"Hey, pipsqueak, have you seen my—" Caleb comes, ambling like he does, into the bedroom, where he sees you. You're wrapped in his pilot jacket, the sleeves too long and shoulders too wide as you're practically knee deep in laundry.

"Oh... you're wearing my jacket." His voice is soft as Caleb watches you from the doorway. Other than your huge laundry load, the room is spotless, like you've been cleaning all day. You clutch his t-shirt, half-folded in your hands, a little tighter.

"Mhm... was cold while you were out." You mumble, blushing in the cheeks from his focused gaze. "Anyway," you say, finishing your folding of the shirt and putting it off to the side, "You're home early. I was gonna give it back before you came home."

Caleb's face breaks into the world's brightest grin then. "I couldn't focus." He explains. "all day, all I could think about was how much I missed you. I lied about being sick so I could rush home sooner.”

“Caleb…” the words to scold him don't come, they catch in your throat. Instead you sigh. “C’mere, baby…” Surrender.

If it's even possible, Caleb's shining smile grows even wider. He tries to come closer with impeccable control, stepping in the room slowly. It's the opposite of rushing you and knocking you onto your back against the floor like he's been itching to all day.

When he reaches where you sit on the floor, he drops to his knees in front of you with a soft thump. He's still taller than you, even like this, and you tilt your head just to look him in those big purple puppy eyes, clear as the morning sky.

You can smell the need on him and it makes you clench your fists tight as it envelops you. The warmth from his body radiates like a space heater.

“You're in heat…” you whisper, nose twitching with nervousness, your face warm. Your season has been going too— for days actually—a whirlwind of busy-ness and avoidance, and snapiness you tried to make up for with this. Cleaning, chores, homemaking, your body wash and perfume rubbing scent off onto his things.

“Mm…” He hums confirmation, forehead dropping to touch yours. “Yeah… but so are you, I can smell it everywhere, look at how twitchy you are, bunny baby.”

Your cheeks grow even hotter, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, unable to stop yourself from sinking your teeth into the skin, just a little. The faint pressure of your teeth makes him shiver, a small moan coming from his throat. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair holding you there.

“Good girl, just like that,” he breathes, voice rough with arousal. “Mark me. I want everyone to see.”

You release his neck, lapping over the reddened mark with a soft apologetic lick then kiss.

“I was… I was trying to be good,” you whisper against his skin, your confession tumbling out. “I cleaned everything. Folded all your things. I thought if I made everything perfect, this… this feeling… would go away.”

Caleb pulls back just enough to look at you, his purple eyes dark with understanding and sheer, unadulterated want. “It doesn’t work like that, does it, pips?” he murmurs, his thumb stroking your fever-warm cheek. “All the folding in the world doesn’t fix the ache.”

You shake your head before pulling him into you again, wrapping your arms around him. You hug him as tightly as you can inhaling deeply with your face buried in his bulky chest.

“Caleb, be a good boy, please. I need you to lie down.” You can feel the hard line of his arousal rubbing against you when you say it, the amount he's holding back just to be good for you. To let you take the lead.

A full-body shudder wracks his frame at your request, a soft, punched-out whimper escaping his throat. The sound is pure submission. He moves immediately, his large body unfolding from its kneeling position to lie back on the soft carpet amidst the piles of clean folded laundry. The scent of him—of home and want and Caleb—explodes around you, mingling with the clean linen and your apple perfume.

He looks up at you, his purple eyes hazy with devotion, his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. His hands rest palm-up at his sides, a gesture of utter surrender.

You crawl over him, the oversized jacket swallowing your form, the sleeves falling over your hands. You brace your hands on either side of his head, caging him in. Your hair curtains around your faces, and you see the pulse hammering in his throat, right beside the fresh, red mark you left.

"All day," you whisper, your voice low and thick with a need you're finally allowing yourself to feel. "All I could think about was your scent on this jacket. It was driving me crazy. I was folding your shirts and I just wanted to bury myself in them."

"Please," he breathes, his hands flexing, desperate to touch but refusing to break his promise of stillness. "Honey, please."

"You're my good puppy," you murmur, lowering your head to nuzzle his jaw, then his ear. "My perfect, good boy who came home to me."

You shift your weight, settling over him, and the feeling of his hardness against your core, even through the layers of fabric, makes you both gasp. His eyes screw shut, a low groan rumbling in his chest as his hips give a tiny, involuntary jerk upwards.

“Mmm…” he whimpers, eyes glazing over, hands flying up to grasp your waist.

The soft, worn cotton of his jeans and the thin fabric of your clothes together feel like such an unbearable barrier. A shaky sigh escapes you, fogging the skin of his neck.

"You're being so good for me," you praise, your voice a husky whisper. You shift again, a slow, teasing roll of your hips that has his breath catching in a ragged gasp. His hands clench into fists on the carpet, the tendons in his forearms standing out. "You don't have to be still... Touch me, please…"

His hands fly to your hips, large and warm, gripping you with a possessiveness that makes your head spin. He guides your movements, his own hips rising to meet yours in a slow, grinding rhythm that is pure, agonizing friction. The jacket slips from one of your shoulders, pooling around your elbow, but you don't care. All you can feel is him, solid and wanting beneath you.

"Look at me," he pleads, his voice strained.

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. His purple eyes are blown wide, the pupils swallowing the morning-sky color, leaving only a dark, stormy ring. They're full of so much—adoration, desperation, a love so deep it looks like pain.

"I missed you," he chokes out, the words raw and honest between panting breaths. "I miss you even when you're right here. It's so constant.”

His hands on your waist are firm and attentive, you can feel how he attempts to loosen his grip as you grind against him. "You feel that?" you whisper, breathy, "Can you feel how much I need you? It's been like a fever under my skin all day. I scrubbed the floors until they were shiny, just so I could maybe feel the burn in my muscles instead of this one.”

A sharp, sympathetic sound catches in his throat.

“Silly girl,” he whispers back to you. His voice is husky, deep with a craving only you could fill. He takes one of the hands that you have against his chest into his. He thumbs slow circles onto the back of your hand while pressing a soft apologetic kiss to your fingers.

"Let me make it better," he breathes, his voice ragged. "Let me take care of you, baby. Please.”

The hand not holding yours comes up to gently push the fallen sleeve of his jacket the rest of the way off your shoulder. The heavy fabric pools at your back, leaving you feeling both exposed and empowered, cradled in the shell of his scent.

"Take care of me how?" you ask him, your voice barely there. You’re still moving against him, that slow winding press that has him biting his lower lip, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he forces them open to hold your gaze.

"However you need," he breathes, his thumb still stroking circles on your hand. "Let me... let me taste you. Let me worship you. You've been working so hard all day, taking care of our home. Let me take care of you… it's all I want.”

A soft, shuddering sigh escapes you, your body going pliant over his. The last vestiges of your control, the need to have everything perfect, evaporate. You nod, a barely-there dip of your chin.

"Okay," you whisper, the word a sacred permission. "Okay, Caleb. Please."

The effect is instant. A deep groan comes from his chest, and the hands on your hips still your grinding motions with gentle, but firm, pressure. He shifts beneath you.

"Let me up for a second, honey," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing against your ear. "Just for a second."

Reluctantly, you push yourself up, kneeling over him. He sits up, his eyes never leaving yours, and his hands come to the collar of the oversized jacket you wear. He doesn't rip it off, but he peels it from your shoulders with a slowness that is its own form of torture, his knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, your collarbones. The heavy fabric falls away, pooling behind you on the floor, a nest of his scent.

He looks at you the way he's always looked at you, like you're all he's ever wanted, all he's ever wanted to want. His lashes are long and his face is flushed, his smile something close to grateful, but lustful too. His breath hitches as he sees you without the shield of his clothes.

"Beautiful," he breathes, and the word is so full of awe it aches.

His fingers move to the hem of your shirt, hooking under the soft cotton. He looks at you for one more confirmation, and you give it with another slow nod. He lifts it up and over your head, tossing it aside to join the jacket. The cool air of the room kisses your skin, but it's nothing compared to the heat of his stare and the physical warmth of him.

All the love in the world is in his careful touch on your waist, in this bright purple eyes. Your world lights up when he's near like this, and it's hard not to press your thighs together, the arousal growing embarrassingly wet, thick, and pulsing between your legs. Shallow breaths escape your nose as your heart speeds impossibly faster.

His hands are warm and slightly rough, a pilot's hands, as they skate from your waist up your spine. They push into your hair, cradling the base of your skull, and he draws you in for a kiss that is all soft, searching pressure. It’s a kiss of hello, of homecoming, of I’ve missed you with my whole being. Your lips part for him with a sigh, his tongue invading your mouth with slick ease, melting you into butter in his grasp.

He lays you back with a gentleness and restraint that shouldn't be possible with the need that is climbing up his spine and down his core. If he had a tail it would be thumping incessantly, you think. The laundry and his jacket surround you, a cloud of fabric, with hair spilling around you too.

