror as you both swish swish swish around your mouthwash. He spits, you spit, and suddenly you're being thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and hauled back to your bedroom. Hand over your mouth to contain your yelps.
He's oh-so-gingerly laying you back down on the bed, crawling over you, lips just grazing yours.
"You're not still drunk from last night, right?" You shake your head.
"Definitely not."
"Good."
That initial press of his kisses will never not be fucking electric.
The smooth push and pull of his lips against yours, until you're both wanting, craving, starving for more. His tongue coming out to trace the seam of your lips, requesting access so politely.
A heavy hand caressing your jaw. An even heavier hand sneaking under the hem of your sleep shirt to hold and knead your bare waist. Just testing what you're comfortable with.
The moment from last night, of you kissing down his neck, giving him your best "Fuck Me" eyes, holding onto him so tightly, is rushing through your head.
You don't think that desire was quenched. It's only been worsening all morning. Him denying your drunk advances actually made him significantly sexier.
And in combination with the morning clinginess, the sleep-mussed hair, the cute little freckles...
Yeah. You're fucking this guy.
A gentle push to his shoulders has him obediently rolling over, grip sliding down to your hips to keep you on top of him. But when you're sitting upright, hand on his chest to keep him from following your lead up, he can only make a low noise of confusion.
Until your hands grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it overhead, letting your perky tits bounce softly at the freedom.
If you couldn't already feel his stiffening cock all morning, he was certain it was apparent now.
Big, downturned eyes lock straight onto your chest, right as you're grabbing his hands, and placing them over your breasts. His mouth slightly agape, tenderly groping and squeezing the flesh.
Caleb moves to sit upright, hot mouth enveloping a pert nipple while nimble fingers tweak and pinch the other one. You're carding a hand through his bedhead, lust blown eyes looking straight into yours as he sucks on your tits.
Cock getting harder with each little breath and whimper that escapes you.
Uncontrollable jerks of his hips have him rutting into you, the cotton of his boxers grinding against that of your panties.
After sufficiently drooling all over your perfect boobs, he's flipping you back under him with a single arm around your waist. Firm bulge deliciously dragging over the quickly dampening patch on your underwear, letting you feel his heavy length just begging for relief. Hot, messy kisses dance all over your cheeks, your jaw, your neck, your tits, to your lips.
"Feel how fucking hard you get me?" He's whispering into your mouth, swallowing your little pleas for more, more, more. "Come on, wanna make you feel good, baby."
One of Caleb’s big hands massages down, down, down your figure to your panties, cupping your pussy over the fabric. Teasing strokes along your slit as he nibbles and sucks at every inch of skin on your neck.
Just as his fingers begin to breach your waistband, you stop him. Not wanting to go any further unless you know it can end in bliss. Hazy bedroom eyes gazing into yours.
“Condom.”
The boy just about leaps off the bed, digging his wallet out of the pants folded on the desk chair. But when he opens it, he has to do a double take.
Because there’s no fucking condom.
He’s frantically thumbing through each fold and card slot of his wallet, as if one is going to miraculously appear after the 10th search. Patting down the pockets of his pants, before turning back to you.
“I don’t have one.” The scene in front of you is… almost comical. This gigantic man, who is clearly hard as a fucking rock, red in the face, looks like he is about to cry. You lean back on your elbows, trying not to laugh at his reaction.
In a perfect world, the missing condom would be no big deal. You got an IUD not long before the end of your last relationship, so it’s definitely still effective. And you haven’t slept with anyone since then, so you know you’re clean.
The problem is Caleb’s sexual history. He admitted to sleeping with someone a few weeks ago, and there is no way for you to know what kind of protection they used, if any.
He must understand that, because he’s not giving you the whole “I’ll pull out, I swear,” spiel. He drops onto the bed, sitting back on his calves. Figurative ears going flat against his head in shame.
“I’m not upset, Caleb.” You reassure him, the guilt written all over his face. He falls forward, nose pressing into your stomach with a groan as your nails scratch his scalp.
The implications of his position must hit you at the same time, because your fingers freeze in his hair as he presses a soft kiss right below your belly button. And another along the waistband of your panties.
“You don’t have to.” It comes out shyer than you intended, seeing his dilated pupils eclipse the color of his irises.
“Please let me eat you out.”
And he’s nuzzling his face against your mound, twitchy fingers waiting to tug your panties down and bury himself in your heat.
“Caleb, really, it’s fine—“
“I want to. Please.”
The hand in his hair curves around to stroke his cheek. He leans into your touch like a dog, yearning puppy eyes begging you to say “yes.”
“Okay.”
Like a trained animal hearing its command, Caleb is pressing a kiss to your palm as trembling hands pull your underwear down your legs. Strong arms wind themselves around your hips, settling your thighs over impossibly broad shoulders.
“Thank you.” He’s mumbling it, not sure if it’s to you or her, right as his flattened tongue drags from your dripping hole to your clit, lips closing around the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucking.
You slap a hand over your mouth to not wake Tara up.
Caleb, on the other hand, is groaning unashamed into your pussy, the vibrations aiding in stimulation.
“Nghh— You’re so fucking sweet…” Tongue dipping in and out of your clenching hole, nose nudging your cute little button. When his mouth inches up to suck and nip at your throbbing clit, you can feel him inhale your scent so deeply, nosing your pubic hair.
Unbeknownst to you, Caleb thrusts his raging erection into the mattress in time with each push of his tongue into your pussy. Desperate for any kind of friction to relieve his achingly hard cock.
“Fuck— Haahh…” The frat boy is so vocal as he devours your heat, unabashed moans and grunts of your name. A hand leaves your hip to insert a thick finger into your empty pussy. Lewd gaze locked onto your expression as it curls against your tight walls.
“Dripping down my fucking hand, dirty girl.” Caleb mumbles against your clit, as he twists and curves the digit, feeling around for that sweet spot that’ll have you seeing stars. A particularly harsh spasm of your hips, along with a squeeze from your pussy around his finger, tells him he found it. No time wasted, he continues to massage and prod the gummy spot, watching the way your face contorts with pleasure. “Come on, make a fucking mess for me.”
“Caleb, more…” Although thick and long, his one finger has you feening for another. Like the good boy he is, his index joins his middle inside of you, tongue gently flicking your clit to loosen you up.
Your spine arches as your hips buck into his mouth, his own hips chasing pleasure in time with the rhythm of his fingers.
“I’m gonna fucking cum— oh my god…” You’re whining into the back of your hand as his whimpers and grunts send vibrations up your channel. His second hand finally abandons your hip to reach into his boxers, tugging his cock out to stroke and push it into your bedsheets.
“Fuck, baby— cum on my face, cum on my face…” Caleb’s fingers relentlessly fuck into you, bending and massaging right against that gummy spot that has your eyes screwing shut in bliss. Head thrown back, spine arching off the bed, you can’t even enjoy the sight of Caleb aggressively jerking his huge fucking dick into your comforter. The feeling, taste, and smell of your sloppy pussy about to send him right off the deep end.
“Hnngh, Caleb— I’m cumming!” The plea is muffled by your own fist, your other hand gripping your sheets as your orgasm washes over you, thighs twitching around his shoulders.
The pleasure quickly becoming too much as his tongue continues to abuse your trembling pussy. His groans and grunts only getting louder and closer together when your hand digs into his scalp, trying so desperately to push him away.
“Caleb, I— I can’t!” You prop yourself up one elbow, just in time for the finishing act.
To watch Caleb press his face as deeply as he can into your sopping wet cunt, one last inhale and taste of your addictively sweet essence. Before his pretty pink cock is spurting ropes of creamy, white cum onto your sheets.
His back rises and falls with each heavy breath, head resting against the inside of your thigh as you both stare at the streaks of his cum on your bed.
“Holy shit.” He breathes, before lifting his face to look at you. Cheeks bright red, eyes glassed over, chin shiny with your juices. While making eye contact with you, he’s using his thumb to wipe your fluids off his lips.
Before pushing the digit into his mouth and sucking it clean.
Heavy gaze watching his tongue clean your slick off his fingers, he climbs up the bed to lay next to you, chest still heaving from his intense orgasm.
The two of you lay motionless for a minute, his boxers still pulled under his softening cock, you stark naked.
“Did I do good?” He finally breaks the silence, tucking his dick back into his underwear as he leans over you, pressing a kiss to your neck.
“That was really good, yeah.” Turning your head to let him kiss you on the lips. He tastes like your orgasm. “I didn’t know you were gonna cum, too.”
“I’d been holding it since I sucked on these perfect tits.” He laughs, hand coming up to gently cup your breast. The fingers teasing your nipple make you jerk away from his touch. “Sorry about the condom thing.”
“No, it’s fine, really. I should keep some on me anyways.”
“I prefer the Trojan Magnum Bareskin ones.” He wiggles his eyebrows as he leans in for another kiss, and you push him back with a palm to his forehead.
The rest of the morning is slow. He helps you replace your sheets with clean ones. Makes you cum again. Begs you to tickle his back. Talks about his friends back home. Kisses you senseless. Falls asleep. Wakes up. Makes you cum again.
You’re wearing his henley from the night before, clean panties, curled up against him after what you think was your third orgasm. He’s letting you show him silly instagram reels, the two of you pretending like each minute in bed isn’t going to bite you in the ass when it’s time to be productive later.
“Wait, I wanna see your account.” He’s trying to tap the profile icon, but you’re swatting his hand away. “Why not?”
A week ago, you laid in this bed and touched yourself to pictures of the man literally laid out under you. Imagined him doing exactly what he just did to you.
The memory has you a little shy.
“I don’t know, it’s embarrassing.” You’re giggling as he tugs your legs over his lap.
“What could possibly be so embarrassing?”
“I don’t know, it’s just like… pictures of me.”
“Yeah, I’d hope so. Lemme see.” He’s holding his hand out, a silent request to peruse your profile. You give in, flipping to your account for him to explore.
Caleb scrolls through your posts, flicking through each carousel and zooming in on every single image. Nosy fucker.
“I like your instagram. It’s cute.” He takes his time to admire every post, read the comments, and whatnot. “You’re cute.”
Eventually reaching your older pictures, dating all the way back to your high school days.
“I don’t think these are embarrassing.”
“Well, obviously. They aren’t of you. You would be embarrassed if I looked at your high school pictures.”
“I do have pictures of me from high school on my profile. Look.”
And before you can even realize what’s about to happen, Caleb is clicking into the search tab.
The two most recently searched accounts. @/chisigmawave. And right below it. @/calebxia.
You don’t even know what to say to get yourself out of this one. The two of you stare silently at the profiles in your search history.
“…Why am I in your search history.” You don’t have to see his face to know he’s smiling. He taps on his own account. Private, you already knew that. He sends a follow request.
“I can explain.” Small hand closing over his to power your phone off before he somehow digs up even more incriminating evidence. Like he’s gonna open the fraternity Instagram page and there’s going to be a comically large sign saying “I JACKED OFF TO A PHOTO OF CALEB XIA.”
That’s not possible. You’re being paranoid now.
“Okay. Explain. I wanna know why you were stalking me.” He teases, moving to settle over you. You wouldn’t describe him as intimidating right now. I mean, he’s smiling, for Christs sake.
But he just makes you feel so small and shy like this. His large frame dwarfing yours. The teasing.
“I told you in the hot tub. I wanted to know who you were.”
“But you had to already know who I was if you searched for me on here.”
Fuck. He’s good.
“I wanted to know more about you. Besides your name and face.” It’s a truthful statement. Just not the whole truth.
“You were crushing on me.” He says in a sing-song tone, placing a couple kisses along your jaw. “You little stalker.”
“Looking you up on instagram is not stalking.” Jacking off to him on instagram might meet the stalking standard.
“Should I google the definition of ‘stalking?’ Or am I gonna find my address plugged into Zillow or something?” Caleb snickers, trying to plant another kiss, but you evade.
“If you want to come at me for stalking,” air-quotes around “stalking,” of course, “then I want to talk about the little stunt you pulled at Astras.” Jamming a finger into his chest.
“Because it was total coincidence Tara texted me about your party less than 2 minutes after I turned you down. Right.”
He doesn’t seem embarrassed about it. Not in the slightest.
“Yeah. I got up to tell Gideon to text her. So what?”
Okay. Well. Your plan to turn the tables on him doesn’t really work if you can’t get under his skin to begin with. You’re left just… gawking at his audacity.
“It was… manipulative!”
“Okay, but it worked.” He’s really not seeing the issue, huh.
“Caleb.”
“I wanted you to come. And you kept telling me no.”
“That doesn’t mean you can involve your little army of frat bros.”
“Army is generous. More like small militia.”
“Caleb.”
“Okay, okay. No more being sneaky.”
“Thank you.” He’s pressing his face into the column of your neck. “I was expecting Gideon to be behind the bar at Skyhaven, after the Astra incident.” You laugh.
He goes silent. You tug him out of your neck by the hair at his nape.
“Don’t tell me Gideon was supposed to work last night.”
“No, Gideon isn’t even 21 yet.” He pauses, stupid grin coming over his face. “It was supposed to be Liam.”
You both decide it's time to call it around noon. Finally acknowledging the amount of work you were putting off by rotting in bed all morning. Tara must still be on campus, you haven't seen her at all.
Well, you've been in your room all morning. It's more so you haven't heard her.
Walking Caleb to the front door, in nothing but his jeans, shoes dangling off his fingers. You're still in his shirt. Tried to give it back to him, his response, "Bring it back next time you're over."
As you lean against the open door frame of your entryway, Caleb stands on your porch as he drags out the goodbye.
"You're coming to Sig Wave Friday night. Board decided on the theme last night. Stoplight party."
"What if I'm busy?"
"I know you're not." You roll your eyes at the cockiness.
"Whatever. Go home, loser." Crossing your arms over your chest, Caleb steps just a little closer for one final goodbye kiss.
A gentle, innocent smooch, warm hand sliding over your jaw for just a second, before he's pulling away.
"See ya." With a sexy, ladykiller smirk, Caleb is retreating down your porch, into his 4Runner, and going home.
You skip your afternoon lecture, although you did have plenty of time to shower and freshen up. The lingering effects of last night were just barely clearing your system, even with the slow, ultra-relaxing morning.
Tara marches in from campus around 5. You had taken your iPad to the couch to get some reading done.
“Hey.” You greet as she trudges in, long day of lectures weighing on her. “How were classes?”
“Boring. The usual.” She’s setting her bag down at one of the kitchen island chairs, admiring the pasta jar full of flowers resting on the counter. “The flowers he got you are cute. I was hoping to debrief this morning, but you were still asleep.” She snickers, making her way to the fridge.
“Yeah, we didn’t get back til late.” You’re mentally preparing yourself to give her all the raunchy details, but she interrupts you.
“Where the fuck is the Brita?”
don't get comfortable guys next chapter lowkey maybe might possibly be a shit show :D
feedback is welcome and appreciated! i love hearing what you guys think of the series <3
[Evan's 1st Birthday Event] A Journey in Full Bloom (繁花绮旅)
♡———♡
When my field work ended, a sudden downpour began.