“Have I finally died, pips? Is it all over? Did I earn heaven?” He whispers, murmuring into your neck with hot breath and sloppy kisses, suckling sweet bruises into your pliant skin. “Let me finish seeing you, n then I will ease your pain. That's all it will take to ease mine too… aren't we lucky to have each other? I couldn't imagine this any other way…”

He's still kissing your neck, then your chest, when his hand slides down your stomach. The touch is gentle but somehow still too much, making you arch pitifully into him with a softened whimper. His hand so skillfully undoes the tie of your sweats before he hooks his finger into your underwear and the pants at once, pulling them down your legs and then off of you. He tosses them away.

Then he moves, his own need so palpable you can barely look at him.

He stands just long enough to rid himself of his own clothes. His shirt is pulled over his head, revealing the familiar, well-loved landscape of his torso, all firm muscle and warm skin. His jeans and boxers follow, kicked away with a quiet urgency. He kneels between your legs again, completely bare, his arousal obvious, his body a promise of what is to come.

“Caleb…” your arms wrap around his shoulders as he cages you in with his forearms resting against the floor. The sheen of sweat over his muscle makes him glow in the afternoon light from the window, and your body is warmed by both the light and by him at once.

“I want you to put me inside, can you do that, bunny baby?”

You whimper involuntarily at his husky request, your eyes wild as you look into his. His gaze is calm but he's sweating like a fever and trembling like a plucked string. He's so good for you it hurts him, and that fact pleasures you more than you'd care to admit.

You nod, your breath coming in shallow, your hand reaching to hold the hard, thick length of his aching cock. The precum that's dripped down it is wet in your small hand. He groans at the contact, his hips jerking forward.

“Mm… fuck… m'sorry…” he pants, his eyelashes fluttering against his pretty freckled cheeks as his eyes stutter shut.

“Mm-mm, s'okay… you're… so good…” you respond to his aching apology with breathy reassurances, stroking him a couple times as you line him up with your dripping entrance. He groans, his hips bucking again, pressing the entrance impatiently with his leaking tip, eliciting a soft whimper from you once again. “Caleb… please?~”

He doesn't need you to ask him twice. One hand in your waist and then he's pushing through, inch by devastating inch, slowly, as if even now, even with you melted into his hands and begging for him, he needs to prove that he can hold back even the most extreme of his urges. When he's fully seated, his hand squeezing into your skin, he whines again, the sound helpless and grateful. And then he moves.

It's clear that he tries to start slow, pulling in and out with attentive care, your walls pulsing around him inside of you.

“God it's perfect, it's so good,” he babbles into your neck, as you arch against his strokes. Your hands chase up his biceps, and you buck your hips faster into him.

“More, I need more…”

“Mngh… k-kay, yes ma'am…” he groans, his bangs falling wildly over his eyes and brows. He drives into you faster and harder now, your hips rising to meet him but still, as good as it feels, it's not enough.

“Caleb… I need to be on top, please, let me ride you instead, babe… cmon, please,” you whine squeezing his biceps, again.

He breathes out in aroused exasperation, holding still before pulling out and bringing you closer against him. The emptiness makes your head spin, but he rolls both over before you have anything to say.

“Go on then, honey, use me as much as you need. I'm yours to take.”

And take him you do. You plunge down on top of him, frantic and overwhelmingly fast, unsheathing him, only to fill yourself with him all over again mere seconds later. Your soft wet walls are milking him as you try to hit the ache where it blooms, deep inside, the tip of him hitting your sweet spot again and again.

"Fuck.." Caleb groans, his voice higher than usual as his head throws back. His hands find your thigh as your back bracing you against each other. The lewd slap of wetness and skin against skin fills the room over and over. Sweat drips down your skin and gasps, whimpers and moans mix with the sounds of your manic coupling. The way you ride him now, it's the finest, most exquisite torture. "Mmph... b-baby it's hard to last when you-"

Your hand flies over his mouth, stopping his words in their tracks. His eyes grow wide.

"Please just wait a little while longer, you can do that can't you? For me? Yeah?"

The way his eyebrows knit together he looks like he could come right then, but still, he nods underneath your pressed palm, hopelessly devoted, committed to pleasing you. To think, he really thought that he'd be too much for you like this, and you're proving it is likely the opposite. He closes his eyes in surrender and you slowly move your hand from over his mouth.

An exasperated sound leaves Caleb's throat, strangled and desperate as your hand frees his mouth. His eyes, dark and wild, stay locked onto yours, as pressing and obedient as ever. His entire body trembles with the effort of being there for you to use.

“My best boy,”you whisper, leaning forward onto his chest, braced on your forearms. “I love…that you try so hard… help me out here.” As u push back into him with a slamming bounce, your noisy puppy of a man is heaving, shaking, his trembling hands sliding down your sweaty waist and back to slam you into him.

“Fuck…” He whines, going still before…

“God… like this? Is this what you want?” His cock slams hard against your cervix, your stomach curving with a clear bulge over and over with the ram of it, again and again… “please tell me it's—”

The next slam makes you cry out, cutting off his pleading begging for validation. Your legs shake, thumping against his straddled sides. You practically lift off of him by the force alone, collapsing off your arms, your face pressed flat onto his chest. The slamming in and out doesn't stop, but he lets out a huff of breath in victory. “Yeah?” he teases.

“Mmhm.” You whine, the perfect punching of your g-spot pushing you back into submission. “P-perfect.” You can hardly move as he fucks into, your body perfectly heavy against him.

With you collapsed and pliant against his chest, Caleb takes over completely, his control shattering into something raw and instinctual. Each drive of his body punches a sharp, breathy sound from your lungs, your face pressed into the sweat-slick hollow of his throat.

You can feel everything—the frantic hammer of his heart against your cheek, the flex and coil of his stomach muscles with every thrust, the way his hands scramble for purchase on your slick back, desperate to keep you locked against him. Each thrust punches the air out of you in forced breaths.

“Mm… taking me s-so deep,” he chokes out, and the words are broken prayer against your ear. His rhythm is relentless now, a primal, pounding beat that leaves no room for thought, only feeling. The ache that had been a constant, low hum in your core for days suddenly tightens, coiling into a sharp, impossible point of pressure.

A high, thin whine escapes you, muffled by his skin. The sound is such a helpless one, but it translates.

“Cmon, baby,” his voice is ragged and thick with the strain of holding on the edge for so long. One of his hands slides between your wet bodies, and his thumb finds the swollen and oversensitive bud of your clit, pressing in a slow, attentive circle. “Let go for me, come all over my cock, I know you're close. Please…”

A broken cry tears from your throat then as you convulse around him, your vision whiting out entirely. Your inner walls clamp around him in a series of violent milking spasms that drag a helpless roar from Caleb's chest. The sensation, alongside the naughty sounds you make as you come, is the undoing of his impeccable control.

He bucks into you once, twice, three more times, his rhythm stuttering, and then he stills, buried to the hilt. A long shuddering moan is drawn out of him as he pours into you. His release is hot and seemingly endless, his cock pulsing with it. His arms lock around you, crushing you against him as he empties himself into your welcoming heat.

For a long moment, there is only the sound of ragged breathing, the beat of two hearts hammering against each other. Slowly, carefully, Caleb slips out of you, and a mutual, oversensitive shudder runs through you both. The absence of him is a profound, hollow feeling, a temporary relief that you already know is a lie.

The frantic, buzzing need has quieted, retreating to a low, contented hum beneath your skin. You know it’s not gone. It’s just… satisfied. For now.

“It’s going to come back, you know,” you mumble into his collarbone, your voice wrecked and raw. “Probably… in a few hours. Maybe less.”

Caleb chuckles, a soft, breathless laugh beneath your ear. His hand, still tangled in your hair, strokes lazily. “I know, pipsqueak. I know it already.”

There’s a beat of comfortable silence, filled with the fading echoes of your pleasure. Then, a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” you both say at the exact same time.

You lift your head, meeting his dazed, purple eyes. A confused little smile tugs at your lips. “What are you sorry for?”

“For… I don’t know. For being so much?” he offers, his cheeks flushing. “For needing you so desperately it feels like a sickness. For probably squeezing your hips too hard.”

You shake your head, your nose brushing his. “I’m sorry for being so frantic. For biting you. And for… well, for basically using you as my personal stress-relief toy.”

His grin is immediate, bright and goofy. “You can use me anytime. Please, use me anytime you want.” He shifts, and a wince flickers across his face. “Okay, maybe after a five-minute break. And a shower. We definitely need a shower.”

The mere thought of standing feels like a monumental task. Every muscle in your body has turned to warm, liquid jelly.

“I’m not sure I can walk,” you confess, your legs feeling like they’ve been replaced with cooked noodles.

“Me neither,” he admits with a chuckle. “We’re a mess.”

Somehow, with a great deal of clumsy laughter and mutual clutching, you both manage to get to your feet. The floor seems unsteady, and you sway into each other, his arm snapping out to catch you around the waist.

“Whoa there, bunny baby.”

“S’your fault, puppy. You broke my legs.”

He leads you, both of you wobbly and clinging to one another, toward the bathroom. The air is still thick with the scent of sex and his cologne and your perfume, a heady mix that promises this is only a temporary ceasefire.

Under the spray of the shower, the silliness continues. He fumbles with the shampoo bottle, and you lean against the tiles for support, giggling as he washes your hair with an almost comical level of concentration. You return the favor, your hands sliding over his soap-slicked shoulders, and he lets out a contented sigh, his eyes closing.

It isn’t a solution. The heat, the need, the delicious, maddening cycle of it—it’s all still there, waiting just beneath the surface. But right now, clean and warm and wrapped in soft towels, stumbling back toward the nest of laundry on the floor, all that exists is this. His hand in yours. The silly, sated smiles you can’t seem to wipe off your faces.

Caleb sighs and shakes his head with a helpless smile on his face, raising his hand to his forehead. "...Right."

"Taking care of your skin is important, you know!" you say, brandishing a jade roller towards him. "Shouldn't you know that, Mr. Glass Skin?"

"I just use a cleanser in the morning sometimes if I feel like it. I had no idea there were so many different products you can put on your face."

"Bastard!" you swear, grabbing his face and squishing it with one hand. "Curse you and your clear skin genes!"

Caleb looks silly, startled with wide eyes and lips puckered up like a fish. He pries your hand off his face, grasping your wrist gently. He meets your glare with an adoring smile. "Well, my skin's not perfect." Caleb looks at himself in the mirror. "I noticed some sunspots forming on the side of my face. It's probably because of the sun exposure I get from flying hours on end." His smile fades by just the slightest bit. "I should wear sunscreen more often."

You shake his hand off your wrist now, even more annoyed than before. You suddenly pinch his cheeks, hard.

"Ow! What—"

You let go and kiss his cheeks right where the sunspots are, leaving Caleb stunned.

"You should wear sunscreen because it lowers your risk of cancer," you say, gripping the collar of his shirt. "Not because of the sunspots. I like the way they look on your skin."

Any shred of doubt or anxiety melts away from Caleb's expression. He pulls you in for a hug, holding you tightly to his chest. Caleb nuzzles the top of your head with his face, bumping your headband slightly. "You got it, Colonel. Now, put me through your skincare bootcamp."

By the end of your skincare routine, you both have soft and luminous skin. You cross your arms and tilt your chin up smugly. "How does it feel to have such moisturized skin, Colonel?"

Caleb rubs his chin. "It feels like we should be preparing for a magazine photo shoot by this point."

"But was it relaxing?"

You look so cute, tugging on his arm, eagerly awaiting his answer. You're always so concerned for his health, both mentally and physically. It washes over his heart like sunlight passing through dewdrops on a hot summer morning. Like a sunflower that tilts towards the sunshine, Caleb wants to follow your warmth wherever you go. You’ve transformed his heart into a heliotrope with your love. Caleb grasps your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

"Any activity is relaxing when I'm with you," he murmurs.

You smile with relief. Every weekend now features at least one morning of self-care for the both of you to share together. Maybe next time, you'll buy some face masks to try together with him!

❀ RAFAYEL

the gentle warmth of the sun is beginning to rise over the horizon, showering the glistening waves in a golden hue. the crisp morning air flows through the cracked windows of your lover’s home and causes you to retreat deeper into the plush duvet of rafayel’s bed. the ocean air is cool and your body seeks the comfort and safety of the blanket wrapped around you. as the chill begins to seep through the cracks of the blanket and rouse you from your slumber, you feel the dip of the bed of another body joining you. your eyes crack open slightly and catch a blurry purple blob pull back the covers and a familiar warmth encase you.

the familiar scent of the sea breeze and clean laundry brings a sense of comfort to you and you automatically wrap your arms around your lover as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. it seems he stayed up a tad too late on his artistic endeavors and is only now going to bed just as the day is beginning. your fingers play with the ends of rafayel’s purple hair, twirling them around your finger as you gently massage his scalp.

“g’morning,” you mumble out sleepily. rafayel doesn’t say anything and responds with his nose nuzzling the side of your neck. you sigh sleepily and pull away from your lover for a brief moment to look at him.

through your half-asleep daze, you could see your purple haired lover looking at you with his beautiful azure-pink eyes. his gaze is as fiery as his evol, filled with passion and so many emotions that sometimes it's hard to read just exactly what he's thinking. as if on instinct, your hand finds its way to the side of rafayel's face and cups his jaw. your thumb rubs gently across his cheek and your heart flutters as the artist leans into your touch. soft, pillowy lips gently press against the sensitive skin of your palm, but his eyes never leave yours.

"go back to sleep, cutie. don't wake up so early because of me," rafayel whispers against your skin. his hand encases your own and he buries his face into your palm, indulging himself in the warmth and familiarity of your skin on his. he presses another kiss this time on your inner wrist before shifting so that he's eye to eye with you.

you can see the dark eye-bags beginning to form underneath your lover's eyes and your thumb gently caresses the skin.

"shouldn't i be telling you to sleep more?" you murmur as your eyes rake over his face. it's impossible to hide the furrow in your brow as you examine every inch of your lover's face for other signs of fatigue. "you know your life shortens when you sleep less, and you already get little to no sleep."

rafayel pauses slightly at your words before chuckling softly. the purple haired lemurian wraps his arms around your body, pulling you closer into his embrace and closer to the eyes that have captivated you. he rests his forehead on yours, his warmth melting the coolness of the air around you as he encases you with nothing but the comfort of his body.

"there's nothing in the world that could take me from you, my beautiful love," rafayel whispers to you. he presses a simple, yet loving kiss to the top of your head before looking at you once more. there's a loving smile blooming on his rosy lips and an even more loving expression in his eyes as he affectionately brushes the skin of your cheek with his finger. "don't worry, for i'm yours to have. and i'm here resting with you now."

your lover's eyes show nothing but sincerity as he leans down to press the gentlest of kisses to you, your lips moving immediately to his act of love. despite the kiss being short, there was no hiding his deep adoration for you and the promise he'll keep of being by your side until the end of time. your hearts beat as one as the sound of the sea and the solace of each other's embrace quietly lulls the two of you back to sleep.

❀ SYLUS

dawn has not even broken through the horizon yet when you begin to stir from your sleep. even though exhaustion seeps through every single bone of your body, the quiet shuffling of clothes and the faint click of the door closing into place is enough to alert you that you’re no longer alone in the safety of your lover;s bedroom. although your eyesight is a blurred mess from waking up from your sleep, you know that whoever is in the room as of now is not a threat. if anything, you’re well aware of just who is in this room.

not that any person who poses as an actual threat to you would ever dare try to break into onychinus’ headquarters, let alone think about harming their leader’s one and only.

“good morning, kitten,” sylus’ voice is a calm whisper beside your ear, finger gently brushing away the hair that has fallen over your face. you can hear his deep chuckle, most likely at whatever expression you have in your half-asleep state, and shortly after his lips press against your forehead. “i didn’t mean to wake you up, dear. you should go back to sleep.”

your vision begins to clear as sleep is gradually blinked away from your eyes. your tall, silver haired lover is hovering above you with a soft smile; unbefitting of the leader of onychinus but absolutely expected as the one you hold closest to your heart. he looks haggard; eye bags heavy and dark underneath his beautiful ruby eyes. sylus must be exhausted having to work all through the night, but he tries to never show it in front of you even though you can always tell.

your hand reaches up to cup his jaw and, like a dragon obeying his beloved other half, obediently leans into your touch. the night must have been cool for his skin to be colder than your touch, or maybe it’s because you’ve been comfortably curled up in the thick duvet covering his bed. sylus sighs with closed eyes and only opens them once he’s satiated with your touch.

a calloused hand encases the hand over his jaw and ruby eyes stare directly into your own.

“i can’t. i have to get ready for work, anyways,” you murmur back to your lover. sylus frowns at your words. a finger gently pushes you forehead down when you try to sit up.

“and walk in with those eyebags? kitten, the organization would think you’re a wanderer if you walk in looking like that,” sylus quickly quips back at you. at his words, you send him a glare; of course, instead of being sweet to you in the morning and making sure you slept great your boyfriend decides to humble you. but… would he be sylus without a remark full of sass?

“stay in a while longer, it’s not like you’ll be reprimanded for coming in late this once,” sylus tells you with a playful smile. “besides, it’s not like you’re the only person coming in late all the time because they’re busy sleeping.” you roll your eyes at his dig at your coworker. your lover traces his finger across your cheek and behind your ear, his large hand sending your skin ablaze with every inch that he touches. but you find comfort in his touch and your body yearns for the comfort and safety of his arms.

“oh, alright. but go shower first, you smell like sweat and blood and i don’t want that to cling to me,” you give in with a heavy sigh. sylus chuckles at your request and leans down once more to kiss you; despite his rugged appearance, his lips are always soft to the touch. each movement against you is filled with so much passion and love, almost as if his body has been yearning for you for a thousand years. as you begin to pull away, you could feel sylus take a breath before eagerly chasing after you to kiss you again and again.

after being fully satiated with the kisses and love received from you, sylus pulls away, teeth gently pulling your bottom lip in a playful manner before letting go and leaving you behind to patiently wait for the return of his warm embrace until the sun begins to filter in through the dark curtains of his bedroom window.