As I was watching the rain, I saw a familiar car slowly pass through the dense curtain of rain and stop by the steps.
The rear window was already rolled down. I bent down to look inside and saw Evan's sharp jawline.
Evan: This place isn't far from the airport. I saw your message after my flight landed, so I just came by since it was on the way.
The convention center is in the city center, so it couldn't really be considered "on the way."
I lowered my body a little more to see his eyes. Before I could even say a word, a smile appeared beneath his gold-rimmed glasses.
Evan: Get in.
After I put on my seatbelt, Evan didn't drive off right away. Instead, he opened the armrest and took out a bowl of sweet soup.
You: For me?
Evan: Didn't you say on the phone that you wanted something sweet?
I took out the paper bowl from the paper bag. The name of the shop printed on it seemed familiar. My fingertips paused for a moment as I took off the lid.
A warm fragrance filled the air, stirring up a vague memory.
You: This is... the shaved ice shop?
Evan: Mm.
Back then, I had just started at Wanzen. Evan went with me to look for a place to rent. Our stomachs were growling, so we hid inside a small sweet soup shop— I remember it was also a rainy day.
But back then, it was shaved ice filled with fruit. Now, it was steaming red bean soup.
I was afraid it would be hot, so I took a small sip first. It was very soft and not too sweet, so I spooned it into my mouth, one spoonful at a time.
Evan: You're eating so intently. What are you thinking about?
You: I'm just thinking about what to get you in return.
I pointed to the red bean soup in my hand, acting as if I were in his debt.
Evan: It looks like you've come up with a good idea.
Zhou Yan in the front seat lowered the partition and handed Evan his vibrating phone.
Evan: I'm sorry, can you wait for me for a moment?
He switched the phone from his left ear to his right. His gaze wandered over a few stacks of thick documents.
You: Do you need this one?
I pointed to the proposal on my side. The person across from me relaxed his brows and reached out to take it.
He listened and replied simply, flipping open the documents on the table and quickly adding annotations.
Raindrops bounced and splashed on the tightly closed car window, casting a layer of light spots on Guangqi City after nightfall.
I watched quietly for a while, and then I couldn't help but quietly move my gaze toward Evan, just as he hung up the phone and looked over at me.
Evan: Stealing a glance at me?
I quickly moved my gaze away from him, feeling a little guilty.
You: If you weren't looking at me, how would you know I was looking at you?
You: Well, is it solved?
Evan: Mm, there was something urgent that needed approval. I'll confirm it once I get back to the company.
After a brief pause, Evan suddenly opened his palm and extended it toward me.
You: Huh?
Evan: Aren't you supposed to give me a return gift?
He said, and then moved it a little closer, looking at me with great interest.
I made eye contact with him for a few seconds and then placed my phone on his palm.
The screen lit up. The memo was filled with a long list of travel plans.
You: Then what if... I said I wanted to celebrate your birthday for you? Would that count as a return gift?
You: Your birthday is coming up next weekend, right?
Evan was stunned for a moment, and then the corner of his lips curved up slightly.
His gaze wandered as if he were looking into the deepest part of the rain and fog behind me.
Evan: Yeah, my birthday is coming up.
Evan: So, you're going to hand over the right to choose our plans to me?
You: I was going to.
With a light touch of my fingers, I deleted the options. The list of plans was instantly blank.
You: But now, all of this is off.
I gave a mischievous smile and quickly pulled a notepad out of my bag, tearing off a few pages.
You: Where did the pen go...?
Evan: Use mine.
Evan handed me his fountain pen. His thumb pad lightly brushed against my palm. It was the pen he had just been using.
You: I'll write down ten locations, and you write down ten things to do.
You: After we fold them, we'll both draw from them at the same time, and we'll celebrate your birthday according to those combinations!
Seeing that Evan didn't reply, I cupped my chin and moved a little closer to him.
You: Are you scared?
When he heard the word "scared," Evan also leaned in, just like I did.
Evan: What do you think?
He calmly curved his lips into a smile. His warm breath came toward me.
I sheepishly averted my gaze and pushed the notepad toward him. For a moment, the only sound in the car was the scratching of pens.
Evan: You spent so much time on this plan. Isn't it a shame to just delete it?
I shook my head, and after thinking for a bit, I spoke.
You: No. I just thought you're so busy every day.
You: If even your birthday is just a checklist, then it's no different from any other day.
You: Am I right, President Lu?
The fountain pen made its last stroke on the notepad. The streetlights outside the car flickered, and their light fell into his gentle eyes.
After we shuffled the folded pieces of paper, Evan and I each drew four from the piles of locations and things-to-do.
The pairs of successful strips of paper were placed on the table, like test papers waiting to be graded.
Evan: You look even more nervous than I am.
You: I'm just wondering if we should see this dare through to the end.
Evan: See this dare through to the end?
You: Mm, would you be willing not to look at what's on the paper first?
You: I'll organize the results of our drawing, go scouting beforehand, and keep the surprise for you until the day of your birthday.
Evan raised his hand and ruffled my hair.
Evan: Okay, then I'll put myself in your hands.
Our fingertips touched. I touched his palm through the pen, which still held a bit of warmth.
You: No problem! It's going to be the most special birthday. I promise.
Evan: Just being with you is already the most special birthday.
The car window opened a crack. The evening breeze scattered the smiling last syllable of his words.
-
On Evan's birthday, I woke up very early.
The milk was still warming in the microwave, and the fried egg was half-cooked. I casually wiped my hands and shuffled in my slippers to get my phone.
I had already made all the reservations for the places we were going. The locations were all in Xizhi District, so Evan wouldn't have to go too far.
After confirming the details one more time, I was finally able to relax a little.
You: I hope everything goes smoothly!
I wrote a new status on my Moments. The picture I posted was of a little fist for good luck.
Almost as soon as I sent it, Evan's phone call came in.
Evan: Good morning.
The room was very quiet. A gentle breeze lifted, throwing golden shards of sunlight into my arms.
Instead of "good morning," there was a phrase that felt more fitting as an opening line.
You: Happy birthday, Evan.
It was just as quiet on the other end of the line. I felt as if I could only make out his slow, gentle breaths.
Evan: Maybe you can say that to me again when we meet in a little bit?
You: The birthday person is the most important. You can hear it as many times as you want!
Evan couldn't help but laugh. The subtle static on the line made his voice sound even deeper and smoother.
Evan: It seems I have a lot of privileges today.
Evan: Are you still tired? Do you want to sleep a little more? We still have plenty of time.
I was just about to say something when I heard a burst of laughter from the phone.
At the same time, I heard a similar sound on my end, almost in sync.
You: Wait—
I stood frozen for two seconds, then jumped out of bed and rushed to the entryway.
The moment I opened the door, the warm winter sun streamed in, filling the entire hallway.
You: When did you get here...?
Tiny specks of light fell on Evan's shoulders. He turned sideways and met my gaze.
Evan: I just got here.
You: I should be the one going to your place!
Today is his birthday. There's no reason for him to come all this way just to pick me up.
Evan: Didn't you say just now that I have a lot of privileges?
Evan: Then let me use one of them early and change the starting point of our day. Is that alright?
At that moment, I was still in my nightgown. The hat barely covered my head, and its two floppy bunny ears hung down.
You: I... I'm not ready yet!
Evan: It's okay. I'll wait for you.
Evan reached out and moved the disobedient ears back to their original position.
Suddenly, a burnt smell wafted from the kitchen.
You: Oh no!
It was only then that I remembered a poor egg was still struggling in the frying pan.
Evan: I'll handle it.
Evan smiled helplessly, hung his jacket on the freestanding coat rack in the entryway, and went straight into the kitchen.
I quickly brewed the coffee. The rich aroma of the beans diluted some of the burnt smell.
Evan placed the breakfast on the small table on the balcony and took a sip of his coffee.
Evan: It's Geisha coffee. It tastes like something you would like.
He paused, and his gaze moved to me.
Evan: Did I disrupt your rhythm by suddenly showing up?
You: Of course not. It's my fault for being so slow. I didn't expect that I'd even have to rely on you for breakfast in the end.
Evan handed me the other cup of coffee, freed a hand, wrapped it around my waist, and leaned in slightly.
Evan: Then I should have just come over last night, so my little bunny wouldn't have been so clumsy this morning.
The area behind my ear uncontrollably grew warm. I quickly turned around.
You: I'm going to go change.
...
I hid in the walk-in closet and let out a long sigh. A few strands of my hair brushed against my nose, still carrying the faint scent of coffee.
Through the crack in the door, Evan's gentle back gradually filled my view, and my heart was filled with anticipation.
Today is going to be a very, very good day.
It's been a rare good day since the beginning of winter.
The sculpture plaza in front of us is a landmark in Xizhi District. It has existed since the last century and still retains its traditional European style.
The symmetrical, smooth lines outline elegant and complex patterns that have faded slightly with age.
You: The first location we drew was here.
The warm sun shone brightly, drying up the last bit of my damp nervousness.
I turned and stood in front of Evan, walking backward one step at a time.
You: Do you want to guess what we drew to do?
Evan placed a finger on his chin, as if he were deep in thought.
Evan: From what I remember, the things I wrote were all very normal.
Evan: But judging by your expression, it looks like you're saying it's time to give me a hard time?
You: Not at all!
I held the notepad in front of Evan, blocking the smile that was hanging on his lips.
You: Ta-da! Driving in a sculpture plaza. How is this giving you a hard time?!
Evan took the small piece of paper and calmly looked around.
Evan: Driving is easy enough, but this plaza is a restricted driving zone.
I tugged on the corner of his jacket and confidently raised my eyebrows.
You: Come with me!
As we walked through the crowd, laughter mixed with cheerful music became clearer and clearer.
Evan: This is...
In the west corner of the plaza, a dozen toy cars for children were parked in a row.
To fit the overall style of Xizhi District, they were designed to look like old-fashioned convertibles. They were both exquisite and vintage.
I secretly caught a hint of Evan's rare hesitation, and I couldn't help but smile.
You: I couldn't help it. These are the only official vehicles allowed to drive in the plaza.
I nodded at the staff member in charge of the rentals not far away and pressed the lock button.
Before I had even settled in my seat, the spot beside me sank slightly.
Facing Evan, I couldn't help but laugh.
You: It's like I suddenly went back to when I was little. I was short, so everything looked so big.
I patted the control area on the driver's side.
You: The steering wheel is all yours.
Evan was probably already observing the car's structure the moment he sat down. When he heard what I said, he slightly tilted his head.
Evan: You trust me that much?
You: Of course. You can drive wherever you want.
He gently turned the small handle on the right side of the steering wheel. After a few simple tests, he quickly learned how to move forward.
You: Not bad! Not bad! It's moving!
The taillights lit up, creating a gentle breeze in the plaza. It felt as if the whole world had shrunk into this small space.
The central fountain rose and fell with the melodious music. The sunlight plated each flying droplet of water with a faint layer of gold.
Evan: Did you really like playing this when you were a kid?
You: Mm, but I have a terrible sense of direction.
You: Sometimes when there are too many cars, I get nervous. I'd want to turn left, but when I hit the gas, I'd end up going right instead.
Evan: Like this?
Evan suddenly made a sharp turn, and the car's body turned 180 degrees.
You: !
The sudden inertia pushed me into his arms.
In the limited space of the toy car, our clothes rubbed against each other, and I could feel the trace of every wrinkle that formed.
You: Why did you suddenly speed up?!
Evan: I'm sorry. I just wanted to see what the toy car's limits were.
Even though Evan was apologizing, his gentle words clearly hid a mischievous smile.
I heard the same engine sound from behind me. A pink toy car quickly caught up to us.
A young mother and her daughter were in the car, and their joyful laughter slowly dissipated in the wind.
As they drove past, the little girl suddenly turned her head from her mother's arms and waved to us with all her might.
Child: Handsome Uncle! Did you also bring this pretty Jiejie out for a ride?
I couldn't help but purse my lips into a smile. I mimicked the little girl's action and linked my arm with the person beside me.
You: No, Jiejie is the one who brought him.
Then I leaned on Evan's shoulder and added a sentence in a volume that only the two of us could hear.
You: So today, I'm little Evan's guardian.
At this close distance, I could even see every single one of his lowered eyelashes.
Evan was stunned for a moment. The eyes behind his glasses were gradually tinged with a soft smile.
It seemed as if her mother had reminded her of something. The little girl turned her head to face us again.
Child: I hope handsome Uncle and the pretty Jiejie have as much fun as I am! And... that you can come ride the little car every day!
Evan and I looked at each other and smiled, waving at her.
The convertible toy car drove forward. The cold wind that brushed against our faces became gentle in the sunlight.
The hand that was originally resting on the side of the seat was suddenly enveloped by Evan's large hand.
You: Huh?
He put one hand on the steering wheel, slightly lifted his index finger, and pointed to a road sign not too far away.
The sign had a yellow warning on it that read: To prevent getting lost, all parents should hold onto their little ones' hands.
Evan: Weren't you going to be my guardian?
Half of his body moved a little closer to me. Our hair intertwined.
Evan: You have to follow the rules.
You: ...Mm!
The fountain once again shot out a jet of water, like a continuous stream of transparent fireworks.
I gently squeezed Evan's hand back. He slipped his fingers through mine, locking in all of his warmth.
...
Evan: Be careful. There's another step ahead.
We got out of the small toy car, and now we were in an oversized Class A motorhome.
The motorhome was fully equipped. The living room was connected to an open kitchen, and a small round table facing the TV was piled with colorful fizzy drinks.
Evan: I didn't expect there to be a motorhome of this model in the city.
You: Of course. Without a space this big, how are we supposed to fight?
Evan: Fight?
Evan paused for a moment and then let out a light laugh.
Evan: Oh, I see.
You: I've always wanted to ask you, why did you write "fight"?
You: I looked at the small piece of paper over and over again, and I thought I was seeing things.
Evan: Mm...
Evan put his index finger to the corner of his lips and looked at me with great interest.
Evan: It's probably because you occasionally bare your teeth and brandish your claws while bouncing around, looking like you want to challenge me to a duel.
You: No way!
I quietly tried to argue my case. I walked on the thick carpet toward the bedroom. Evan closed the door, pursed his lips into a smile, and followed me.
Evan: I'm curious. In a certain little lady's mind, what kind of place should the word "fight" be paired with?
You: Probably a place like a boxing gym, where you can let out some stress.
You: But in a motorhome, it's a little hard to do.
I looked around, thinking about how we could have a "safe fight," when a soft thing suddenly hit my arm.
I looked up in confusion and saw Evan weighing the pillow in his hand.
Evan: How about we use this?
He moved his body, revealing a pile of soft pillows of all sizes in the corner of the room.
I froze for two seconds, then immediately reacted. I snatched the pillow from his hand and quickly counterattacked.
You: Hehe, one-to-one, it's a tie!
Evan laughed and took a few steps back. He picked up a long pillow to use as a weapon.
I decisively chased after him, not giving him any room to think.