❀ XAVIER

it is way past sunrise by the time you’ve gain consciousness in your own apartment. the morning light shines into your bedroom, the rays of pure sunshine peeking through the curtains of your bedroom window and filling the room with nothing but the warmth of the sun. the morning songbirds sing their songs through the sky and the bustling of the city in the distance is comforting in a way.

though, not as comforting as the weight of the body lying on top of yours. or rather, not as comforting and not as heavy. the sleeping hunter snoozing away on your chest is in a deep sleep; his breaths are quiet and even as his head rests comfortably on your chest. the golden rays of sun make his blond hair glisten and shine even brighter than he normally is. from the angle he’s at, you cannot see his face, but you’re assured that he’s peaceful in the comfort of your warmth. and your chest.

as much as you would like to stay in bed all morning, you know staying in longer than necessary would cause your body to be sluggish for the rest of the day. and so you begin to shuffle out of bed being careful not to awaken the slumbering prince on top of your body. however, your plan quickly fails as the lack of warmth underneath his body is enough to awaken him.

“mmm… morning,” xavier mumbles sleepily, his voice groggy with drowsiness dripping from his voice. the blond hunter mumbles something incoherent to you before he nuzzles his face into your chest then rests his chin on your body to look at you. his beautiful pale cerulean eyes are half lidded as he gazes up at you. in this light and in this moment, you have to admit how utterly cute and charming he looks. you’re tempted to close your eyes and go back to sleep with him, but you know your body will regret it in the long run.

“morning, sleepyhead,” you whisper to your lover. your hand comes up to brush away the blond strands cover his face. as if on instinct, xavier leans into your touch, leaning into it and remaining unmoved to bask in being in your palm. for a hunter who killed 70,000 wanderers, seeing him become so supple and obedient at your simple touch melts your heart. his blue eyes, akin to the sky, stare into your eyes, never wandering far from your face as the both of you begin to pull away from the intoxicating arms of sleep.

“don’t you want to sleep a bit more? you can; i’m just going to get ready for the day,” you murmur to xavier. your thumb rubs gently across your lover’s cheek, admiring how smooth his skin is despite his job as a hunter. he closes his eyes for a mere moment and takes in the feeling of your finger rubbing across his skin.

“as much as i love sleeping,” xavier begins, pressing his lips against your palm, “i’d rather spend our day off awake and with you.”

his eyes are twinkling as if stars were caught up in the vast sky that is his eyes and you feel your own heart skip a beat at the sincerity of his words as he smiles up at you. you sigh as your hand slowly slides up his cheek and-

“hey…!” your lover exclaims softly as your fingers gently squeeze his cheek, tugging his skin and shaking his head back and forth. your brows furrow as you shake him, annoyed at how cute he can be so early in the morning.

“that’s what you get for being so charming this morning,” you say as you pull your hands away. xavier looks up at you, eyes wide and his bottom lip jutting out just enough to get the perfect pout. but his little act doesn’t last for long as the blond hunter sits up and hovers over your body on the bed. his hands rest beside your head as he leans down so you’re eye to eye with him. there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he smiles down at you.

“then, starlight, do i get to punish you for being so cute, too?” xavier asks. pale blue eyes glance down at your lips, a signal that you know far too well.

your arms reach up to wrap around your lover’s neck, pulling him down as he eagerly leans forward to capture your own lips in his. his kiss is gentle, nothing short of loving and affectionate. but you could feel his eagerness for you, the heat rising with each movement of his lips on yours. your hands gently push against xavier’s chest before anything could go any further.

you almost laugh out loud seeing his pout as he obeys your wishes; his expression gives away all of his wants and needs to you and you can’t help but find him endearing. you reach up to lean up to quickly peck the corner of his lips, but your lover moves faster and, with a quick turn of his head, he’s kissing you again. the morning is warm and filled with sunshine as xavier showers you with affection he has been withholding this morning. but no sunlight could ever compare to the star holding you within his loving embrace.

❀ ZAYNE

the quiet buzzing and ruffling of the bedsheets is all you can hear before your body begins to rouse from your deep slumber. although your eyes haven’t completely opened yet, you recognize the blurry, dark blob beside you as his long arms reach over the nightstand to turn off the alarm. the comfort of his embrace is enough to lull you back to sleep, but you’re well aware that the warmth that you two share is fleeting as the day begins and the dreaded hours of work begin for the both of you.

unfortunately for you, the sun has yet to rise and the darkness is enough to truly drag you back into the depths of sleep, but you begin to truly wake up as zayne’s arms pull away from your body.

“mn…” you mumble as words try to form in your bedridden state. your arm drowsily reaches forward, clinging onto the body beside you and preventing him from immediately leaving your side.

you can hear his soft chuckle at your antics and a rough hand touching the side of your face; he’s cold to the touch, but you don’t mind it at all. it’s a beautiful contrast compared to the warmth hidden underneath the blankets you share. you pull zayne closer to you in hopes of enticing the poor heart surgeon into staying with you for just a bit longer; not that you don’t want him to go to work but because it’s just so comfortable being here with him. you hum in content feeling your lover’s stubble poking at your neck, an unusual feeling but one you welcome as it’s zayne’s body on your skin.

“good morning, beloved,” zayne whispers to you in a quiet voice. for being known as a cold and reserved doctor to others, he has shown you nothing but warmth and love as your boyfriend and you wouldn’t have it any other way. the calmness in which he speaks to you, his tone filled with nothing but adoration for you and only you makes your heart melt completely despite his evol being ice.

“you know i have to get ready for work, dear,” zayne murmurs softly as he begins to pull away, much to your despair. your hands reach for him again, but he’s far from your reach now. instead, hands covered in scars from his field of work encase one of your own and you can feel his lips press against the sensitive skin of your palm. his kiss is gentle despite the ticklish feeling of his stubble against your skin.

your eyes begin to open now, slowly focusing on the man above you. zayne has sat up now, olive green eyes looking down at you with nothing but sincere adoration and the longing to fall back into your arms and sleep for another hundred years. it’s not like he doesn’t yearn to be beside you, but duty calls and he cannot let more lives fall because of his hands.

“…i know,” you mumble back to him. zayne whispers an apology to you as you begin to sit up alongside him. rough hands intertwine with your own and you feel your body being slightly tugged towards him. his scent, clean with a hint of pine, nearly intoxicates you as you try to fight back the urge to wrap yourself around him and pull him down again.

“i love you,” you whisper to him. zayne’s breath hitches at your words and you can feel his forehead gently lean against your own.

“can i kiss you?” he asks you, his words a mere breath as if you’ll deny his request and shame him for his desire for your lips on his. you don’t have to say a word, a mere nod is enough and your lover leans forward to capture your lips with his. he’s gentle with you, kissing you with so much ardor yet so hesitantly as if you’ll break from his touch. before you could do anything else, zayne pulls away from your kiss. although he doesn’t return your words of affection to him, his actions and his kiss alone are enough of a reminder that he returns your sentiments the same amount, if not tenfold.

he loves you, and he wishes for the day he can say it back to you again and again and again.

“Oh, so he’s an academic type? I see. Smart is sexy.”

You subtly ball your hand into a fist under the table, trying your best to keep smiling.

“In that case, will you help me get his number?” she presses, eyes light up with hopeful.

“I have to ask him first,” you say flatly, silently begging Caleb to not fall for your classmate—the prettiest, sexiest, and practically top-of-the-class kind of girl.

Her smile only widens. “I’ll wait for good news tomorrow, then. See you, future sister-in-law,” she says with a playful wink.

That last part is enough to drag a frown onto your face as you stomp your way out of class, pouting the whole way.

It was 2 p.m. when Caleb stood beside your school gate, his presence alone drawing the attention of many female students who couldn’t take their eyes off him. He responded with only a polite smile, his gaze continuously scanning the crowd for someone familiar—the one he had been waiting for.

Then, finally, he saw you.

Your eyes immediately locked onto his as you walked toward him, a pout on your lips and sadness written all over your face. Without hesitation, you buried yourself in his embrace, and he gently ran his fingers through your hair.

"Hey, what’s with the long face, Pips? Aren’t you supposed to be happy to see me after school?" Caleb teased, though concern flickered in his voice.

You nuzzled deeper into his chest and mumbled, "I’m okay. I’m just tired.”

Caleb didn’t buy it. “You are lying.”

You sigh. “I hate math. I’m awful at it." The lie came smoothly through your lips.

"Mm? So, this is about failing at math? Did you have a math quiz today?" Caleb chuckled softly. "Don’t worry, Pip-squeak. You’ve always got your Caleb here."

He gently tilted your chin up, cupping your face with a reassuring smile.

"Let’s go home and wash up first, yeah? I made your favorite meal, and tonight, I’ll tutor you in math. You don’t need anyone else—just me."

You nodded. "That’ll do… but can we stop and get ice cream first?"

Caleb’s lips curved into a smirk. "Anything for you, Pip-squeak. But you only get to eat it after dinner. Okay?" And you nod.

After washing up, you change into your favorite pink sleepwear, it’s a light pink satin piece that feels cool and soft against your skin. Simple, with thin straps and a clean cut, it doesn’t do too much—but that’s exactly why you like it. It fits just right, not too tight, not too loose. It’s the kind of dress that make you feel comfortable, a little more put together, even when you are just getting ready to rest. The fabric slipping gently over your shoulders and exposing a hint of your collarbone. 

As you walk into the dining room, you see Caleb with his back to you, busy setting the dishes on the table.

"Do you need help?" you ask.

Hearing your voice, Caleb turns around—only to freeze in place. His eyes widen for a split second before he quickly looks away, his ears turning red.

"Ugh, no. It's fine, Pip-squeak. Everything’s ready—you can just sit." He clears his throat, hurrying into the kitchen and returning with two plates in his hands.

Taking a seat across from him, you notice how he avoids making eye contact.

"Are you okay? Your face is red. Do you have a fever?" You almost get up to check, but he quickly shakes his head.

"No, no. I'm fine. It’s just hot—I was standing over the stove, you know? No need to worry," he says, waving you off.

A short silence follows before Caleb suddenly blurts out, "You're wearing that sleep dress."

You smile. "It's comfortable. I need to feel cozy before drowning in math problems tonight." You take a bite of your food.

Caleb's expression is unreadable, but he shakes his head slightly before joining you in eating. The dinner goes smoothly, though their grandmother has informed them that she’ll be home late.

“Caleb?”

“Yes, Pip-squeak?”

“Are you interested in a romantic relationship?”

Caleb chokes on his food, eyes widening. You panic and quickly hand him a glass of water.

“What did you say?” he coughs, his gaze now locked onto yours. His heart hammers in his chest, and there’s a faint flush rising to his cheeks.

You stumble over your words before managing to explain, “One of my classmates is interested in you.” You pause, avoiding his eyes. “She asked if you're open to a romantic relationship right now… and asked for your number too.”

“Oh…”

There’s a subtle disappointment in his voice, or maybe you’re imagining things—but your chest tightens anyway.

Then Caleb lets out a low chuckle. “I’m not interested in pursuing a romantic relationship right now, Pip-squeak.”

“Does that mean… you will be later?”

“No,” he replies, shaking his head. “I don’t have the energy to care about other people when I already have Grandma and you. You do realize how high-maintenance you are, right?” he adds teasingly.

Your cheeks flush, both from embarrassment and the way your heart flips. You glare lightly but can’t hide the growing smile on your lips. “Does that mean you won’t get a girlfriend?”

He shakes his head again. “No.”

You take another bite, eyes cast down, but there’s a soft smile growing on your face. “Okay.”

A moment passes in silence.

“How about you?” he asks.

“What?”

“Will you have a boyfriend?”

You glance at him for a second before answering without hesitation. “No.”

“Why?”

You shrug. “Because I already have you.”

Neither of you says anything after that. The air feels heavier but still gentle. As if the both of you just made a silent confession neither of you are brave enough to say aloud.

So you eat in quiet.

After finishing the meal, you insist on helping Caleb with the dishes, though he is surprised with your willingness.

“You sure?” he asks, raising a brow.

“I just want to help,” you reply. “Besides, I’m mature now. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Caleb chuckles at that. “Mature, huh?”

“I will be 19 in a few months!”

“Alright, alright, big girl. You can have all the dishes.”

He lets you take over washing while he gathers the plates from the table. As he walks into the kitchen, he catches sight of you from behind, the way your dress hugs your figure. His throat goes dry. He quickly looks away, exhaling sharply.

Shit.

Shaking his head for what feels like the fourth time that day, he steps closer.

"You’re so slow," you grumble, rinsing a plate.

Caleb chuckles. "It's called being careful, you know?" He places the last plate under the sink, and in that moment, your hands brush. Your skin is so soft. He wonders how it would feel—

"Nyenyenye, you're just slow. Admit it." You mock him with a playful grin.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Pip-squeak." He ruffles your hair before turning away. "Finish up, then come to my room. I'll set up the study materials."

Caleb arranges his desk, making sure you’ll have everything you need. Minutes later, you enter, holding an ice cream in your hand before casually plopping down on his bed.

Caleb rolls his eyes. "Not there, Pip-squeak. You’ll stain my sheets."

You pout. "But there's only one chair. You can sit there—I’ll stay here."

Caleb crosses his arms. "You’re acting like you own my bed."

"Well, what's yours is mine, remember? You said so when we were kids."

He scoffs. "You're getting smarter with words, huh?"

You shrug. "You can have the chair."

Shaking his head, he sits down. "Finish your ice cream first. No distractions during the math lesson."

You nod, eating quickly. Once done, you walk over and—without any hesitation—settle yourself on his lap.

Caleb stiffens. "W-What—What are you doing?"

"There’s only one chair," you say innocently.

"I—I'll get another one from your room."

"No need, it's heavy. What’s the problem? I used to sit on your lap all the time when we were kids."

Caleb exhales sharply, gripping his own fist. Lying would be pointless anyway, part of him enjoys this, he loves feeling you so close.

"...Fine."

You shift slightly to get comfortable, but he suddenly grabs your wrist.

"D-Don't move," he says, voice tight.

You smirk silently. "Are you okay?" you ask, feigning innocence.

His grip tightens as his face turns redder.

"Don’t. Move," he repeats.

You turn around fo face him, your eyes lock onto his, the tension thick between you.

"You got something on your lips," he mutters.

"Oh? Can you wipe it for me?"

Caleb sighs before gently wiping your upper lip with his fingers. Without thinking, you lean in and lick his fingertip.

His breath hitches. His eyes darken, filled with something unreadable.

"Stop it," he murmurs. "Don't do this to me."

"Do what, Caleb?"

"Just—" He swallows hard before quickly turning you toward the desk. "Let's start with the first question. What’s confusing you?"

You blink, amused at his sudden shift. "I don't know which formula to use. It’s too hard." You’re answering randomly, knowing no one had a math quiz in school today.

He nods behind you, beginning to explain in the simplest way possible. Thirty minutes pass, and with only a little help, you start solving the problems on your own—which never truly becomes a trouble.

"Oh my gosh, so that’s how it works!" You grin excitedly. "I should've come to you earlier, before the quiz!" You turn and throw your arms around Caleb, hugging him tightly.

His body tenses. Your chest presses against his, and he can feel your warmth. Slowly—hesitantly—he wraps his arms around you, too.

"I knew I could rely on you," you whisper.

You pull back slightly, your gaze meeting his.

"Thank you, my Caleb." Your fingers brush his cheek.

His breath turns uneven. "L-Let's continue," he mumbles.

You don’t move. And he notices your gaze turns intense.

"Pip-squeak, please," he pleads. "This is torture."

"Yeah?"

"Please..."

"Please what, Caleb? Don’t you want to touch me?" You tilt your head, watching him squirm.

His fingers tighten around your waist. His gaze darkens.

"Be careful of what you say," he warns.

You shift slightly. "What if I don’t?"

“Stop this.”

“Your eyes can’t lie, you know? You really think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been staring at me all night?”

Caleb exhales sharply, his jaw tightening before he grabs your chin, tilting your face up so your eyes lock with his.

“I said stop.” His voice is low, strained, almost a warning.

“But I don’t want to.” Your fingers trail slowly from his chest down to his stomach, deliberately teasing.

He catches your hand in his, gripping it firmly as his gaze darkens with something unreadable—restraint, frustration, want.

“Stop before I lose it,” he growls, his voice trembling at the edge of control.

“Then lose it,” you whisper.

And then—without warning—his lips crash against yours.

A small gasp escapes you before you melt into the kiss. Caleb holds you firmly, his other hand slipping behind your head to deepen it. When he finally pulls away, his voice is low, almost threatening.

"Be careful before teasing me, Pip-squeak."

Then, he kisses you again.

You moaned and grip his hair tightly. 

“Caleb.. Please.”

Caleb murmured, lips continuing to trail down your neck and down to your chest. His finger slowly pulls the thin straps of your dress, allowing it to expose your tits. 

“You are so sweet.” He said before he leaves mark on top of your chest.

Your breath grows heavier, chest rising and falling as an unfamiliar heat pools between your thighs.

"Caleb, please," you whimper, voice trembling with need. "Touch me there, please, please."

Upon hearing that, it was like a jolt of lightning struck him—he snapped his head up and looked at you with his jaw tensed ever so slightly, like he was holding back a wave of emotion.

“Pip-squeak, we can’t do this.”

“Why?” You demanded.

He brushed your hair. “Let’s just continue our study, yeah?”

“So, you would rather if I did it with someone else?” You challenge him, ignoring his question like he did.

He pulls you close and hugs you tight. “Please don’t say that.”

“So you are okay if I kiss another boy and let him touch me—AH!” You can’t even finish your sentence when you feel the stinging sensation after Caleb left you another bite mark on your neck.