You: Take this--!
The moment I finished speaking, the pillow flew straight out of my hand.
My fingertip caught the zipper and slid it down, accidentally tearing open the seam. In an instant, goose feathers scattered in the air like snow.
Amidst the flying white feathers, a pillow came flying toward me. It barely grazed my arm before falling to the ground.
You: That was a close one!
I randomly picked a few light pillows and threw them one after another, but each time I missed, hitting just the corner of his clothes.
Even though Evan was mostly on the defensive, he wasn't flustered at all. He even had a certain grace.
I, on the other hand, was like a clueless little bunny, chasing after him desperately and scrambling all over the place.
You: How come I feel like... you haven't moved from your spot?
Evan laughed. The curve of his lips was a little deeper than before.
Evan: So if I get a little closer to you, will it be a little easier?
You: Don't let me win on purpose! I can definitely win on my own!
But even with him going so easy on me, I still couldn't hit Evan.
Most of the pillows I threw would either skim past his hair or fly toward his calves.
You: Huff... huff...
Evan's tall figure was only two steps away, separated by a sea of goose feathers.
The moment he stopped, I quickly grabbed a pillow that was almost completely torn open and swiped it forward--
I was too eager and used too much force. The inertia, like an invisible hand, pushed me hard on the back.
You: !!
Before my gasp of surprise could even fall, my whole body flew straight forward.
Evan: Watch out!
Evan took a big step forward and caught me. We both fell heavily into a pile of pillows.
The disturbed goose feathers scattered and drifted in the air.
Evan: Are you okay?
His hands were wrapped tightly around my waist. Our noses were just a hair's breadth away from each other.
You: I'm fine. What about you?
Our lower bodies were pressed against each other. My slightly bent knees could even touch Evan's legs.
I instinctively moved my body a little, and his chest suddenly became tense.
Evan: What's wrong?
Evan's voice was already low, but now it sounded faintly hoarse.
You: I was just thinking, did I hit you just now?
I lowered my head, completely defenseless. He was slightly stunned, and the corners of his eyes and lips curved up helplessly.
Evan: You did.
You: Really?! Then let's continue!
I tried to push myself up from the floor, but Evan gently grabbed my wrist.
His fingertips brushed against my back and he pushed down with a skillful touch.
The upper half of my body, which I had just managed to push up, fell back down again. A warm sensation gradually came through the fabric.
You: Mm... Are we not playing anymore?
Evan: Let's rest for a bit.
Evan closed his eyes, and his steady breath brushed against my ear, making the tip of it feel a little hot.
As my gaze wandered, a very thin feather floated down and landed on his left cheek.
You: Evan.
Evan: Mm?
I grabbed his arm and leaned in a little.
You: Huff—
The feather gently lifted in the breeze. Evan's breathing paused for a moment.
You: Okay.
He didn't say anything. His gentle hand went to the back of my head, shortening the distance between us, little by little.
I was clearly on top, but the person underneath me was still in control.
I nervously clutched the corner of his jacket. Suddenly, his breathing stopped at the most dangerous spot.
Evan opened his eyes a crack and looked at me with a half-smile.
Evan: Thank you.
I was stunned for a long time. After we made eye contact for a few seconds with me pursing my lips, I started to laugh.
You: You were teasing me! Mm... I'll punish you by having you help me clean this mess up!
The hand around my waist loosened, and his expression relaxed as well.
Evan: Okay.
The soft winter sunlight leaked through the shadows of the trees, dappling an unremarkable wooden sign.
"Film Photo Studio," the oldest photo studio in Xizhi District.
We pushed the door open and went inside. A little white cat jumped down from the table, lazily stretched its body, and then leaped to Evan's feet, affectionately rubbing against him.
You: It seems to really like you.
Evan: Maybe that's because it's not the first time we've met.
You: Huh?
Evan: I used to drive by here a lot and would often see it wandering around this area.
Evan: Before the owner took it in, I brought it food a few times.
As we were talking, the little white cat leaped forward, leading us through a variety of photo studios.
We walked all the way to the innermost room. The lighting was great. You could even see dust floating in the air.
You: This is the prop room. The owner is still shooting, so he told us to wait for him here.
Evan: So, "having a class in a photo studio"... is actually learning photography?
You: Bingo!
I simply adjusted the parameters and handed a full-frame DSLR to Evan.
You: From what I remember, you seem to really enjoy working with machines.
Before, at the watch collector's workshop, the concentration and enjoyment that Evan unintentionally showed made him look radiant.
You: Give it a try. Maybe you'll also be interested in cameras.
Evan flipped the viewfinder of the camera and tried switching to different shooting modes.
You: There are many ways to compose a picture. As for me, I usually prefer using leading lines.
I moved a little closer to Evan, took the camera in his hands, and pointed the lens at a corner of the prop room.
You: Roads, rivers, trees, and even people's gazes can be used as leading lines to attract the viewer's eye.
Evan: So, as long as there is a linear relationship, it works?
You: Exactly. For example, like this--
I picked up a marker and started drawing on the whiteboard, trying to show the unique features of the composition as straightforwardly as possible.
Click-- I suddenly heard the sound of a camera shutter from behind me.
I turned around and saw Evan holding the camera, moving the lens away from me.
You: Why are you taking a sneak photo of me?!
Evan: Was I? I was just trying out leading lines composition.
Just as he finished speaking, he unhurriedly walked up to me and took the marker from my hand.
I leaned in curiously, wanting to see what he was drawing.
Unfortunately, Evan was so tall that I could only try to lean forward.
Evan: Teacher.
You: Huh?
Before I could react, Evan suddenly raised a hand and put it on the whiteboard, completely enclosing me in the crook of his arm.
This was a distance that was too close. The marker's mark on the whiteboard drew a flirtatious impression on my heart.
Evan: Does a composition like this work, too?
I instinctively followed Evan's question with my eyes and met his gaze. He, however, suddenly leaned in.
You: I'm really just an amateur...
Evan: Is that so? But I think you're a great teacher.
Evan reached out, took off his glasses, and put them on my face. A hint of flirtation settled in his eyes.
Evan: I hope Teacher Y/N will give me many pointers.
With our heartbeats overlapping, I could only let my cheeks turn crimson, little by little.
So I simply spread my palm open and looked up to meet his gaze.
You: So, student Evan, what did you just take a picture of? Can I see?
Evan: Of course. But before that, I want to practice with one more shot.
Evan raised his camera, and I heard the whirring of the autofocus.
You: Isn't this a little too close?
Evan: Is it?
He curved his lips into a smile. The camera that was between us instantly vanished, leaving only our close breaths.
Evan: I remember a certain photographer once said that if your photos aren't good enough, it's because you're not close enough.
His warm voice breathed against my ear, like a carefully laid trap.
Suddenly, a flash went off, but it wasn't from the camera in Evan's hands.
The door to the prop room had been pushed open at some point. The little white cat meowed and dashed in, breaking the romantic atmosphere.
I followed the sound with my eyes. The owner put down his camera and scratched his head shyly.
Owner: Uh... the lighting was so good, I couldn't resist.
I quickly moved away from Evan and instinctively touched my hot earlobe.
He, however, naturally took my hand and sat down beside me.
The short photography lesson officially began. The owner's explanation was simple and easy to understand, and before I knew it, it was evening.
Hidden by the desk, his fingers, which were pressed against my palm, never let go.
While the owner turned to demonstrate a shot, Evan's deliberately lowered voice quietly slipped past.
Evan: Listening to the little teacher's class is still more interesting.
I still pretended to listen attentively, but my heart felt as if it had been brushed by a feather.
One by one, amidst the continuous clicks of the shutter, we slowly intertwined our fingers, gently rubbing the lines on each other's palms.
The sunset streamed in through the window. The moment the camera captured the shot was particularly quiet and gentle.
It wasn't until we left the photo studio that I realized the sunset had already gathered all its light.
Our elongated shadows on the concrete stretched all the way to the corner where the neon lights were flashing.
We followed the crowd into the live house. Everyone had a cyan stamp with a different number on the back of their hand. It was the unique entry pass.
You: Evan, over here!
The noise that came toward us immediately separated us. I stood on my tiptoes and cupped my hands around my mouth.
Just as I finished speaking, the deep bass created a sound wave, and the cheers climbed higher and higher.
Men and women swayed their heads, pogoed wildly, and let out all their pent-up emotions.
Evan stopped. He carefully made out the shape of my lips and quickly walked toward me.
I held up my phone and waved the screen in front of him.
The note in the picture! It read "live house" and "listen to music." What a rare, perfect match.
You: If others whistle, just follow along. If everyone shouts "encore," then you shout "encore" with them.
You: In short, you can do whatever you want. The most important thing is to enjoy yourself!
Light and shadow constantly alternated on Evan's face, sweeping over his unbuttoned sweater.
Perhaps because everyone here was so close, I wasn't afraid to stand close to him.
You: Is it too loud? Do you want to go to the front and take a look?
Evan bent down in the roaring crowd, and his hot breath fell on my ear.
Evan: Are you worried about me?
You: Mm, I was worried you would feel out of place.
You: After all... this must be your first time here, right?
The moment the light ball spun around, he grabbed my waist, and a thoughtful smile curved on his lips.
Evan: Okay, then this will be my first time.
What does "then" mean...?
Before I had time to figure out the deeper meaning, two familiar numbers came out of the microphone.
Lead Singer: Are there any friends with number 22 and 23? Raise your hands—
I blankly raised the back of my hand. The same numbers were clearly written on it. A commotion came from the crowd around us.
Audience A: Wow, I'm so jealous! I want to go up there and sing, too!
Audience B: Me too, me too. I'd be happy to just stand on the side and clap along, boo-hoo-hoo!
Inviting the audience to go on stage during the intermission is this band's signature routine.
Evan and I were pushed to the very front by the surging crowd. The applause naturally led the atmosphere to a climax.
He stepped onto the stage, gently lifted my waist, and helped me stand on it firmly.
The lights swayed. Through the loud cheers, I could hear my own rapid breathing.
Suddenly, the hand that was on mine tightened slightly.
Evan: "The most important thing is to enjoy yourself," you said that just now.
His deep and smooth voice sounded in my ear, completely dissolving my nervous feelings.
So I no longer hesitated. I took the microphone and held it in my hand.
Evan: Are you ready?
You: Mm!
The black and white keys were struck. The guitar strings were quickly plucked, creating a deafening sound wave.
Evan's voice and mine intertwined. We freely let go in the music.
During the instrumental break, I secretly tickled his palm and mouthed to him.
You: Our chemistry is a perfect score.
And in the blurry scattered light, he quietly squeezed my wiggling fingers.
The drums were hit like raindrops, and the other instruments wildly strummed their strings one after another, entering the modulated chorus's climax.
The music reached its peak and then suddenly stopped. The loudest sound source in the entire live house disappeared.
The sudden silence amplified the sound of our heartbeats, as if the entire world only consisted of this one corner of the stage.
Perhaps it was the magic of the music. In that moment, a very bold idea suddenly came to my mind.
I whispered a few words into the lead singer's ear. He quickly smiled and gave me an OK sign.
I took a deep breath. With one hand, I placed it on the keyboard of the electronic piano. Intermittent single notes flowed from my fingertips.
sol, sol, la, sol, do, si...
The crowd stirred and whispered to each other, but soon, they also grew quiet.
Audience A: Huh? It's the Happy Birthday song--
I moved closer to the microphone and started humming and singing along with the gradually building beat.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Evan's eyes were filled with many subtle emotions. There was surprise, warmth, and indulgence. And finally, it was tinged with a gentle tenderness that flowed like a silent stream.
He took a few steps forward and stood beside me. He also placed his hand on the electronic piano keys.
Evan: Just leave this part to me.
Evan played a gentle accompaniment to my voice. The scattered voices from the crowd gradually gathered into a chorus.
As the last note landed, champagne, with its foam, burst from the bottle, bringing with it a wave of screams.
Amidst the deafening clamor, Evan's hot breath puffed against my ear, heard only by me.
Evan: Thank you, Y/N.
Just as I was about to speak, Evan held my hand and his gaze fell on my eyes.
The light ball had stopped spinning, but why did I feel that everywhere I looked was filled with stars?
After we stayed at the live house for a while, I was covered in streamers, confetti, and champagne foam.
Evan: If you don't change your clothes, you'll catch a cold very easily.
Evan put his jacket over my shoulders and slightly turned up the car's heater.
The taillights left a light trail in the darkness. We drove past a long street, and the buildings around us started to look familiar.
This was Evan's residence in Xizhi. It was a Victorian-style villa.
Evan: What are you thinking about that's making you so happy?
You: I just remembered that the last time I came to visit, I was also soaking wet and wearing your coat.
Evan was slightly stunned, and then he started to laugh.
We had just been pulled away from the noise, and now, being back indoors felt especially warm and cozy.
Evan: Go take a shower upstairs first. Auntie Wang will prepare some clean clothes for you.
Evan: If you get bored later, you can go to my study and stay there for a bit.
You: What about you?
Evan: I'll go wash up downstairs.
Evan stopped in his tracks, and with a smile, he gently stroked my cheek.
Evan: Or are you saying that you want me to stay here?
You: !
Strange, flirtatious images couldn't help but appear in front of my eyes. I grabbed my bag and quickly fled upstairs.
After I finished washing up, my body immediately relaxed.
Evan still hadn't appeared. I had no choice but to take the cake and go to his study to wait for him.
I was just about to grab a book to pass the time, but my gaze was drawn to the chess set on the low table.
It was an endgame, and the two sides were evenly matched.
I was so engrossed that I didn't notice someone approaching until a large shadow loomed behind me.
Evan leaned down and placed a hand on the table. His deep voice sounded next to my ear.
Evan: Thinking so intently?
You: Mm, I don't understand some parts.
I was about to say more, but as soon as I looked up and saw him, my words were swallowed before I could say them.
Evan was wearing a gray robe. A soft sheen, unique to satin, flowed from the collar.
The belt was loosely tied on the left side. A single drop of water slid over his rippling chest and disappeared into a place that invited imagination.
Evan: Do you want to continue this game of chess?
He turned his head to look at me. My gaze, which had nowhere to go, finally fell back on the chessboard.
I was playing as White, and Evan was playing as Black. The originally tense situation was starting to shift.
I kept thinking there was an opportunity, so I continuously pressured the center, only to fall into a trap.
You: I feel like no matter what I do, I'll lose...
I cupped my chin, and I had no choice but to feign a move first, praying that he would fall for it.
Evan leaned lazily against the table, reached out, picked up his queen, and gently caressed it between his fingers.
Rather than saying it was an unconscious act of fiddling while he thought, it was more like a kind of scrutiny, as if he had everything under his control.
You: Why are you thinking for so long? Black has the advantage, right?
He didn't answer directly. Instead, he let the light reflect off the chess piece, creating tiny glimmers.
Evan: You can't take any situation lightly, no matter how simple it is.
Evan: Once a piece is moved, there's no turning back. It's the same rule, no matter what world you're in.