Seconds later, you feel how Caleb pulls back and crashes his lips on yours, he doesn’t give you any time to catch a breath when he explores your mouth.

You whimper, fingers gripping his hair as he deepens the kiss. “Please... Caleb.”

Caleb pulls back slightly, his dark eyes scanning your flushed face with amusement. A smirk tugs at his lips as he casually licks the remnants of both your saliva from his mouth.

"Please what, Pip-squeak?" His voice is a low, teasing drawl. "Can you elaborate?"

You look at him—helpless, pleading, desperate. "Please. You know what I want."

"No, I don’t."

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, frustration bubbling inside you. "Please… I need you. Inside me."

“Please… say you won’t regret this,” Caleb murmurs, his voice low, almost pleading—like a final thread of restraint holding him back.

“I won’t,” you whisper, eyes locked with his. “Never.”

Caleb’s lips brush against your neck again, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His hand slowly trails beneath your dress, fingertips grazing your inner thigh, making you twitch in anticipation.

"Here?" he murmurs.

You shake your head, almost frantically. "No, no. Please, Caleb. I need you there. Please."

"Where?" His voice drips with amusement, reveling in the way you fall apart beneath his touch.

"Haa… ha… Please..."

"Say it."

"There, there!" you cry out, eyes squeezing shut in desperation. "Inside my pussy, please, please, I need to feel you."

Caleb chuckles, low and sinful, as his fingers finally reach their destination. He circles your swollen pussy in slow, deliberate strokes.

"Here?" His voice is a whisper against your skin. "You're so wet for me..."

"Yes, yes, for you. Please, Caleb."

His touch suddenly stills. His dark gaze flickers with something possessive, something dangerous. "I don’t remember ever teaching you this," he muses, voice edged with curiosity. "Who taught you, huh? Be honest, any guy ever touched you like this before?"

A desperate moan escapes your lips at the sudden loss of contact. Your body aches for him, throbbing, needing. You shake your head wildly, eyes wide with panic. "No, no! No one’s ever touched me here, Caleb. You’re the first—I only want you."

"Yeah?" His voice drops an octave, rough and unreadable.

"Yes, yes," you nod frantically, fingers gripping his arms as if trying to tether yourself to reality. "I only watched or read when my friends talked about it. I never… I never touched anyone."

"Is that so?"

You swallow hard, your frustration mounting. "Yes, so please, Caleb. I only want you."

A smirk plays on his lips before he slides two fingers inside you, stretching you slightly. A gasp rips from your throat, your head falling backward as pleasure overtakes you.

"Like this?"

"Yes... yes... ugh, please, Caleb."

"What do you want me to do?" he asks, his voice silky smooth yet laced with command.

"I want you to make me feel good, Caleb," you breathe out, voice barely above a whisper.

"You want that? How much?"

"More than anything."

That’s all he needs to hear. His fingers begin moving, slow yet precise, curling inside you as his lips capture yours, devouring you whole. 

Your moans fill the room—needy, breathless, uncontrolled. Your dress is in complete disarray. His lips slowly trail down, your dress falls into your waist, Caleb sucks your tits and squeezes the other one, giving you an overwhelming sensation you’ve never felt before. 

A louder moan escapes you.

"Ugh, this feels so good. Caleb, ah..."

Caleb smiles against your skin, his tongue circling your hardened tits before he sucks, hard. Your back arches in response, hands flying to grip his hair, fingers tangling in his soft strands.

And then—his fingers slow down, teasing, denying. Your body twitches, frustration building. You were so close.

His dark eyes meet yours, gleaming with amusement. "You were close, weren’t you?"

"Caleb," you whine, voice bordering on a sob.

"You remember our agenda for tonight, right?" he whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "You have to study, not moan my name like a needy little thing."

Before you can protest, he gently turns you around, positioning you in front of the desk again.

"Do questions fifteen to seventeen," he orders, his tone commanding yet filled with sinful promise. "If you get them right, I’ll let you come. Hard."

"No, no," you shake your head, voice trembling with desperation. "Please, not now, Caleb. I beg you."

"No, baby," he coos mockingly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "Do the questions. Do it for me, hmm?"

Your breath is ragged, hands trembling as you pick up your pen. Caleb’s fingers remain inside you, moving at an agonizingly slow pace—just enough to keep you on edge but never enough to satisfy. The other one keeps brushing your tits as his lips are now kissing your back neck.

Still, you try to focus.

Yet you fail. Miserably.

"Caleb, at least let me concentrate," you whimper, body squirming under his touch.

"But you wanted me to please you," he reminds you, feigning innocence.

You gulp, knowing deep down you’ve already lost this battle.

Moans and cries spill from your lips as Caleb plays your body like an instrument, drawing pleasure from every inch of you. Your fingers dig into your pen, knuckles turning white, trying to hold on to some sense of focus, even as your body trembles beneath his touch. He gives you no pause, no chance to recover, overwhelming every sense at once.

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, blurring the words in your book as you desperately try to read through the haze of desire.

“You’re so sweet, my little sunny apple,” Caleb whispers, lips curling against your shoulder before he sucks gently, leaving behind a mark you’ll wear like a secret.

It takes almost thirty minutes—thirty agonizing minutes—to solve the questions while Caleb continues his sweet torment. His lips trace along your shoulder, his teeth nipping at your skin, his fingers teasing and exploring, never once relenting.

"I—I’m done," you finally stammer out, voice barely coherent.

"My good girl, very smart," Caleb praises, skimming your answers with a pleased hum. His fingers start moving again—faster, more precise—his pace sending you into a spiral.

Your head tilts back, body trembling. "Yes, yes, yes. Just like that."

"Smart girls get rewards," he whispers, his lips ghosting over your skin as his movements quicken.

Your moans grow louder, uncontrolled, desperate. The heat inside you builds and builds until you can no longer hold it back.

"I—I’m close," you pant, fingers gripping Caleb’s knee.

"Come for me, baby."

And with that, the pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, leaving you trembling, breathless, and undone.

Caleb watches you with a satisfied smirk, his free hand gently cupping your flushed cheek. "Feel good?"

You nod weakly, still struggling to catch your breath.

Turning to face him, you watch as he brings his glistening fingers to his lips, slipping them into his mouth. Your eyes widen.

"You taste so good," he murmurs, eyes locked onto yours.

"Caleb!" you gasp, face burning. "That’s… that’s dirty!"

"Nothing that comes from you is dirty, baby," he chuckles, leaning in to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You moan against his lips, fingers tracing the lines of his chest before slipping into his pants. He groans at your touch, his grip on you tightening.

But just as you think he’ll give in, he suddenly grabs your wrist and lifts you into his arms with ease.

"No, baby," he murmurs against your lips, smirking as he watches the frustration cloud your expression. "We’re not going any further than this. You still have to study."

"I can study and moan your name at the same time," you tease, grinning as you squeeze his hardened length.

Caleb lets out a sharp breath. "Shit."

And then, without warning, he tosses you onto the bed.

"I never taught you this, Pip-squeak," Caleb murmurs, his lips trailing soft kisses down your neck, leaving warmth in their wake.

"Caleb..."

"What do you truly want, hm?"

"I want you, Caleb."

He smirks. "You already have me, baby."

"Please... take off your clothes." You reach for his shirt, fingers trembling with impatience.

Caleb exhales a quiet chuckle. "Grandma could be home anytime soon."

"She won’t know."

His eyes darken with amusement. "You’re naughty." Still, he tugs off his shirt, revealing the toned muscles beneath, his body hovering over yours.

His expression shifts into something softer yet intense. "Are you sure you want this?"

You nod, pulling him closer. "I’ve always wanted this with you."

Caleb pants slightly, his breath warm against your skin. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then down to your eyes, nose, and finally, your lips—capturing them in a slow, lingering kiss, deepening as his hand cradles your face.

"Please, Caleb... put it in already. I want to feel you."

Caleb chuckles, his lips brushing against yours. "Not so fast, baby. You distracted yourself from learning math. Shouldn’t I test you before rewarding you?"

Your stomach drops. "You want me to do math questions again?"

"No." His smirk grows as he teases you, his tip barely pressing against your entrance, sending a shiver up your spine. "I want you to explain what I just taught you. Can you do that for me, hm?"

You gulp.

You shouldn’t have challenged him.

You shouldn’t have distracted him when he was kind enough to tutor you.

But do you regret it?

Not at all.

"Explain it to me, baby," he urges, voice low and husky.

Your breath is ragged as you struggle to recall everything he taught you, but Caleb isn’t making it easy. His lips roam lower, his fingers dancing over your sensitive spots, and his length brushes teasingly against your entrance, making you gasp.

“C’mon, baby,” Caleb murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “You want your reward, right? Be a good girl for me.”

His lips begin a slow, sinful journey—pressing soft kisses from your breast, trailing down your stomach, until he finally settles between your legs. A shaky moan escapes you as he licks a stripe up your folds, his tongue skillfully circling your clit before dipping into your entrance.

You grip his hair tightly, gasping as your hips instinctively buck into his face. The pleasure builds quickly, maddeningly, making it almost impossible to focus.

“Fuck, Caleb!” you curse breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth moves with practiced precision.

“Ssshh... good girls don’t curse,” he chides with a smug grin, his voice gravelly against your skin. His tongue thrusts deeper, savoring every part of you, and just when you feel the coil of pleasure about to snap—he stops.

Your head falls back in frustration, a broken whimper falling from your lips. “I hate you, Caleb.” You breathe, gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles go white.

He chuckles darkly. “C’mon, baby. You want to come? Then finish your words.”

Tears sting your eyes—not from sadness, but from sheer, overwhelming frustration. You grind against his mouth, desperate and trembling.

“A-And lastly…” you pant. “Derivatives tell us how fast something is changing. S-So, if a function describes position, its derivative gives… velocity. If you take the derivative of velocity… hah… you get acceleration.”

Caleb watches you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, pride shimmering in his darkened gaze. “Good girl,” he whispers against your lips. “Now… are you ready to claim your reward?”

“Yes… yes, yes, please! Caleb—”

He hovers above you, his weight pressing down just enough to feel comforting, protective. His thumb brushes your cheek tenderly as he searches your eyes. “This might hurt,” he murmurs. “But you trust me, right?”

You nod without hesitation, eyes wide and honest. “I trust you, Caleb.”

A soft smile graces his lips as he positions himself in front of your entrance, slowly pushes inside, sealing your gasp with a deep, loving kiss.

A moan escapes you as he fills you inch by inch, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “Ooh… you’re so—so big,” you whimper, overwhelmed by the stretch and the sensation of being completely full.

“Is it in?” you ask, voice trembling.

He kisses your forehead with reverence and presses in deeper. “Patience, baby. We’re only halfway.”

You let out a loud gasp. Holy shit.

You tighten your legs around him, pulling him closer, your body arching to meet his.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks when finally all the way in, worry clouding his voice.

“N-No… but I need a moment.” You breathe, your voice small.

He nods and leans in to press a soft kiss against your cheek, staying perfectly still as you try to adjust around him. Caleb gently brushes your hair away from your face, his fingertips tender as they move through your strands, quietly grounding you, silently reassuring you.

“Take your time, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and careful, like he’s afraid to break the moment.

The intimacy of it nearly shatters you. It’s too tender, too overwhelming, how much he cares, how much he’s holding back for your sake. You feel your chest tighten, tears pricking your eyes, not from pain but from how deeply you feel seen, touched, and loved.

Finally, you whisper, “You can move now.”

He starts slow, his thrusts deep and deliberate, as if trying to memorize the feel of you. His groans are low and raw, vibrating against your skin.

"Oh—oh, that feels so good," you whimper, hands trembling on his back. "Caleb, f-faster."

“Not yet,” he murmurs, kissing your jaw, your collarbone, your shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not,” you plead. “Please… let me feel everything—AH!”

He growls softly and finally picks up the pace, his hips slamming into you with controlled power. Your body arches off the bed as the pressure builds, every nerve ending lit on fire.

"Right there! Please, Caleb—" you sob, tears streaking down your cheeks, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

His mouth finds your breast again, tongue flicking over your nipple while his hands grip your ass tighter, pulling you into each thrust. The room echoes with the sound of your bodies colliding, your breathy moans, and his grunts of pleasure.

Caleb pulls back slightly before thrusting even deeper, forcing a high-pitched moan from your throat as stars dance behind your eyes.

He groans, thrusting harder, chasing the high with you. "Baby, I’m close. Can I come inside?"

"Y-Yes! Please, I’m close too!"

"Come for me, baby."

With one final thrust, you unravel beneath him, pleasure crashing over you in overwhelming waves. Caleb follows moments later, groaning your name as he buries himself deep inside. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him as close as possible, you don’t want a single drop of him to go to waste.

“My good girl, taking me so well.”

He doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his body still intertwined with yours as you both catch your breath.

Then—the sound of the front door opening.

Caleb tenses, but before he can move, you grab his arm.

"I locked your room’s door," you mumble, voice hazy with exhaustion.

He exhales a quiet laugh. "You’re impossible."

Another door creaks open and closes. Grandma must already home and choose to have gone straight to her room.

Caleb gently shifts you so you're lying on top of him, and you immediately nuzzle into his chest, seeking the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

"I want to sleep here," you whisper, snuggling closer.

Caleb shakes his head, amused. "You’re so spoiled today."

You yawn, pressing your face against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"Pip-squeak, at least let me clean you."

"You can do it later. I just want to hug you, now."

Caleb sighs in playful exasperation but tightens his arms around you anyway. "I hope that little head of yours still remembers everything I taught you tonight."

A sleepy smirk tugs at your lips. "You know what? I’m good at multitasking, you know. That includes learning math... and having you inside me. Nothing can distract me."

“When will you have another math quiz?” he asked, and you tilted your head to face him.

“Actually… I never had a math quiz.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been lying this whole time?”

You giggle, fingers lazily tracing the lines on his bare chest. “I thought you knew,” you pause, then glance up at him with a mischievous grin. “Caleb?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Are you tired yet? Can we do it again?”

Caleb lets out a groan. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Pip-squeak.”

But they did it again anyway with Caleb’s hand pressed over your mouth to keep you from getting too loud.

And this time, there were no distractions from math.

Ⓒ 2025 by charmaizne

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You wake up to find yourself gasping for air, your body drenched in a cold sweat that clings to your skin like a ghostly embrace. The familiar sting of tears on your cheeks is a cruel reminder that even in sleep, you can't escape the pain. Your throat burns, raw and aching, as if the screams that echoed in your nightmare have torn their way into reality, leaving behind a hollow echo of your anguish.

The dream, always the same, replays in your mind with merciless clarity. Caleb, your anchor, your everything, ripped away from you in a moment of helpless terror. You can still see his face, hear his voice calling out to you as the darkness swallows him whole. And all you can do is scream, your voice breaking as you reach out, your fingers grasping at empty air.

With a shuddering breath, you sink back into the pillows, their softness a poor substitute for the warmth you yearn for. The ceiling above becomes a blank canvas for your memories, each crack and shadow a chapter in the story of the last six months without him. The nightmares have been your constant, unwelcome companion ever since that fateful day in Bloomshore district. As you reminisce, painful moments and flashbacks resurface from the last 6 months:

The explosion that tore through the area didn’t just shatter buildings; it shattered your world, leaving you adrift in a sea of grief and regret. Even as insomnia clawed at your mind and you worked yourself to exhaustion, desperately trying to outrun your thoughts, sleep offered no respite. Every stolen moment of rest, every brief nap, became a battlefield where the same horrific scenes played out, leaving you more traumatized with each awakening.

You lasted 3 weeks before the Association mandated therapy. The therapist’s diagnosis of PTSD came as no surprise, but it did nothing to ease the hollowness inside you. You fought tooth and nail to keep working, knowing that if you stopped, if you allowed yourself to be alone with your thoughts, the fragile threads of your sanity might finally snap.

So you slammed the door on your guilt – survivor’s guilt, they called it, as if there were any survivors in the crater he left in your chest. You functioned. You compartmentalized. But there were days when the facade crumbled, when the weight became too much to bear. On those days, you found yourself at Caleb’s grave, the only place where you felt you could truly breathe. “Idiot,” you’d choke into the earth, dirt biting your palms as if digging could reach him. “You promised.” Promised to always be there – your tutor when equations made you cry, your shield when the world turned cruel, your conspiratorial grin during midnight fridge raids.

Caleb was always more than just an adopted brother figure. He was your protector, your confidant, your rock. You were his princess, and he spoiled you rotten. His stupid hero complex, those stray maple syrup stains on his hoodies, the way his laughter crinkled the tiny scar by his left eyebrow. But also the boy who’d linger a heartbeat too long when fixing your scarf, whose smoldering glances during movie nights made your pulse stutter. The unspoken thing that hung between you like live wires – would he have done more than kiss you that one summer if you both hadn’t panicked and started cracking jokes about something trivial? You’ll never know now. Because you both had been cowards, preserving the fragile equilibrium of his headlocks and stolen hoodies, and texts that always ended with “Don’t stay up late, Pip-squeak.”

This line between your relationship had remained uncrossed, not because of what others might think, but because of the paralyzing fear of what lay on the other side. The thought of losing him, of things changing irrevocably if a romantic relationship went wrong, was too terrifying to contemplate, especially with someone who grew up with you. He was too precious, too beloved to risk losing over romantic feelings, so you kept things playful and platonic, shoving any deeper emotions deep down where they couldn’t threaten what you had.

You’d found yourself at his graveside on a particularly difficult day, your heart heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled promises. The cemetery grass bit cold through your jeans as you crumbled before his headstone, autumn leaves skittering across granite like memories refusing to stay buried. Your knuckles whitened around the wilted sunflowers in your lap - his favorite, always bought from that vendor by the train station he’d pass on his way back from Skyhaven.