Evan: That's the one thing I heard the most when I first started learning how to play chess.
You: But rules are rules, and we are us.
I lifted my fingers, brushed past Evan's palm, took the piece from him, and placed it on the board at random.
The spot where I placed the piece couldn't break the stalemate, and it didn't even have any logic or meaning. But what does that matter?
I raised my smiling eyes to meet his.
You: At least in my world, you'll always have room for a do-over.
After a moment of being stunned, Evan's lips curved up slightly.
Evan: Then can I be allowed a do-over right now?
You: Huh? A do-over for what?
Evan reached out and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. His voice, deliberately lowered, was a little seductive.
Evan: I originally said I was going to play chess with you...
Evan: But now, I have something more important I want to do.
Evan took my hand. His thumb pad gently caressed the back of my hand.
My heart gave an uncontrollable little flutter, and even my voice became weak.
You: We haven't eaten the cake yet...
I slightly turned my body and opened the beautifully wrapped paper box.
The cake was small, only four inches. Fresh strawberries were scattered on top of the cream.
I took out a candle and lit it. Shuffling in my slippers, I turned off the main lights in the study one by one and then returned to Evan's side.
You: Okay.
The candlelight gave his face an unreal texture, making it appear softer than usual.
Evan: Just one candle?
You: Mm-hm, because it doesn't represent your age. It represents the first birthday I'm spending with you.
You: So, next year there will be two, and the year after that, three... And there will be many, many more in the future!
The tiny, fragmented candlelight wasn't as bright as the moonlight, but it was much more gentle.
I closed my eyes before Evan did.
You: Come on, make a wish!
Even though it was Evan's birthday, I couldn't help but make a silent wish in my heart.
I hope that I can spend many birthdays and many days and nights with you.
To touch the boundaries of the past together, and to seize the unknown future together.
The moment the candle was blown out, I grabbed Evan's collar and leaned close to his ear.
You: Happy birthday, Evan.
In the unlit space, a tingly sensation landed on my cheek, collecting all the dimness.
----
Sculpture Plaza
A European-style plaza from the last century. The mottled stone bricks witness history and also witness you and me.
The toy car was a little crowded, but our smiles were boundless.
..
Pickup Motorhome
The motorhome carries the dreams of freedom of city dwellers. Travel through life, and live through travel.
Let's buy a motorhome someday. It can be small and cozy, and the world can be our home.
..
Film Photo Studio
The photo studio owner says: A photo without a person is a landscape. A photo with a person is a memory.
I love every single one. How about we just print them all out?
..
Live Performance
When you want to escape, you might as well hide in a live house first and enjoy a moment of clamor.
In the clamor of the crowd, to say "Happy Birthday" to you.
..
Lu Family's Residence
In the depths of a bustling city lies Evan's residence, which carries Evan's untold, secret moments.
With me, you'll always have room for a do-over.
----
TEXT MESSAGE 1
Evan: Have you been busy with something these past few days?
You: Hehe, that's a secret for now!
Evan: According to the rules of the game, I should cooperate with you and keep it a mystery.
Evan: But in reality, I'm still a little curious.
Evan: Can you give me a small clue first?
You: The keyword is: residential area!
Evan: A residential area? That clue has me stumped.
Evan: Is it a community event?
You: Haha, I bet you didn't expect that! It's actually a residential area's environmental design competition.
Evan: I can understand what kind of competition it is from the name. My school used to have similar environmental events too.
Evan: But why did you suddenly decide to participate?
You: This event is very meaningful. Anyone can participate, even if you're not a professional designer. You should give it a try.
Evan: I would never refuse your invitation.
Evan: It's just that I'd rather be your partner than your competitor.
TEXT MESSAGE 2
Evan: Did you try on the dress I sent you?
You: The dress? Is it in this box on my desk?
Evan: If it's a gift box tied with a red ribbon, then yes, that's it.
Evan: I originally wanted to surprise you, so I didn't tell you what was in the box.
Evan: You can open it now and see if the clothes fit.
You: The style of this dress is very vintage, and the color is very intense. I feel like it's more suitable for certain special occasions.
Evan: Your intuition is very accurate.
Evan: The theme of this dress is the Thornbird, a bird that sings with blood until its life is exhausted.
Evan: Everyone has a different interpretation of it. I'm very curious to hear your opinion.
You: It pierces its chest with a thorn and sings until it dies. It's very tragic and beautiful, and also very romantic.
Evan: "True love and all beautiful things must be exchanged for a price that is hard to imagine."
Evan: The beauty that is born from pain and sorrow is even more shocking.
Evan: I think that in your eyes, as a designer, this story should have a more profound meaning.
-
TIMELINE POST 1
Evan: It seems that for a long journey, a more reliable method should be chosen.
You: The bike actually got a flat tire. That's so unlucky!
Evan's Response: Although it was an accident, we were also very lucky. We got to see scenery that you can only see on foot.
TIMELINE POST 2
Evan: It's a very lucky thing to still have the right to a do-over after making a move.
You: Teacher Evan, your chess skills are so good. Teach me~
Evan's Response: It would be my honor.
TIMELINE POST 3
Evan: I've come to a conclusion: Chemistry is not about how long it takes to adjust. It's about whether you're in sync from the start.
You: Then would our stage performance count as "hitting it off instantly"?
Evan's Response: For me, it could even be considered a surprise.
TIMELINE POST 4
Evan: I'm a student again. I learned about leading lines composition from Teacher Y/N.
You: Student Evan, you have a real talent for photography. You get it instantly~
Evan's Response: Maybe it's because the encouragement from my guardian brought out my potential.
TIMELINE POST 5
Evan: In games with Y/N, losing seems to have become the norm.
You: No way. If you hadn't gone easy on me, I wouldn't have had a chance to win.
Evan's Response: Maybe when I see how serious you are, I can't help but let my guard down.
TIMELINE POST 6
Evan: A new driver on the road. I'll have to ask my guardian to look after me.
You: You're a new driver and you're already so good. You must be very talented!
Evan's Response: Maybe it's because my guardian's encouragement brought out my potential.
.
.
.
.
.
LN Masterlist
If you'd like to support my translations and read them DAYS before they are published on this Tumblr, consider joining my Patreon!
Alternatively, feel free to leave me a tip here or buy me a coffee through the "Leave a Tip" button on my navigation bar. Thank you for all your support!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
synopsis: when caleb brings you home to his tribe, the primal desire to claim becomes something neither of you can escape.
tags: nsfw, explicit sexual content, ice planet barbarians-inspired AU, human/monster romance, fated mates, jealousy, mutual obsession, hand feeding, possessive behavior, hurt/comfort, jealousy, men crying, size difference, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal sex, premature ejaculation, breeding kink, cum play, creampie, happy ending
wc: 12.5k — part 3/3 (22.4k total) | ao3
a/n: oh to be loved by himbo barbarian caleb!! if u made it this far—hiii, fellow freak ;) ily ty so so much for reading!!!
part one | part two
part three — forever
Caleb is already moving around the cave at dawn, gathering weapons and supplies with singular focus. There’s a tension in his shoulders you haven’t seen before—anticipation mixed with something darker.
Today. He’s hunting the creature today.
“Savi,” he says when he notices you’re awake. He comes to kneel beside you, cupping your face in both hands. “Come with Caleb. Must come.”
The thought of leaving the cave—it’s safety, it’s warmth, it’s familiarity—sends a chill down your spine.
“What? No, I’ll stay here—”
“Lev.” His expression is firm. “Savi must come. Khui must be…fresh. Quick.” He makes a motion like inserting something into his neck, then points at you. “Savi there. Close. Important.”
Your stomach drops. He needs you there when he kills it. To immediately put that thing inside you while it’s still…alive? Fresh?
“Caleb, I can’t just—leave.” You shake your head violently. “I don’t have any clothes. You burned them, remember?”
He blinks, then his expression shifts to something almost smug. “Caleb make savi clothes. Wait—Caleb show.”
He moves to a corner of the cave where you haven’t paid much attention and pulls out several items. When he brings them over, you realize they’re garments—carefully crafted from soft leather.
“Caleb work every night,” he says, almost shy. “While savi sleep. Want make good clothes. Warm clothes. Soft clothes for savi.”
He hands you the first piece—pants, you realize. Soft leather with careful stitching, sized for your smaller frame. They’re actually well-made, the seams even and strong.
“This too.” He presents to you a tunic-style top, also leather, with long sleeves and a tie at the neck. It’s simple but functional—and, honestly, kind of stylish.
You take them, surprised by the care that went into making them. “Caleb, these are—wow. Thank you.”
“More.” He hands you something else, and you stare.
It’s—underwear.
Soft, supple leather shaped unmistakably like panties. And at the front, he’s attached a small decorative bow made from a thin strip of braided leather.
“No.” Your face burns. “No, you didn’t.”
“Savi had before.” He points at the bow. His expression is completely earnest. “Is right? Caleb make correct?”
You don’t know whether to laugh or die of embarrassment. He recreated your underwear from memory. With a bow. Because that’s what they had before.
“It’s…yes,” you confirm with a smile. “You made them correctly.”
His whole face brightens with pride. “Good. Caleb want savi to have good clothes. Pretty clothes. Like savi had.”
Through your mortification, something in your chest warms. He spent his nights—while you slept—carefully crafting clothing for you. Trying to recreate what you’d had. Including the completely impractical decorative bow.
“Help savi put on?” he offers.
“I can dress myself—”
“Please?” He asks, eyes hopeful. “Caleb make for savi. Want see if fit right. Want make sure comfortable.”
You suspect he just wants an excuse to touch you, but the genuine joy in his expression makes you relent. “Fine. You can help.”
His whole face brightens.
He picks up the leather underwear first—the ones with the little bow—and kneels in front of you. "Step," he says softly.
You grip his shoulder for balance as he guides your feet through the leg holes, one at a time. His hands are careful as he slides the leather up your legs, his fingers skimming your calves, your thighs. When he reaches your hips, he adjusts the fit with gentle tugs, making sure it sits right.
"Good?" he asks, looking up at you. Kneeling like that, attentive and waiting, he looks almost obedient. The sight sends a small, illicit spark through you that you like more than you should.
"Yes. It fits."
He runs his thumbs along the waistband, checking it, and his gaze drops to the little bow at the front. Something possessive flashes in his eyes. "Pretty," he murmurs. "Like before. Caleb remember."
You shift, suddenly too aware of his hand placement, of the smooth claws grazing the sensitive skin underneath the fabric. You clear your throat, forcing your voice steady. "The pants."
He picks them up and holds them open. You step into them, and again his hands guide the leather up your legs. This time he's even more careful, his palms smoothing over your thighs, your hips, making sure nothing bunches or pinches.
When he fastens them at your waist, his fingers brush against your stomach, and you feel his khui pulse harder in response.
"Turn," he says quietly.
You turn, and his hands adjust the fit in the back, tugging the leather into place. Then his palms slide around to your stomach, checking the front again, and he pulls you back slightly against him.
"Perfect," he breathes. "Fit perfect."
You can feel the heat of him, the way his breathing has changed. The way his hands don't quite want to let go.
"The top," you remind him.
He releases you reluctantly and retrieves the tunic. "Arms up."
You raise your arms, and he slides the leather over your head, carefully guiding your arms through the sleeves. His hands smooth down the fabric, adjusting it over your shoulders, your chest, your waist. Every touch is deliberate, thorough, and far longer than necessary.
When he ties the laces at your throat, his fingers trail down your neck. He's standing so close you can feel his breath, can see the darkness in his eyes.
"Good?" you whisper.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Savi look perfect. Caleb clothes look good on savi.”
“They fit perfectly,” you agree, then hesitate. “Caleb, how did you know my size?”
“Caleb…look. When savi sleep. To make sure make right fit. Caleb touch—little bit.” He says it like a confession. “Just to make clothes fit.”
The admission sends heat through your core. You imagine him in the darkness, his hands carefully measuring your body while you slept. Learning every curve, every dimension, every inch. Committing it all to memory.
His breathing has changed, and you can tell he's thinking about it, too, evident in the hard length pressing against you through the minimal coverings that sit low on his hips.
He notices you've noticed, and starts to step back. "Sorry. Caleb not mean—just thinking about—about touching savi and—"
But you don't let him retreat. Your hands find his arms, keeping him near.
"It's okay," you say softly, looking up at him. "The clothes are perfect. You did such a good job."
His eyes darken, searching your face. "Caleb good?"
Instead of answering, you cup his face in both hands and pull him down for a kiss.
He makes a surprised sound against your mouth, but he catches on quickly. His lips move with yours, confident now from practice, and his hands come to your waist, holding you steady. You pour everything into it—gratitude for the clothes, for his patience, for the way he cares for you without demanding anything in return.
"Thank you," you whisper once the two of you finally pull apart. "Really. For all of this. The clothes are beautiful."
He doesn't speak. Just nuzzles into your palm, his eyes closing briefly. Then he turns his head and presses a kiss to the center of your hand, the gesture so tender it makes your heart ache.
"Anything for savi," he finally murmurs. "Everything for savi."
His smile is radiant. Then he reaches back into his corner and pulls out one more thing—a heavy fur cloak, lined with the softest hide you’ve seen yet, with a matching hat and mittens.
“For outside. Keep savi warm.” He wraps you up in everything like you’re a present, fastening the cloak securely at your throat. “There. Now savi ready.”
You touch the cloak, stunned by how soft it is, how warm. “Caleb, this must have taken—”
“Many nights. Many hours," he admits. He holds both of your hands in his. “But worth it. Savi worth everything. Worth every moment Caleb work to make savi comfortable. Safe. Warm.”
Your throat tightens. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say savi will stay close to Caleb today. Stay safe. Let Caleb protect while Caleb hunt.” He gives your hands a gentle squeeze. “Say savi trust Caleb.”
“I trust you.”
He frowns. “Caleb.”
“I trust you, Caleb,” you whisper with a smile, and realize you mean it.
His eyes close briefly, and through the resonance you feel his overwhelming relief and joy. “Good. Then we go. Caleb get khui for savi. Make savi able to survive here. Make savi—” He hesitates. “Make savi able to stay with Caleb forever.”
“Forever?”
“Yes.” He says it with complete certainty. “Caleb not let savi go. Not let savi leave. Not let anything happen to savi. Forever.”
You’re quiet for a moment. Forever is a long time. But the prospect doesn’t scare you as much as it did just a few days ago.
“What does savi mean?” You ask, desperate to change the subject. “You keep calling me that.”
“Savi.” He touches your face gently. “Means ‘reason to be strong.’ The one who make male want to be better. Want to fight harder. Want to—” He struggles for words, wanting to convey the meaning as accurately as possible. “Want to become worthy.”
“Worthy?”
“Yes. Savi is the one male look at and think—must protect. Must provide for. Must be stronger, better, fiercer.” His hand moves to rest over his heart. “Is name Caleb choose for you. Is…Caleb’s word. For savi only.”
Your breath catches. You can’t help but reach for his hand, holding it between both of yours as he continues explaining.
“Before savi, Caleb just exist. Just hunt, just live. But now—” His eyes are intense, locked onto yours with a pull that’s magnetic, impossible to escape. “Now Caleb have reason. Have purpose. Must be strong enough to keep savi safe. Must be good enough to deserve savi. Must be everything savi need.”
The words land heavy in your chest.
You see it so clearly—the way he orients around you, the way his attention never strays far, how every decision bends toward your safety. How he would put himself in harm’s way without a second thought if it meant you stayed untouched. And instead of comfort, guilt coils tight in your stomach.
"You shouldn't have to do all that," you say, frustration bleeding into your voice. "Work so hard just to keep me alive. Watch over me when you could be doing other things. I'm—I'm useless here. Just a burden."
“No!” He says it instantly, fiercely, squeezing your hands with conviction. “Savi not weak. Savi is strong. Brave. Survive crash. Survive trap. Survive everything.” He cups your face in both hands. “Savi is strong one. But savi make Caleb want to be stronger. Make Caleb want to be best male. Best mate. Best protector. Understand?”
You look up at him—this alien male who hunts for you, makes clothes for you, burns your things to keep you safe. Who looks at you like you hung the stars and the moon and the sun. Who chose a name for you that means reason to be strong.
You nod, throat tight. “I think so.”
“Savi is Caleb’s reason to become more than Caleb was before. This why is perfect name. This why Caleb choose it.” He presses his forehead to yours. “You make Caleb want be worthy. Want be enough. Want be everything savi need. Forever.”
The word doesn't sound as terrifying as it did before. Not when it's spoken like a promise instead of a threat. Not when you're starting to understand that maybe—maybe you don't want to imagine a forever without him either.
When did that happen? When did this possessive, intense, slightly unhinged alien become someone you want? Someone whose touch you crave? Someone whose devotion doesn't feel suffocating but... safe?
You think of the kisses. Of how natural it felt to pull him close instead of pushing him away. Of how your body responds to his presence now—not with fear, but with something warmer. Something that feels dangerously close to—
No. Not yet. Too soon to name it. But it's there, growing and insistent and undeniable.
Forever could be worse, you decide. So much worse.
“Okay,” you say softly. “Let’s go get this khui thing.”
His smile could light up the entire cave.
He helps you into boots he’s also made—fur-lined and soft—then secures his hunting weapons. Before you leave, he pulls you close for one last kiss.
“Savi stay close. Very close. Caleb not let anything hurt savi. Understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good.” He presses his forehead to yours briefly before kissing each of your cheeks. “Caleb protect savi. Always protect savi.”
He crouches down, gesturing for you to climb onto his back.
“Caleb carry. Savi safe.”
You climb onto his back, and his hands secure your thighs against his sides. The position is intimate, your body pressed along the length of his spine, but it’s also surprisingly stable.
“Hold tight,” he instructs, and then you're off.
—
He runs across the frozen landscape with impossible speed and grace, never stumbling, never slipping on ice. You cling to him, face buried against his shoulder, feeling the powerful flex of his muscles with each stride.
The journey takes hours. The landscape becomes increasingly desolate—jagged ice formations, deep crevasses, areas where the thermal vents have created strange, twisted patterns in the frozen ground.
Finally, he slows.
He finds a sheltered outcropping of ice and carefully sets you down. “Savi stay here,” he says firmly, pointing at the ground. “Not move. Understand? Lev move.”
“Where are you—”
“Caleb hunt.” He touches your face, his expression intense. “Stay. Safe here. Caleb return soon.”
Then he’s gone, disappearing into the maze of ice with his bone blade drawn.
You huddle in the furs, waiting. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the whistle of wind through the ice formations.
Then you hear it.
A roar that shakes the ground beneath you. The sound of something massive and angry. The clash of combat—Caleb’s shouts, the creature’s screams, two beasts warring for dominance in the snow.
You should stay put. He told you to stay. But what if he needs help? What if—
Your thoughts are interrupted by another roar, closer this time. The sound of something large moving fast.
Too fast.
You see it before you can react—a massive creature, all teeth and claws and armored hide, barreling around the ice formation. It’s wounded, bleeding from multiple gashes, and its eyes lock on you.
Easy prey.
You scramble backward, but your foot catches on the fur. You fall hard against the ice outcropping, and there’s a sickening crack.
Pain explodes through your side. Your ribs. Something’s broken.
The creature charges.
You can’t breathe, can’t move, can only watch death approach—
Until Caleb materializes from nowhere.
He places himself between you and the creature, and the sound he makes is nothing short of unbridled, feral rage. The fight is brutal and fast. The creature is huge and powerful, but Caleb is fueled by something beyond strength. The need to protect. To save his mate.
To save you.
He drives his blade into the creature’s throat, dodging its death throes, and when it finally collapses, he’s already turning to you.
“Savi!” He drops beside you, hands hovering over your body. “Hurt. Where hurt?”
“My—ah—my side,” you gasp. Even breathing is agony. “I fell—I think my ribs—”
His face goes pale. His hands probe your side gently, and when you cry out, his expression twists with anguish.
“Broken,” he mutters. Then he looks at the dead creature, at you, and something shifts in his eyes. A decision is made. “Khui heal. Must give khui now.”
Your heart lurches. You knew this was coming—wanted it, even, when you were safe in the cave and it was all abstract. But now, faced with the reality of having something alien implanted in your body—
“No—wait—I’m not ready—”
He’s already moving to the creature, his blade cutting into its throat without second thought. He reaches inside and pulls out something that makes your stomach turn—a small, slug-like thing that pulses with bioluminescent light.
The khui.
It's alive. Writhing slightly in his palm, glowing from within.
That's going to go inside you.
“Please, savi,” he says, returning to you with the thing cradled in his palm. “You die without. Khui heal. Make strong.” His voice cracks. “Caleb not lose savi. Not now. Not ever.”
"I know, I just—" Panic is rising in your throat. "Give me a minute, please—"
“You die,” he repeats, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Broken inside. Already bleeding. Caleb feel it.” His hand hovers over your side. “Please. Trust Caleb.”
You look at his face—the desperation there, the love, the absolute terror of losing you. You do trust him. But that doesn't make this less terrifying.
"Will it hurt?" you whisper.
"Yes." He doesn't lie to you. "But fast. Then khui heal. Make better. Make savi survive."
Your vision is starting to blur at the edges. The pain in your side is getting worse, spreading. Maybe you really are dying.
Maybe you don't have a choice.
"Okay," you breathe. "Okay, but—Caleb—"
"Yes?" He leans closer, desperate.
“Don't let go of me,” you plead. “While you do it. Please don't let go.”
His expression crumbles with relief and something like love. "Never let go. Never. Caleb hold savi. Keep safe. Always."
He positions the khui near your throat. Then he tilts your head back, and before you can scream, he makes a thin slice against the side of your neck, pressing the khui firmly inside the wound.
“Shh, shh,” he soothes, even as you thrash weakly. “I know. I know, savi. Almost done. Almost…”
The sensation is violating and wrong—something foreign burrowing into your skin, into your flesh. You fight him, trying to push away, but he holds you steady with one arm while his other hand keeps the khui in place.
“Forgive Caleb.”
You close your eyes and hold onto him.
And trust.
—
Caleb runs.
His savi is cradled against his chest, wrapped in every fur he owns. The khui is inside her now—he felt the moment it took hold, the instant they resonated—but she hasn't woken.
Two days. Two days of her sleeping while the khui does its work, healing her broken ribs, integrating with her body, preparing her for the bond.
Two days of him hunting, providing, watching over her with increasing desperation.
She needs the tribe's healer. Needs to be somewhere safer than a temporary hunting cave. Needs to be home.
Needs to be where Caleb can properly care for her.
The journey back is grueling, but he doesn't slow. His savi is precious cargo—the most precious thing he's ever carried. His tail wraps partially around her for extra security, and his khui hums with contentment at having her close.
Mine. Protected. Carrying savi home.
But as the tribe's caves come into view, anxiety creeps in. Caleb was never supposed to be gone from the tribe for this long. What began as a routine hunt has stretched into something else entirely—into resonance and purpose and a warmth he never thought he’d be allowed to have.
He's been gone for several weeks. Longer than he's ever been away. What will they think when he returns with this strange creature? This alien female who isn't of their people?
What if they reject her? Refuse to accept her as his mate?
His arms tighten protectively. Let them try. Caleb will fight anyone who threatens savi. Will protect. Will keep.
He enters the main cave system, and immediately he knows something has changed.
The cave is louder, with more activity than usual. And there are scents he doesn't recognize—strange, alien scents like his savi's, but different. Varied. He rounds the corner into the main gathering space and stops short.
There are others. Other creatures like his savi—small, soft, with five fingers and no tail or horns. At least a dozen of them, maybe more. And several are clearly mated, standing close to males from his tribe, their khui resonating audibly.
What—how—
Then one of the females spots him. Her dark hair is pulled back, and her eyes go wide as they lock on the bundle in his arms.
"Oh my god," she breathes. "Is that—" She starts running toward him. "Let me see her—please—"
Instinct takes over.
Caleb snarls, turning his body to shield his savi from the approaching female. His free hand drops to the blade at his hip, and the sound tearing from his chest is pure threat.
No. Mine. Stay back.
"Caleb, stop!" A male voice cuts through his fury—Gideon, stepping between Caleb and the female. His closest friend positions himself protectively in front of the dark-haired female, and Caleb can sense the resonance between them. Gideon's hand comes to rest on her shoulder, firm and possessive.
Gideon has a mate.
"Brother, she is not a threat," Gideon says firmly, speaking in his native tongue. "This is Tara. My mate. And she is your savi's friend. From the same ship."
The words process slowly. Friend. Not threat. But his khui isn't convinced—everyone is a threat when it comes to his vulnerable, unconscious savi.
Tara is trying to peer around Gideon, visibly distraught. "Please, I just need to see if she's okay. We thought—when the ship crashed—we thought she was dead—"
"Back," Caleb growls, the word coming out harsh. "No one touches. No one comes close."
"Caleb." Gideon's voice drops to that particular tone of reason. "The females are friends. They have been here for weeks. Some have already mated with our people. Tara just wants to know that her friend survived." He squeezes Tara's shoulder. "She has been grieving. Let her see."
Caleb's arms tighten around his bundle. Every instinct screams to run, to hide his savi away where no one can reach her. But Gideon is right—he can see it in the female Tara's eyes. Grief. Hope. Fear.
"She can look," Caleb forces out. "From there. Do not come closer."
He carefully adjusts the furs, revealing his savi's peaceful face. Tara's sob of relief echoes through the cave.
"She needs the healer," Caleb interrupts, already backing away. "Now."
He doesn't wait for a response, turning toward the healer's caves with his precious burden.
"I'll find you later!" Tara calls after him. "When she wakes—please—tell her I'm here!"
Caleb doesn't acknowledge it, already moving through the passages with single-minded purpose.
—
Zayne's cave is organized and clean, lined with shelves of herbs and supplies. The healer himself is tending to someone in the corner—another of the strange females—but he looks up when Caleb enters.
And Caleb's possessive instincts ratchet up another notch.
Zayne is...attractive. Even Caleb can acknowledge that. Tall and lean, with striking ice-green eyes and black horns that curve back elegantly. He moves with a grace that speaks of competence and control.
Unmated. Caleb knows this immediately—there's no resonance around him, no scent of a mate.
Which means his savi could resonate for Zayne.
The thought makes Caleb want to bare his teeth.
"Caleb," Zayne says, his voice calm and professional. "I heard you had returned. Is this your mate?"
"Yes." The word comes out clipped. "She has khui now. Two days. But she has not woken. I need you to check her. Make sure she will survive."
Zayne's expression softens slightly. "Lay her down. Let me examine her."
Caleb moves to the pile of furs Zayne indicates, but when he tries to lay her down, his arms won't cooperate. Won't release her.
"Caleb," Zayne says patiently. "I need to examine her properly. You have to let go."
"No."
"She might be in danger. The khui integration does not always go smoothly with these human females. I need to assess—"
"Then assess," Caleb snaps. "But I will hold her."
Zayne studies him for a long moment, then nods. "Fine. Unwrap her. I need to see her body."
Jealousy flares hot and immediate. The thought of Zayne—attractive, unmated Zayne—seeing his savi's bare skin—
"Have you found your mate yet?" Caleb asks abruptly.
Zayne blinks at the sudden question. "No. I have not resonated for anyone. Why?"
"Just...wondering." Caleb's arms tighten fractionally around his savi. "There are many new females in the tribe. Thought maybe..."
"I have examined all of them," Zayne says with professional detachment. "No resonance with any. Now, your mate. Please."
The answer should relieve Caleb. It doesn't. Just because Zayne hasn't resonated yet doesn't mean he won't. Doesn't mean her khui won't sing for him the moment she wakes up.
Caleb needs to claim her. Soon. Before anyone else gets ideas.
He carefully unwraps the furs, revealing her still form. She's dressed in a simple wrap he fashioned for her, at least, covering the most intimate parts.
Zayne moves closer, and Caleb has to actively fight the urge to snarl.
The healer's hands are efficient and quick. He checks her pulse, her breathing, presses gently on her ribs where they'd been broken. Then his hand moves to her neck, feeling where the khui entered.
Each touch makes Caleb's jaw clench harder.
"Good," Zayne murmurs. "The entry point is healing well. No infection. Her temperature is slightly elevated, but that is normal for integration." He looks at Caleb. "How long since she received the khui?"
"Two days."
"And she has not woken at all?"
“No. She woke briefly after. Was in pain,” he tells Zayne. His chest aches at the memory of you, so small and frail and hurting. The way you tried to be brave anyway. “Then…she only sleeps."
Zayne nods thoughtfully. "The khui is working on her injuries—you said her ribs were broken?" At Caleb's nod, he continues. "That explains the extended sleep. Her body is using all its energy for healing. The khui has to repair significant damage before she can wake safely." He meets Caleb's eyes. "She will be fine. But it might take a few more days."
"She will live." Relief floods through Caleb so intensely his knees weaken. "She will live."
"Yes. Though she will need careful tending. Fluids, warmth, monitoring." Zayne's expression turns knowing. "I assume you are not going to let anyone else provide that care?"
"Only me."
"I thought as much." Zayne steps back, and Caleb immediately feels better with distance between the healer and his mate. "Take her to your cave. Keep her warm. If her fever spikes or she shows signs of distress, bring her back immediately. But otherwise...let the khui work."
Caleb is already rewrapping her, already standing. "Thank you."
"Caleb." Zayne's voice stops him at the entrance. "Congratulations. On your mate."
Something warm unravels in Caleb's chest. My mate. Mine.
"Thank you," he says again, and this time there's joy in it.
—
His cave is exactly as he left it—private, warm, and stocked with supplies. He lays his savi in the center of his sleeping furs, the softest and warmest ones, and finally grants himself a second to breathe.
She is here. In his home. Safe.
He strips away the temporary wrap, needing to check her himself. The bruising on her ribs is already fading, he notes with relief. The khui is working fast. Her skin is warm but not feverish, her breathing deep and even.