“You…” The word comes out brittle, choking on summer heat and pancake breakfasts and all the words you swallowed. “You knew. You had to.” Your thumbnail digging into the stem until green stained your skin. “The way you’d… thaw frozen pizza at 3AM because I forgot to eat. Pretend to ‘accidentally’ buy my favorite mango ice cream every goddamn week.” A wet laugh escapes, sharp as the shrapnel that took him. “Always… always catching me before I fell.”

The headstone had stayed silent. It mocked you.

Your palm slammed against the earth, gravel embedding in flesh. “Damn you, Caleb. Damn you for making love feel like breathing.” Your voice had splintered, each syllable a confession pried from your ribs. “Those nights… when you’d carry me home after exams… your heartbeat against my cheek? I wanted to live there. In your stupid flannel scent and the rumble of your voice…”

Wind whipped through the trees, scattering goldenrod pollen like the ashes you never got to bury. When you finally whispered it – “I loved you” – the words dissolved into the twilight, unheard. Unanswered.

You hadn’t noticed the blood on your palm until it smeared across his engraved name. “You’re gone, and it feels like you took a part of me with you. How am I supposed to keep going without my ray of sunshine? Everything’s so… colorless now.”

Your body shook with sobs as you whispered, “I see it every night in my dreams. You being taken away from me. Over and over.”

You pressed your forehead to the stone, imagining the warmth that once greeted your tears. “Should’ve burned with you,” you rasp to the worms beneath the soil. “At least then… I’d know where to find your hands in the dark.”

Time blurred as you sat there, lost in a haze of grief and regret, until darkness fell. They’d found you hours later – some faceless groundskeeper clearing their throat at the edge of your grief. You rose on numb legs, leaving the sunflowers askew. Let them think you’re mad. Let them stare.

The walk home was a blur of streetlights and phantom laughter. Your apartment swallowed you whole – his faded jacket still draped on the couch, the last Tupperware of his braised chicken wings fossilizing in the fridge. You hadn’t bothered with the lights.

As you sunk into bed that night, the ghosts descended too, his voice in your ear, “Pip-squeak…”. The nightmare came as always. But this time, when the flames took him, you stepped into the inferno.

The memory of that day alone draws fresh tears to your eyes as you lie there, watching shadows dance across the ceiling. Outside, thunder rolls and rain begins to tap against your window, nature’s own symphony of melancholy matching your mood. Those agonizing six months of grief feel like a lifetime ago now, especially since Caleb’s miraculous return – not quite as the same person you lost.

Now he’s Colonel Caleb of Farspace Fleet, a title that carries the weight of untold horrors and survival. The explosion that should have killed him was just the beginning of his transformation. The Toring chip in his body, the bionic arm that registers nothing but searing pain – evidence of modifications you can barely bring yourself to think about. Sometimes, when he thinks no one’s watching, you catch glimpses of the toll it’s taken on him.

He still looks at you with that same adoration, still calls you “pip-squeak” with that familiar warmth, but there’s a shadow behind his eyes now. A darkness that speaks of secrets and burdens he won’t share. Whatever Ever and the Farspace Fleet are forcing on him has turned your open book into a locked vault, and it breaks your heart to see him struggling under the weight of it all. There’s a new distance in his eyes, secrets building walls between you that never existed before.

Yet when he laughs – really laughs – it’s still there. Beneath the secrets and the new hardened exterior, you can still feel it – the genuine love and warmth that is uniquely Caleb. After experiencing the soul-crushing void of believing him dead, you’d take him back a thousand times over, complications and all. Nothing could be worse than the hollow emptiness of living in a world without him.

Of course, that didn’t stop you from giving him a piece of your mind that day after he’d revealed himself and personally interrogated you. The moment you’d stepped into his Skyhaven residence, your heart had thundered with a tempest of emotions. There he stood, a ghost made flesh, the very embodiment of your deepest longings and most bitter regrets.

How dare he? How dare he return from the grave and not breathe a word to you? Yet, even as you’d hurled your grievances at him, a traitorous warmth bloomed in your chest. He was here. Alive. Breathing. Changed but still here, and that’s more than you dared hope for during those dark months of grief.

The thought of losing him again coils like barbed wire around your chest, but you breathe through it. This time will be different. You’ve clawed your way back from the abyss of grief once – you won’t let fear sabotage the fragile second chance you’ve been granted. Caleb may wear the title of Colonel like armor now, his laughter tinged with shadows, but beneath it all, he’s still yours. The boy who carried your secrets, your joys, and your tears long before Farspace Fleet carved its demands into his bones.

Rebuilding trust has been slow, like stitching together shattered glass. His return has eased the nightmares, but they haven't vanished completely. Learning about his bionic arm only sparked new fears, the way pain flickers in his eyes when he thinks you aren’t looking. It has manifested fresh anxieties about losing him again in an instant. You’ve gotten adept at concealing your own scars, though. He doesn’t know about the nights you still wake gasping, your pillow damp with tears, your graveside confessions, or how your heart aches every time you catch his carefree smile or when he cracks a joke too sharp to feel genuine.

Refusing to dwell in darkness any longer, you reach for your phone and dial his number with trembling hands. He answers instantly, his voice rough as if he’d been waiting. “Hey, princess,” he murmures, and you can almost see him leaning against the window of his Skyhaven quarters, that half-smile playing on his lips. You swallow the urge to spill everything–the nightmares, the grave visits, the way your heart fractures every time he clenches his hand to stop himself from reaching for you.

Instead, you laugh weakly. “Just… one of those nights. Had a stupid dream about reliving the same awful day on loop. You know, like that old sci-fi trope?”

He hums, soft and low. “Sounds lonely. Let’s rewrite it. Maybe tomorrow’s the day you finally beat the final boss. Or… find a cheat code.” His voice dips, hesitant. “…Or get rescued by a dashing colonel with terrible comedic timing.”

You huff a watery laugh, curling into the sheets. But the banter can’t mask the tension crackling beneath. When he speaks again, his tone shifts, raw and stripped bare. “If I’m not… the same. If I’m worse now–would you still…?”

The question hangs like a blade. Yes, you want to scream. You’re still the boy who made me feel safe. Still the man I’d cross galaxies for. How grateful I am just to have you breathing and alive, how past and present versions mean nothing compared to the simple fact of your existence. But old habits claw at your throat, so you force lightness into your reply. “You’ve always been a disaster, Caleb. Some metal parts and secrets won’t change that.”

A beat of silence. Then his chuckle rumbles through the speaker, warmer now. “Fair.”

The conversation lingers, charged with everything unsaid–the Lantern Fest festivities, where he’d brushed his thumb over your wrist, the way you’d both frozen when your fingers tangled while reaching for the same decorations while building your lantern, the way you had sat in his almost-embrace as you both made New Year’s wishes on the paper boats floating in the lake. But you’re done with almosts and maybes. Before he can retreat behind another joke, you blurt it out: “Take me to the amusement park. Tomorrow. Like we used to.”

A pause. “The one with the rickety Ferris wheel?”

“The one where you swore you’d beat me at ring toss and failed. Twice.”

His laughter wraps around you like sunlight. “You’re on pip-squeak.”

The call ends with Caleb’s laughter still tingling in your ears, but you press the phone to your chest a moment longer, as if you could trap the warmth of his voice there. A smile tugs at your lips, bittersweet and hopeful. Caleb has no idea what you’ve set in motion, the carefully laid plans waiting to unfold.

He still believes you’ve forgotten – those three precious days when amnesia stripped away his defenses, and you both teetered on the edge of something more. The memory of it burns bright in your mind: that train ride through the amusement park, the world blurring into streaks of color and light as his breath ghosted across your skin. His voice, rough with want, whispering “I like you” against your ear. You’d been so close, leaning in, hearts thundering in unison–

And then pain had lanced through your arm, white-hot and searing. The chip, that cursed piece of tech, had nearly ruined everything. Your fingers drift to your forearm, tracing the faint scar – a reminder of your desperate, delirious attempt to feel closer to him, to share his pain, and understand why he behaves the way he does now. The agony of its removal paled in comparison to the ache in your chest as you realized he believed the process had erased your memories of those precious days. You’d played along, letting him think the confession, the almost-kiss, had vanished with the tech. It was easier than admitting how close you’d come to shattering the careful dance you’d maintained for years.

But fate, it seems, has granted you a second chance. Tomorrow, you’ll recreate and complete that almost confession. And when his eyes widen with the realization that you remember, that you’ve always remembered, you’ll let the truth spill from your lips like a long-held breath, “I never forgot. Not a single second.”

And in that moment, suspended between what was and what could be, you’ll finally close the distance that’s haunted you both for so long.

As sleep finally claims you, your dreams are filled not with explosions and loss, but with the warmth of Caleb’s smile and the sweet anticipation of confessions long overdue. Tomorrow, you’ll rewrite your story. This time, there will be no chips, no hesitation, no misunderstandings to tear you apart. Because losing him once was agony – but losing him again, without ever having truly had him, is a fate you refuse to accept.