Perfect. She is perfect.
He can't resist touching her—his hands map her body gently, reverently. Not with lust now, at least not entirely. Now, he touches her with pure adoration.
"My savi," he murmurs, trailing his fingers along her arm. "Caleb's mate. So beautiful. So...nice."
He leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. Then her cheek. Her nose. Her lips—those soft lips that taught him what kissing was, that said words he didn't understand at first.
Like "love."
She'd said it in her sleep once, murmuring something about missing love, wanting love. He hadn't understood the word then—his people have no equivalent. But he'd felt something stir in his chest at the sound of it.
Now he understands.
Love is this. This overwhelming, all-consuming devotion. This need to protect and provide and cherish.
"Caleb loves you," he whispers against her lips, the words feeling right. Perfect. "Loves you so much. From first moment."
Another kiss, this one to her shoulder. Then her collarbone. He trails kisses down her body, worshipping every inch.
"Love your soft skin," he murmurs against her chest. "Love how you feel in Caleb's arms." He brushes a kiss to her stomach. "Love your brave heart. How you fought Caleb even when scared."
His hand cups her face tenderly.
"Love how you teach Caleb to cook meat. To kiss. To be patient." He smiles at the memories. "Love how you cry when overwhelmed. Shows you feel deeply. Shows you care."
He kisses her ribs, where they'd been broken. Where she'd been hurt trying to protect herself. They’re healing nicely now, the bruises fading away.
“Love your strength. Your stubbornness.” He lets out a soft laugh. “You fought Caleb so hard. Refused to give up. Even when Caleb burned your clothes.” He nuzzles against her stomach apologetically. "Caleb sorry about this. But needed you safe. Needed you to depend on Caleb."
His tail curls around her ankle possessively.
"Love your voice. Your laugh. The one you did when Caleb learned kissing wrong at first." He trails kisses across her hip. "Love how you taste. How you smell. How you fit perfectly in Caleb's arms."
He moves back up her body, pressing his forehead to hers.
"Love how you challenge Caleb. Make Caleb think. Make Caleb better." His thumb ghosts over her cheek, like he can’t believe she’s real. "Love that you are so clever. Resourceful. Showed Caleb new ways to do things."
He presses a kiss to each closed eyelid.
"Love that you care about your friends. That female Tara—she loves you too. Caleb sees it," he admits into the quiet. Even if it makes him jealous. "Love that you have people who want you safe. Means you are precious. Special."
His hand splays over her heart, feeling the khui pulse there.
"Love that you are mine now. That khui chose Caleb for you. That Caleb gets to keep you. Care for you. Build life with you."
He settles beside her, pulling her into his arms. One hand strokes her hair in slow, soothing motions.
"Going to make you so happy," he promises. "When you wake, Caleb show you. Show you the tribe. Other humans. Show you how good life can be here."
His lips press to her temple.
"Will hunt the best meat for you. Learn to cook it so nice. Make you warmest furs. Build you anything you want." His voice drops to a whisper. "Will give you family. Pups with your clever mind and pretty hair and Caleb's strength and horns. Perfect. Beautiful. Ours."
The khui hums contentedly in his chest, resonating with the answering pulse in hers. Not complete yet—not until she wakes and they truly bond—but close. So close.
"Love you," he murmurs again, the words coming easier each time. "Caleb loves his savi. His mate. His everything."
He can still see Zayne's face in his mind. Still feel that spike of jealousy. Still worries that she might resonate for another, that another male might try to claim her.
"Need to bond with you properly," he whispers. "When you wake. Need to make you completely Caleb's. So everyone knows. So no one tries to take you."
His arms tighten protectively.
"Zayne is too handsome. Too unmarked. Caleb worried." The admission feels vulnerable. "But you are Caleb's savi. Caleb's khui sang first. Caleb found you first. Caleb gets to keep you."
He presses another kiss to her hair.
"Please wake soon," he breathes. "Caleb needs to see your eyes. Hear your voice. Needs to know you're really okay. Really here. Really Caleb’s."
The khui pulses reassuringly, but it's not enough.
He needs her awake. Needs her looking at him with those eyes. Needs her saying his name.
Needs her to love him back.
"Caleb will wait," he promises. "Will be patient. Will be here when you wake. Always here. Always yours."
He pulls her closer, breathing in her scent, feeling her heartbeat against his chest.
"Love you," he whispers one more time. "Love everything about you. Your body, your spirit, your mind, your heart. All of you. Forever."
And with his mate safe in his arms, her khui pulsing steadily with life, Caleb finally allows himself to sleep. Secure in the knowledge that she's here. She's safe. She's his.
His last thought before sleep claims him:
Caleb loves savi. And he will spend the rest of his life proving it.
—
You wake slowly, awareness returning in layers.
Warmth. There’s so much warmth wrapped around you, solid and secure. The rhythmic thrum of a heartbeat beneath your ear. The heady scent of something clean and masculine. And a sensation in your chest—a humming, pulsing presence that wasn’t there before.
Your eyes flutter open.
You’re in a cave, larger and more organized than the hunting shelter. Supplies line the walls, weapons hang from carved hooks, furs are piled everywhere. Soft blue light from bioluminescent crystals bathes everything in gentle illumination.
And you’re wrapped in arms that could crush you but hold you like you’re made of glass.
“Caleb?” Your voice comes out hoarse, unused.
The body beneath you goes rigid. Then there’s movement, carefully controlled, and suddenly you’re looking up into violet eyes that are blazing with relief and joy and something so intense it steals your breath.
“Savi.” His voice breaks on the word. “Savi awake. Finally awake.”
His hands cup your face, fingers firm at your jaw like he’s anchoring you to consciousness. Then he’s kissing you—desperate, fervent kisses all over your face, your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips.
“Thought—worried—so long asleep—” The words tumble out between kisses, his native language mixed with broken English. You can’t translate them exactly, but the meaning comes through clearer than it used to—worry, fear, how long he waited. “Savi okay? Hurt anywhere? Feel pain?”
“I’m—” You try to sit up, and he immediately helps, supporting your weight. “I’m okay, I think. What happened? The last thing I remember—”
The beast. Your ribs breaking. Him pulling out that slug-like thing and pressing it into your neck—
Your hand flies to the side of your throat, feeling for…something. There’s a small mark there, already healed over, but beneath it you can feel that strange pulsing.
The khui.
It’s inside you.
“Oh, god.” Your breathing picks up. “It’s really—you really—”
“Savi breathe. Please breathe.” Caleb’s hands are on your shoulders, steadying you. “Khui is good. Saved savi. Healed broken ribs. Made savi strong.” His forehead presses to yours. “Made savi survive.”
You take a shaky breath, then another. He’s right—your ribs don’t hurt at all. Actually, you feel better than you have in days. Weeks, maybe. Strong. Energized. Warm from the inside out.
And that humming in your chest…
You press your hand over your heart, and Caleb’s hand immediately covers yours.
“Feel it?” he asks softly. “The khui? The resonance?”
“I feel…something.” It’s like a second heartbeat, pulsing in rhythm with your actual heart. And when you focus on it, you can feel…him. Caleb. His presence, somehow connected to yours.
“We resonate,” he says, and there’s such wonder in his voice. “Caleb’s khui and savi’s khui. Singing together. Like supposed to.” His thumb strokes over your knuckles. “Means we are meant to be. Meant to bond. Meant to be mates.”
The word ‘mates’ sends a flutter through you. Through the strange connection, you feel his reaction to your reaction—satisfaction, possessive pleasure, hope.
“I can feel you,” you whisper. “Not just physically. I can feel your…emotions?”
“Yes. Is the bond. Not complete yet, but beginning.” His hand slides to cup your face. “When fully mate, will be stronger. Will feel everything. Know everything about each other.”
Your heart races. Fully mate. The words send heat through you—anticipation mixed with nervousness. You know what he means. What completing the bond will require.
You've kissed him. Felt his body respond to yours. But that—that's different. This is more. Everything.
But underneath the nervousness is something else. Something that quickens your pulse for entirely different reasons. The memory of his mouth on yours. His hands on your body when he dressed you. The way he looks at you like you're everything he's ever wanted.
You want it. Want him. Want to know what it feels like to be completely his. But he's so big. So different from you. Will it even work? Will he—how will you—
“Later,” he says quickly, reading your sudden nervousness. “When savi ready. No rush. Caleb can wait.”
But you see it in his eyes—the hunger, barely contained. The way his khui is thrumming harder now, responding to your proximity, to the partial bond forming between the two of you.
He wants you. Desperately. Completely. And he's waiting. For you. Will keep waiting until you're ready.
The realization makes something in your chest ache with tenderness.
You look around the cave again, taking in the details. “Where are we? This isn’t the same cave as before.”
“Caleb’s home. The tribe.” His expression turns cautious. “Brought savi here. To healer. To safety. Is…is okay? Savi not angry?”
“I—” You’re not sure what you are. Overwhelmed, definitely. Confused. But also… “You said there’s a healer? And a tribe?”
“Yes. Many people. And—” He pauses. “Other humans. From savi’s ship here. Safe. Some have mates now. Have khui.”
Your heart leaps. “Others survived? Who? How many?”
“Caleb did not count. Too much worry about savi.” He brushes a strand of hair tenderly behind your ear. “Your friend—Tara? Is here. Has mate. Was very worried about savi. Want to see you.”
Tara. Tara’s alive.
Relief crashes through you so intensely that tears spring to your eyes. Through the bond, you feel Caleb’s immediate concern.
“Savi sad?”
“No, I’m—” You wipe at your eyes. “I’m happy. She’s my best friend. I thought she was dead. I thought everyone was dead.”
Understanding softens his expression. “Want to see her? Caleb can bring here. Or take savi to her—”
“Not yet.” You’re still too raw, too overwhelmed. “Later. I just…I need a minute to process all this.”
“Okay. Whatever savi needs.” He shifts, pulling you more securely into his lap. “Hungry? Thirsty? Caleb has food. Water. Whatever savi wants.”
As if on cue, your stomach growls. Loudly.
Caleb’s face lights up with purpose. “Savi hungry! Caleb feed savi. Wait here.”
He deposits you carefully in the nest of furs and moves to the corner where supplies are stored. You watch him work—selecting pieces of dried meat, some kind of fruit, a waterskin. His movements are efficient but excited, his tail swishing with barely contained energy.
Through the bond, you feel his emotions clearly now: joy that you’re awake, pride in providing for you, and underneath it all, a deep, unwavering devotion that makes your chest tight.
He returns with the food and settles beside you. When he brings the first piece of meat to your lips, you hesitate for just a moment.
Then you open your mouth.
His entire expression transforms. Surprise flashes across his face, followed by such profound joy that it takes your breath away. Through the bond, you feel his elation, sharp and overwhelming.
"Savi," he breathes, like a prayer.
He feeds you slowly, reverently, his focus absolute. Each piece is offered with care, and through the bond you feel his contentment building with every bite you accept. This matters to him—not just the nutrition, but the act itself. The trust. The allowing.
You've always insisted on doing things yourself. Always pulled away from this kind of care.
But now you let him. You accept what he offers. You trust him to provide.
And the way he looks at you—like you've given him the world—makes your chest tight.
"Good savi," he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip to catch a drop of juice. "Eat more. Get strong."
You take the next piece from his fingers, and his khui purrs so loudly you can hear it.
Through the bond, you feel what this means to him. How deeply it satisfies something primal in him to care for you this way. To have you accept it willingly.
To have you trust him enough to let go of control.
"Caleb happy," he says softly, almost awed. "Savi let Caleb take care. Let Caleb provide. Is—is good. So good."
And watching his face, feeling his joy through the bond—you realize it's good for you, too.
When you’re full, he brings the waterskin to your lips, supporting your head while you drink. His hand strokes your hair, gentle and soothing.
“Better?” he asks when you’ve finished.
“Better.” And it’s true. You feel more grounded now, more present. More…accepting of this bizarre, impossible situation.
You have a khui inside you. A parasite that’s bonded you to an alien. It should be terrifying. But through the bond, all you feel from him is warmth. Safety. Love—
Wait.
You focus on that feeling, that emotion pouring from him. It’s so strong, so all-encompassing, that it takes your breath away.
“Caleb?” Your voice is small. “What is this feeling? Coming from you through the bond?”
He goes very still. Then, carefully, he cups your face in both hands.
“Is love,” he says simply. His thumbs stroke your cheeks. “Caleb loves savi. Loves everything about you. Your body, your spirit, your mind. Your strength. Your stubbornness. Your kindness.”
Your breath catches. “You…love me?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. No doubt. “From first moment. Caleb’s khui knew. And Caleb’s heart knew. This is the one. This is mate. This is love.”
Tears spill over, and he wipes them away tenderly. “Savi crying again. Is bad? Did Caleb say wrong thing?”
“No, I—” You let out a watery laugh. “I don’t know what I feel. This is all so much. So fast. You’re a stranger, but you’re not, because I can feel you. And you love me, but I barely know you. And there’s this thing inside me now, and I’m connected to you forever, and—”
“Breathe,” he soothes, pulling you against his chest. That rumbling purr starts, vibrating through you. “Is okay. Is overwhelming. Caleb understands. Take time. Learn Caleb. Learn tribe. Learn new life.”
His hand strokes your back in soothing circles.
“No rush. Caleb wait whole life for savi. Can wait longer for savi to…to maybe love Caleb back.” His voice is small on those last words. Vulnerable.
Through the bond, you feel it—the fear that you’ll never return his feelings. The hope that maybe, eventually, you will. The determination to earn your love, no matter how long it takes.
Your hand finds his chest, pressing over his heart where his khui pulses.
“I don’t know if what I feel is love,” you say honestly. “But I feel…something. Connection. Safety. And when you’re close, when you touch me, it feels…” You struggle for the word. “Right.”
Hope flares through the bond, so bright it’s almost blinding.
“That is enough,” he breathes. “More than enough. Will work for the rest. Will show savi every day. Will be good mate. Patient mate. Will—”
You press your finger to his lips, silencing him. “Just…be you. Be Caleb. The one who hunts for me. Who learns my language. Who burns my clothes to keep me safe.” You smile at the memory. “The one who learns to kiss like his life depends on it.”
His eyes darken with heat at the mention of kissing. “Can…can Caleb kiss savi now? Missed kissing savi so much.”
You don’t waste another second before leaning up and pressing your lips to his.
The kiss is gentle at first, exploratory. But then the bond flares, and suddenly you can feel what he’s feeling—the desperate relief, the overwhelming joy, the love pouring through him—and it amplifies every sensation.
You gasp against his mouth, and he takes advantage, deepening the kiss. His tongue moves with yours, and the texture that seemed strange before now feels perfect. Right.
“Missed this,” he murmurs between slow licks, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Missed savi. So much.”
You can sense the truth of it. How worried he was. How he stayed by your side for days, refusing to leave, talking to you even though you couldn’t hear.
Telling you all the things he loves about you.
“I heard you,” you whisper. “I think. In my sleep. Telling me things. Promising things.”
His eyes widen. “Savi heard?”
“Not all of the words, exactly. But…the feeling. The emotion behind them.” You touch his face. “I felt safe. Even unconscious. Because you were there.”
The sound he makes is almost a sob. He pulls you close, and his whole body trembles.
“Thought Caleb lost you,” he admits into your hair. “When ribs broken. When had to give khui. Thought maybe too late. Maybe savi die anyway.” His arms tighten. “Would have killed Caleb. Would have broken Caleb’s heart.”
Your tears fall, and you don’t bother fighting them. You let him hold you while you cry—for everything you’ve lost, everything you’ve gained, everything that’s changed. He rocks you gently, pressing kisses to your temple, your hair, anywhere he can reach. Murmuring soft words you don't fully understand but feel the meaning of anyway.
His resonance sends you comfort. Warmth. Safety. Love.
Always love.
But then you feel it—wetness on your neck where his face is pressed, his shoulders shaking slightly.
He's crying, too.
You pull back to look at him, and his eyes are wet, tears tracking down his cheeks. Through the bond, you feel it—his overwhelming relief that you're alive, his joy that you accepted the khui, his terror at how close he came to losing you.
"Almost lose savi," he chokes out. "Almost—Caleb so scared. So scared."
Without thinking, you cup his face and lean up, kissing away his tears. First one cheek, then the other, tasting salt on your lips.
He makes a broken sound and does the same—kissing your tears away with trembling lips, his large hands cradling your face like you might slip through his fingers.
"I'm here," you murmur against his skin. "I'm okay. You saved me."
"Caleb always save savi." He kisses your forehead, your nose, your tear-stained cheeks. "Always keep safe. Always."
You hold each other, both crying now, exchanging soft kisses between the tears. It’s comfort and reassurance and something deeper. Something that feels like a promise.
When the tears finally subside you feel exhausted, but oddly peaceful. Safe.
Home.
“What happens now?” you ask quietly.
“Now?” He considers. “Now savi rests. Gets stronger. Meets tribe. Sees friend Tara.” His hand strokes your hair. “And when ready—when savi wants—we complete bond. Become true mates. Forever.”
“And if I’m never ready?”
Pain flashes through the bond, quickly suppressed. “Then Caleb waits. Forever.” His smile is sad. “But hopes savi will be ready. Someday.”
You look at him—this alien who hunted for you, cared for you, saved your life. Who looks at you with such affection it hurts. Who loves you with an intensity that should terrify you but somehow…doesn’t.
“Maybe not forever,” you say softly. “Maybe…soon.”
Hope blazes through the bond, and his smile is like the sun.
“Soon,” he repeats, like a prayer. “Caleb like soon.”
He kisses you again, soft and sweet, full of his joy, his relief, his devotion.
And maybe, just maybe, the first stirrings of what might become love. On your side, too.
You fall asleep in his arms again, this time by choice. And when you dream, you dream of purple eyes and gentle hands and a future that might not be so terrible after all.
A future with him. With Caleb.
Your mate.
—
Three days after waking with the khui, you’re finally strong enough to explore the settlement properly.
Caleb hovers, of course. His hand never leaves the small of your back as he guides you through the main cave system, proudly introducing you to tribe members with a litany of “Esha savi” that makes several females smile knowingly.
The tribe is larger than you expected. There are dozens of individuals going about daily tasks. Hunting parties preparing to leave, females working hides, the younger ones playing in the warm spaces near thermal vents.
And then you see her.
“Tara?”
The familiar face turns, and your friend’s eyes widen with recognition and relief. She’s wrapped in furs, a bone comb holding back her dark hair, and most notably—there’s a tall, blue-skinned male standing protectively behind her.
“Oh my god,” Tara cries, rushing forward. She stops just short of hugging you, glancing at Caleb. “May I…?”
Caleb’s jaw tightens, but he nods once. The moment Tara embraces you, his hand flexes possessively on your waist.
“I thought I was the only one,” you say into her shoulder. “I thought everyone else was dead.”
“No, there are fifteen of us here. Some—some didn't make it,” she informs you, voice catching. “But we’re safe. They’ve taken care of us.”
You pull back, studying her. She looks healthy, well-fed. Content, even. “They gave you the khui too?”
“All of us. We didn’t have much choice—most of us were injured from the crash.” She glances at the male behind her with unmistakable affection. “This is Gideon. My mate.”
Gideon nods at you, then says something in their language to Caleb. Both males relax fractionally, some understanding passing between them.
“Can we talk?” Tara asks. “Privately? Just for a bit?”
Caleb makes a sound of protest, but you touch his arm. “It’s okay. I’ll stay where you can see me.”
He doesn’t look happy, but he allows Tara to lead you to a fur-covered ledge, in a quieter corner of the main cave. Caleb positions himself across the space, arms crossed, watching your every movement.
Tara keeps her voice low as she fills you in on the crash. The chaos afterward. How the tribe found the wreckage scattered across the ice and pulled survivors from the debris before the cold could finish the job. How not everyone made it—but enough did. Enough to call it a miracle. The survivors are safe with khui now, housed deeper in the caves, recovering under the tribe’s watch.
Then her gaze drifts back to Caleb. To the way his attention never leaves you. To how his body is angled, ready to pounce, even at a distance.
“So,” she says, leaning in conspiratorially. “What’s it like being claimed by Mr. Tall, Blue, and Devastatingly Handsome?”
Something hot and territorial flutters like mad beneath your ribs. Mine, it whispers. When your eyes find Caleb across the cave, his grin is already there, knowing and indulgent, like he’s been waiting for you to catch up to what he’s known all along.
That you're just as obsessed with him as he is with you.
“He’s very…” you search for the word.
“Possessive? Protective? Obsessed? Yeah, they all are. The resonance makes them a little crazy,” Tara says with a grin. “How are you handling it? The bond?”
“I’m…adjusting.” You touch your chest where the khui hums. “It’s overwhelming. Feeling him all the time, knowing he can feel me too.”
“It gets easier. And honestly?” Tara leans in conspiratorially. “It’s kind of amazing. Gideon knows exactly what I need, sometimes before I do. And the sex—”
“Tara!”
She laughs. “What? You haven’t…? Oh babe, you’re in for a treat. The resonance during doggy—”
“Spare me the details,” you interrupt, face burning. “Aren’t you at least a little…suspicious? A whole tribe of huge alien men just happening to rescue a bunch of human girls? Instead of, I don’t know, eating us? Turning us into sex slaves? Killing us for sport?”
"Oh honey, Gideon definitely wants to eat me, but not in the murder way." Tara waggles her eyebrows. "If you know what I mean."
"You're a menace," you tease, followed by a laugh so bright you can feel Caleb tense at the sudden noise. His reaction only makes you laugh harder.
God, you missed girl time.
"What? You asked!" Tara hits your shoulder playfully. "But okay, serious answer—look around. See how many males there are compared to females?"
You do look. The cave is full of males—dozens of them. But females? You can count them on one hand.
“There was some kind of plague years ago,” Tara explains. “Killed most of their females. The ones who survived can’t have children anymore—something about the disease damaging their ability to carry khui or something, I don’t fully understand it. But the tribe has been slowly dying out. No children born in over a decade.”
“So when we crashed here…” Your stomach sinks. “We saved them from extinction.”
She nods. “So really, it's less 'suspicious alien rescue' and more 'mutually beneficial survival arrangement with orgasms.'” Tara’s voice is way too casual given the circumstances. Her hand moves to her stomach. “I’ve already got a little blue bun in the oven.”
The world tilts. For a minute, you can’t believe your ears. Tara. With a baby. An alien baby.
“You’re pregnant?”
“That’s what the resonance is all about, babe. The khui makes us incredibly fertile, and the males…well, once they’ve found their special someone, biology clocks in and never really clocks out.” She grins. “Gideon is over the moon about it. And under my clothes. And behind my—”
Tara keeps rambling, but she lost you at alien fetus. You look across the cave at Caleb, who’s still watching you intently. All those times he touched your stomach. The way he’d looked at you with such hungry possession.
He knew.
He knew this whole time that the khui, the bond, was about making you pregnant. About using your body to save his dying tribe.
And he never bothered to tell you.
"Hey," Tara touches your arm. "I know that look. Don't spiral into the anger zone."
"He didn't tell me—"
"Because he probably thought you knew. I mean, what did you think 'mate' meant? Platonic life partners?" She snorts. "Also, hello, language barrier. Gideon tried to explain quantum physics to me yesterday using charades and cave drawings. It went about as well as you'd expect."
She’s trying to calm you down, but you're not amused. Not in the slightest.
"Okay, look." Tara's voice softens. "I get it. It's a lot. It’s all happening really, really fast. But they didn't deceive us—they literally don't have the vocabulary. And honestly?" She glances at Gideon with undisguised affection. "I'm happy. We're building a family together, and it's weird and wonderful and—" She looks back at you. "Your male looks at you the exact same way. Like you're his entire world. That's not deception. That's devotion."
"He burned my clothes."
"Okay, yeah, that's unhinged." Tara nods seriously. "But also kind of hot? In a caveman 'you're never leaving me' sort of way?"
First handsome, now kind of hot?
Something territorial flares in your chest. No. Not kind of hot. Not to Tara or anyone else. He's yours. Your unhinged alien who burns your clothes and refuses to let you go. Your obsessive protector who looks at you like you're his entire world.
Yours.
She tries reaching for you, but you’re already striding across the cave. Caleb straightens as you approach, clearly sensing your anger through the bond.
“Savi? What wrong?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” you demand. “About the babies? About reproduction?”
His brow furrows in confusion. “Baby…?” Then recognition dawns. “Pup. Yes. Savi make pup with Caleb—”
“And you didn’t think to tell me? That the whole point of this bond is to get me pregnant?”
He’s clearly not following all your words, catching only fragments. “Pregnant…yes. Savi have Caleb pup. Make family—”
“I didn’t agree to that!”
Other tribe members are starting to stare. Caleb’s expression shifts from confusion to something darker as he catches the gist of your anger.
“Savi not want Caleb pup?” His voice goes dangerously quiet.
“That’s not—” You stop yourself short, unsure how to answer the question. Unsure how to come to term with the fact that the answer isn’t a simple no. It isn’t even a maybe. “I—I just wanted to know! Before you decided for me!”
He says something sharp in his language to the nearest male—Tara’s mate, you realize. Gideon responds, and whatever he says makes Caleb go absolutely rigid.
“What male?” Caleb snarls.
“What?”
“What male ask savi for pup? Who touch? Who speak?” His hands grip your shoulders, and his eyes are wild. “Tell Caleb!”
“No one! I’m talking about you—”
But he’s not listening. He swings you up into his arms, and despite your protests, he’s already moving. Striding out of the main space, he carries you through winding passages toward his cave.
“Caleb! Put me down! I’m trying to talk to you!”
“Not safe,” he growls. “Males think savi available. Think can offer pup. Lev. Never.”
“No one offered—you don’t understand—”
He kicks open the entrance to his cave and sets you down and immediately, blocking the entrance with his body.
“Here,” he says firmly. “Stay here. Not leave until…” He moves toward you, backing you against the wall. His hand splays across your stomach, possessive and hot. “Until savi belly grow with Caleb pup. Until all know savi is Caleb’s.”
The declaration should make you angry. Should make you want to fight.
Instead, heat pools low in your belly at his words, at the images they conjure. Caleb, fucking into you over and over until your cunt drips with his seed. You, round and swollen with his child. His hands on your growing stomach. Everyone knowing exactly who you belong to.
It shouldn't excite you. It shouldn't.
You squeeze your thighs tighter together.
“You can’t hold me hostage until I’m pregnant!”
“Can. Will.” His other hand cups your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Savi is Caleb’s. Only Caleb’s. No other male touch. No other male give pup.” His hand on your stomach presses harder. “Caleb pup. Here. Soon.”
You jerk your head away from his grip. “This is insane—”
“Caleb not share!” The roar echoes off the cave walls. But the next words are softer, almost broken. “Savi is everything. Can’t lose. Won’t lose. Not to other male.”
You stare at him, and suddenly you understand. He thinks another male approached you. Asked to father your children. And his possessive, territorial instincts have gone into overdrive.
“Caleb,” you say slowly. “No other male asked me for babies.”
He blinks. “No?”
“No. I was angry at you for not telling me that bonding means pregnancy.”
His expression shifts through several emotions—relief, confusion, then something almost sheepish. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
He’s quiet for a moment, considering. “Savi…not want pup with Caleb?”
The vulnerability in his voice makes your chest ache. “I didn’t say that.”
“But angry. Because pup?”
“Because you didn’t tell me. Didn’t ask” You touch his chest. “Just decided for me.”
His hand covers yours. “Caleb always choose savi. Always protect. Always…” He struggles for words. “Need savi safe. Need savi happy. Want savi have Caleb pup. Grow family. Fill empty place.”
You swallow. “What empty place?”
He presses your hand more firmly to his chest, over his heart. “Here. Empty whole life. Until savi. Now…” He guides your hand lower, to your own stomach. “Want fill savi too. Make family. Make…complete.”
Despite your anger, despite everything, your heart clenches.
“The tribe is dying,” you say softly. “Tara told me.”
“Yes.” His expression is pained. “No pup, long time. Tribe end soon. Then…” He gestures helplessly. “Savi come. Human come. Can make pup. Save tribe.”
“So that’s all we are? Breeding stock?”
“No!” He grips your face in both hands. “Savi is everything. Is mate. Is love. Is reason Caleb breathe.” His forehead presses to yours. “Pup is…is gift. Is future. But savi is now. Is always.”
You close your eyes. “You should have told me.”
“Would tell. When words better. When savi understand.” His thumb strokes your cheek. “Sorry. Caleb sorry.”
You can hear the genuine regret in his voice, feel it through the resonance that’s been building between you. It settles something in your chest that’s been tight and angry.
“I know,” you whisper. “I’m still upset, but…I know.”
His hand slides from your face down your throat, resting over your racing pulse. “Savi not leave? Not with other male?”
“There is no other male, you jealous idiot.”
Relief floods through the resonance, followed immediately by that raw, desperate hunger. “Tell truth. Savi want Caleb pup?”
Your body responds for you—nipples hardening, pulse quickening, wet heat pulsing to your core—and through the bond he feels it. Feels your arousal at his possessive claim.
His eyes go dark.
"Savi like this," he says, not a question. His hand returns to your stomach, pressing harder. "Like idea of Caleb pup. Of everyone seeing. Of being Caleb's."
“Yes,” you whisper.
His whole body goes rigid. "Yes?"
"Yes." You reach up slowly, trailing your fingers along his jaw. "I want to carry your baby, Caleb. Want my belly to grow round with your child." Your fingers drift higher, tracing the base of one horn. He shudders. "Want everyone to see and know exactly who I belong to."
"Savi—" He groans, voice strangled.
"But you know what else I want?" You wrap your hand around his horn gently, and his hips jerk forward involuntarily. "I want them to know you're mine, too. Want every female in that tribe to see the marks I leave on you and know to keep their hands off of what's mine."
"Yes—savi mark Caleb—please—"
"Will you let me?" You stroke along his horn experimentally, and he makes a broken sound. "Let me claim you the way you want to claim me? Let me show everyone that you belong to me just as much as I belong to you?"
"Yes. Anything. Everything savi want—" He's trembling now, grasping at the stone on either side of your head, his arousal pressing hard against your body.
"I want you inside me," you murmur against his ear, and he groans. "Want to feel you fill me. Want you to breed me properly, Caleb. Want you to make sure your seed takes root."
The sound he makes is almost anguished.
"Want that so much," he breathes. "Want give savi pup. Want see savi belly grow. Want—want everything with savi."
"Then let me see you." You pull his head down to yours, your lips brushing his with each word. "I want to see how much you want it. I want to explore you the way you explored me."
His eyes widen. "Explore?"
"Take off your clothes, Caleb." You step back, giving him space. "Let me look at you. Touch you. Learn you."
He obeys immediately, stripping away his minimal coverings with shaking hands. And then he's standing before you, completely bare, his arousal prominent and impossible to ignore.
You take your time looking. Really looking. The lean muscle wrapped in that blue-violet skin. The way his tail moves restlessly behind him. The thick length standing proud between his legs, that curious ridge along the top prominent.
"Beautiful," you breathe, and watch pink flush across his cheeks. "You're so beautiful, Caleb."
You move closer, trailing your fingers over his chest, feeling the vibration of his khui beneath your palm. Lower, tracing the defined muscles of his stomach. He's trembling under your touch.
"Can I touch you here?" Your hand hovers near his length.
"Please—yes—savi touch—"
You wrap your hand around him carefully, and his hips buck forward with a groan. The texture fascinates you—hot and hard and smooth, with ridges that have you clenching around nothing. You stroke slowly, learning the shape of him, the way he pulses in your hand.
And just above his cock, there’s a feature you don’t have a name for yet, but can’t stop noticing—a spur-like ridge that’s firm to the touch.
"Tell me about this," you murmur, running your thumb over the spur. "What does this do?"
“Do not know. Just—just part of Caleb. Part of all males,” he gasps out. “Why? Is wrong?”
“No. Not wrong. Just...different. Interesting.” You stroke over it again, fascinated by his responses. “Will it feel good for me?”
He nods ferociously. "Yes—so good—Caleb promise—"
You kneel in front of him, and his eyes go wide.
“Savi? What you—”
Instead of answering, you lean forward and lick along the side of his length, tasting him. The flavor explodes on your tongue—salt and skin and something sweeter, something that makes the resonance cry out between you, makes every nerve ending light up with need.
“Oh—” The word escapes you. “You taste—”
“Savi—” His hand threads into your hair, not forcing, just holding on. “What savi doing—Caleb can’t—if savi keep—”
You lick along the other side, then trace your tongue over his spur. His whole body shudders.
“Please—savi please—Caleb can’t—can’t stop—”
When you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and hollow out your cheeks, he breaks with a shout.
“Savi!” He tries to pull you back, but it’s too late. You feel him pulse, feel the warmth flood your mouth. The taste is intense, intoxicating, making the khui thrum louder. You swallow once but there’s more, and when he finally stops shaking, you pull back.
“Sorry—Caleb sorry—too fast—Caleb ruin—” He’s apologizing frantically, but you’re not listening.
You’re gathering what spilled on your hand and between your own thighs, coating your fingers with his seed, and then you’re pressing them inside yourself.
His eyes go absolutely wild.
“What—what savi doing—”
“Not wasting it.” You work his release inside you with deliberate movements, watching his expression shift from shock to desperate, possessive hunger. “You’re mine, Caleb. All of you. Every part of you. I want it all.”
“Oh, savi—” His voice breaks. He drops to his knees, pulling your hand away and replacing it with his own, pushing his seed deeper inside you with two thick fingers. “Caleb’s. Savi put Caleb seed in savi. Keep it. Want it.”
“Yes—want it—want you—”
He’s still hard—impossibly, immediately hard again. He lifts you in his arms and carries you to the furs, laying you down with infinite care.
“Caleb hurt savi?” His hand hovers over your entrance, which is already wet with his release and your arousal. “Caleb big. Savi small. Caleb scared to hurt.”
“You won’t hurt me,” you assure him, although you’re not entirely sure that’s the truth You reach for him anyway. “Please. I need you inside me. Need to feel you. Need—”
“Slow,” he says firmly, positioning himself between your legs. “Caleb go slow. Make sure savi okay.”
He notches himself at your entrance, and even through your desperation, you can see the concentration on his face. The way he’s fighting every instinct to just take.
“Ready?” he asks quietly.
“Yes—please—Caleb—”
He pushes in slowly. Just the tip at first, letting you adjust to the stretch. His forehead is beaded with sweat, arms trembling where they brace on either side of you.
“More,” you gasp.
He sinks deeper, inch by careful inch. The stretch is intense but not painful, your body opening for him with each press forward.
“Oh—Caleb, that feels—fuck—”
“What is fuck?” He freezes, and you whine at the pause. “Savi hurt? Caleb stop—”
“No!” You scramble for his wrists, gripping them tightly in encouragement. “No—good—fuck is good. It means it feels really good.”
He nods once and continues until he’s fully seated, and you both make broken sounds. He’s so deep, so thick, filling you completely. The ridged length drags sinfully against your walls with each small movement, and that spur is pressed against your clit in a way that makes your vision blur.
“Savi,” he breathes. “So tight. So perfect. Feel so—Caleb never—never feel anything like—”
“Move,” you beg. “Please move—”
He starts with shallow thrusts, learning the rhythm. Each drag of that spur against your most sensitive spot makes you gasp, makes pleasure build impossibly higher and higher and higher. He notices immediately, adjusting his angle to make sure it hits that spot every time.
“Here?” he pants. “This good for savi?”
“Yes, right there—fuck—don’t stop—”
Understanding dawns in his eyes. He tests the movement again, watching your face. "Fuck?"
"Yes—oh, god, yes—"
A wicked smile crosses his face. He starts moving with more purpose, that ridge hitting perfectly with each thrust.
"Fuck," he says, testing it out. He tries it again with more confidence. "Caleb fuck savi. Make savi feel nice. Yes?"
"Yes—Caleb—please—"
"Caleb fuck savi good," he continues, clearly proud of his new word. "Fuck savi until pup takes. Until everyone knows. Fuck savi forever."
The crude word in his accent, combined with the possessive intent behind it, pushes you closer to the edge.
“Forever,” he repeats as his hand slides between your bodies, finding where you’re joined. His fingers explore the wetness—his seed and your arousal mixed together. “This is Caleb’s. Inside savi. Making savi wet. Making savi ready for pup.”
“Yes,” you breathe. You pull him closer by the back of his neck until your sweat-slicked foreheads press together, clinging to the contact like it’s the only thing keeping you steady. “Fuck, I want that. Want everyone to know you claimed me. Made me yours.”
“Mine,” he groans, his thrusts becoming deeper. “Want that too. Want see savi belly grow. Want—want—”
Without thinking, driven by pure instinct and the singing of the khui, you lean up and bite his shoulder. Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave a mark.
He shouts, his whole body going rigid. You lick over the mark soothingly, and he shudders.
“Savi mark Caleb?”
“Yes.” You bite his throat next, gentler, then lick the spot. “Mine. You’re mine, Caleb. Want everyone to see.”
“Yes—savi’s—only savi’s—” He’s moving faster now, spur dragging perfectly with each thrust. His hand finds your breast, thumb circling your nipple. “And savi is Caleb’s. Only Caleb’s.”
“Only yours—always yours—”
Every thrust, every drag of that spur against your clit, every touch of his hands—it’s all combining with the resonance until you can barely tell where you end and he begins.
“Close,” you gasp. “Caleb, I’m so close—”
“Yes. Come for Caleb. Let Caleb feel savi come around Caleb. Let—”
The orgasm crashes through you, and through the bond you feel his matching pleasure, his overwhelming satisfaction. He thrusts deep and holds, and you feel the warmth flooding inside you again, more of it this time, his body ensuring you take everything.
But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t pull out. Just adjusts his angle and keeps moving, working his release deeper inside you.
“More,” he pants. “Need give savi more. Need fill savi so full. Need make sure pup takes. Need more.”
"Yes," you agree desperately, the sound of your need unrecognizable to your own ears. "More. Want more. Want to be full of you. Want you. Only you."
He makes love to you again, slower this time but no less intense. His hands map every inch of your body, learning what makes you gasp, what makes you arch. And you touch him the same way, claiming him with your hands, your mouth, your teeth.
You're oversensitive, overstimulated, but the bond is driving you both. The desperate need to claim, to be claimed, to create something permanent that binds you.
"Love savi," he murmurs. "Love savi so much. Want to give savi everything. Want to make savi happy. Want to make family with savi. Want—want everything. With savi."
He speaks with the same certainty he always has, offering you everything without asking for anything back.
And something clicks into place. Not suddenly—just finally.
“I love you, too, Caleb,” you whisper. "I want you. Want this. Want everything with you, too."
He makes a small sound, like he’s been holding his breath for a very long time. And for a heartbeat, he just looks at you—eyes wide, stunned, almost disbelieving. His mouth finds yours a moment later, soft and reverent, like he’s kissing the words as much as your lips. It isn’t rushed. It isn’t desperate. It’s warm and sure, tongue sliding against yours over and over, like he’s sealing something precious between you.
Then he's moving again, fucking into you with thrusts that are deep and insistent and all-consuming.
"Savi is gift," he breathes. "Caleb wait whole life. Wait for savi. Now have savi. Never let go. Never."
The next orgasm is gentle, rolling through you both like a wave. He comes with esha savi on his lips, and you feel it settle—the certainty that you're his, he's yours, and something new has been created between you.
He finally stills, still buried deep as he gathers you into his chest.
"Caleb stay inside," he says. "Keep seed in. Make sure pup take."
You respond with a kiss, too exhausted to argue over the logistics of alien reproductive biology.
“Pup is made,” he says with absolute certainty. “Caleb feel it. Savi full of Caleb now. Pup will grow here.”
“You're very sure about the pup,” you say, tracing absentminded patterns with your finger on his chest.
“Is certain.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “Caleb know. Khui tell Caleb. Savi is Caleb’s now. Forever. And soon—soon savi will be round with Caleb pup. And everyone will know. Know savi choose Caleb. Know Caleb choose savi.”
You glide your fingers over the bite marks on his shoulder. “They’ll know you’re mine, too.”
"Good." His arms tighten, pulling you impossibly closer. "Want everyone know Caleb belong to savi." He presses his forehead to yours, and through the bond you feel it—his overwhelming love, his absolute devotion, his certainty that this is exactly where you both belong. "Never let savi go. Never let anything hurt savi. Never—"
"I know," you whisper, cutting off his fierce promises with another kiss. "I know."
"Savi and Caleb," he breathes against your lips. "And soon, pup. Family. Forever."
Forever.
The word that once terrified you now settles warm in your chest. Forever with this obsessive, protective, utterly devoted male who looks at you like you're someone worth protecting. Forever in his arms, carrying his child, marked and claimed and cherished.
Forever doesn't sound like a prison anymore.
It sounds like home.
"Forever," you agree, and mean it with every fiber of your being.
His smile is radiant. He pulls you closer still, tucking your head beneath his chin, his hand never leaving your stomach where he's convinced his child is already growing.
And wrapped in his warmth, claimed and claiming, loved and loving—
You finally understand what savi really means. You're his reason to be strong, Caleb explained to you. His reason to become worthy.
But he's yours, too. Your reason to stop running. Your reason to choose survival in this frozen world over mourning the life you left behind. Your reason to believe in forevers and families and futures you never imagined wanting.
He made himself worthy of you. And you, impossibly, grew into someone worthy of him in return.
You are his to keep. His to protect. His to love. And he is yours—your reason to stay, your reason to believe, your reason to call this frozen world home.
I’ll be taking a break from here, gotta lock in play RE9 hehe (and maybe make some RE fanart), will be back when caleb 3rd myth announce 👋 for ask from inbox sorry i cant answer it now, pls be patient 🙏
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“He kissed her, and because Zuko didn’t have the gift of using the right words at the right time, he put into the kiss everything he wished he was skilled enough to say.
I’m sorry for what I did. It’s one of my biggest regrets. I’ll never betray you again. I haven’t stopped thinking about the cave, and since I joined the group, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
oofuri is trending on twt/x rn bc 2 members from the kpop boy group NCT are going to star in a baseball centered sports drama titled "Wind Up" so everyone and their mamas are pulling out the gay shit from oofuri even tho the drama has nothing to do with it. u cant make this shit up
not trying to bring discourse to tumblr but wanted to share a bit more of my thoughts on imperial thronesong that i had as a result of some discourse surrounding it
this is copy and pasted from twitter, i am simply sharing it here to add as an addendum to my original post about it <3
part 1
seeing people say imperial thronesong is fanfic smut slop is so odd.
imperial thronesong is almost an antithesis (this might not be the right narrative device to describe it, but you get the idea) of decoherence.
X-02 and A-01 show us calebmc in the most innocent form, whereas imperial thronesong show us calebmc in the most unabashed carnal form.
@/xyzScarlett0613 (x) made an excellent point that the banner is literally called throne of eros. eros is the god of love and SEX. physical desire, longing, and passion (whereas eros’s mother aphrodite embodies more “love” as a whole).
in fact, sexual intimacy is used by calebmc in imperial thronesong as a means for them to convey their feelings to each other, without verbalizing them as these two do NOT trust each other and seem to have a hard time saying how they feel to one another (was talking to
@/AleBunnie (x) was talking about this). they use sex not only as a means for them to express how they feel, but also an excuse not to have to verbalize it.
in imperial thronesong, mc says “people are like this sometimes. they know their words are irrational, yet they're unable to stop themselves from saying them.” which holds up a mirror to the fact that the things they WANT to and SHOULD say, they cannot.
during the intimate scene, one of the most IMPACTFUL moments in the entire memory shows up. “when we embrace we seemingly wants to embed himself into my very being. he wants to return to that point in primordial chaos where we had yet to be separated.”
caleb used intimacy to convey the MAIN themes of their tropes and this memory. they are from the same source, made of the same thing, part of each other. and despite fate and circumstance ALWAYS separating these two twin flames, they find a way to merge and be together.
to say infold wrote caleb into a caricature of a yandere is laughable. he’s always been this way and a royal feud AU allows us to see this in different angles, different from what is appropriate in the main story AU, catch-22 AU, etc.
to say they’ve reduced him to a weird fetish kink literally speaks more to how YOU view calebmc. their blood-connection is brought up i think maybe once or twice and it’s done so to once again convey their shared origin and subsequent separation. i’m not gonna beat this dead horse, i already explained my view on the “blood-connection” line which i quoted below.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
areudirty
romaincrisis
pixelskylines
titsay
tangentwithtanner
