#caleb l&ds

The dim neon glow of the adult arcade flickered through the grimy windows as Colonel Caleb Xia pulled his cap low over his brow, slipping into the shadows of the back alley entrance. With a chest full of medals and a face that graced Farspace Fleet briefings on national TV, he couldn't afford scandals. But the weight of command, the endless strategy sessions, the lives hanging on his decisions, had left him frayed, his body humming with unspent tension. Tonight, he needed release, anonymous and raw, no strings, no faces.

He'd heard about this place from a discreet whisper in the officers' club, a seedy spot where men like him could vanish into the night. The gloryhole booth was tucked in the far corner, a narrow stall with a hole carved at waist height, shrouded in anonymity. Caleb locked the door behind him, heart pounding as he unzipped his jeans, his thick cock already half-hard from anticipation. He fed a few bills into the slot, and the partition hummed to life.

On the other side, you waited, knees on the padded floor, the thrill of the unknown sending a shiver down your spine. You'd come here for the rush, the power of being desired without the mess of expectations. The hole revealed a glimpse of tanned skin and a hardening shaft– impressive, veined, and throbbing with need. You licked your lips, leaning in to tease the tip with your tongue, swirling slow circles around the head.

Caleb groaned, low and guttural, his hands bracing against the wall. "Fuck," he muttered, voice rough from years of barking orders. Your mouth was warm, eager, sucking him in deeper with each bob of your head. He thrust gently at first, testing the waters, but the sensation built like a storm– your lips stretching around his girth, tongue flicking the underside. He was bigger than most, filling your throat as you relaxed, taking him to the hilt.

He couldn't see you, but he imagined– soft curves, hungry eyes. "That's it, take it all," he rasped, hips bucking harder. The anonymity fueled him; no repercussions, just pure, filthy pleasure. But as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking with expert pressure, he felt the edge approaching too soon. He pulled back slightly, breathing heavy, but you chased him, your hand wrapping around the base through the hole, stroking in tandem with your mouth.

"Goddamn, you're good," he growled, his control slipping. The stress melted away with each wet slurp, replaced by a fire that demanded more. He came hard, spilling down your throat in hot pulses, your swallowing milking every drop. But as he softened slightly, the ache didn't fade– it intensified. He was still hard, still needy. He slapped the partition. "Don't stop," he demanded, voice edged with command. "I need more."

You smiled around him, licking his tip clean, aroused by his desperation. Wiping your mouth, you stood, turning to press your ass against the hole, hiking up your poor excuse for a skirt. No panties– just slick, bare pussy, dripping from the taste of him. You guided his cock to your entrance, sinking back slowly, a moan escaping as he stretched you wide.

Caleb's eyes widened in the dim light. "Holy shit," he breathed, gripping the edges of the partition. You were tight, hot, clenching around him like a vice. He thrust forward, burying himself deep, the angle perfect for hitting that spot inside you. The booth shook with his rhythm, skin slapping against the wall as he fucked you relentlessly. Your hand slipped between your legs, circling your clit, chasing your own peak.

"You're so fucking wet," he panted, pace callous. "Take it, all of it." Sweat beaded on his forehead, his military-honed body driving into you with precision. He couldn't get enough– the way you pushed back, grinding, your muffled cries spurring him on. The risk, the rawness– it was intoxicating.

You came first, walls fluttering around him, soaking his cock as waves crashed over you. Caleb followed seconds later, groaning as he filled you, hips jerking erratically. But even as he pulled out, spent and slick, his body hummed for more. He leaned against the wall, catching his breath, knowing he'd be back– already craving the stranger who matched his fire.

The days blurred into a haze of briefings and bullshit for Colonel Caleb Xia. That night at the gloryhole had been a spark in the dark– anonymous, filthy, and exactly what he'd needed to cut through the tension coiled in his gut like barbed wire. But it hadn't been enough. Not by a long shot. The memory of your tight, dripping pussy clenching around his cock haunted him during staff meetings, making him shift in his seat, his dick twitching at the phantom sensation. He craved more– the risk, the raw hunger, the way you'd taken him without a word, just bodies slamming together through that thin wall.

Two nights later, he was back. He didn't even change from his regalia, yet he still slipped into the arcade like a ghost. The booth called to him, and he locked himself in, feeding bills into the machine with shaking hands. His cock was already straining against his zipper, thick and heavy, veins pulsing with anticipation. He unbuckled swiftly and freed it, stroking slowly, waiting for the signal.

On your side, the thrill hadn't faded either. You'd replayed it in your mind countless times. The gruff voice barking commands, the girth that stretched you to your limits, the hot flood of his cum filling you up, were all ample fuel for your own self explorations.

Tonight, you were ready, dressed in nothing but a short robe that you shrugged off as soon as the partition activated. Kneeling, you peered through the hole, heart racing at the sight of him: rock-hard, pre-cum beading at the tip. You didn't hesitate when it pushed through the opening, wrapping your lips around the head and sucking hard, tongue lashing the slit to taste his saltiness.

"Fuck yes," Caleb growled, his hips jerking forward. "Suck it like you mean it." Your mouth was a vacuum, cheeks hollowing as you took him deeper, gagging slightly when he hit the back of your throat. Drool spilled down your chin, mixing with his pre-cum, as you bobbed faster, one hand cupping his balls through the hole, rolling them gently while the other stroked what wouldn't fit. He was massive, forcing your jaw wide, but the ache only made you wetter, your thighs slick already with arousal.

He thrust into your mouth, fucking your face with military precision. Cock sliding in deep, relentless strokes that made your eyes water. "Choke on it," he rasped, voice thick with lust. "Take every inch." You did, relaxing your throat until your nose pressed against the wall, his pubes tickling through the gap. The booth reeked of sex, the wet gluck-gluck of your sucking echoing obscenely. He came with a muffled roar, flooding your mouth, cum spilling from the corners as you swallowed greedily, milking him dry.

But he didn't soften. "Not done," he panted, pulling out only to slap his still-hard cock against the hole. "Turn around. I want that sweet pussy again."

You stood, legs shaky, and backed up to the hole, spreading your cheeks to expose your soaked folds. "Fuck me," you whispered, the first words you'd spoken, voice husky and needy.

Caleb didn't need asking twice. He lined up and slammed in, burying himself balls-deep in one severe thrust. You cried out, the stretch burning deliciously, your walls fluttering around his invading girth. "Tight as fuck," he grunted, pulling back to ram in again, the partition rattling with the force. His hands gripped the edges, knuckles white, as he set a punishing pace of long, hard strokes that bottomed out, his balls slapping against the rim of the hole.

You braced against your wall, one hand reaching back to spread yourself wider, the other diving between your legs to rub your swollen clit. "Harder, Colonel," you moaned, guessing his rank from the authoritative bark in his voice and the jingle of what you thought were a chestful of medals. "Ruin me."

The title sent a jolt through him– fuck, she knew? But the anonymity held, and it only fueled his fire. "You asked for it," he snarled, pounding into you like a machine, hips snapping with enough force to bruise. Your juices squelched with each thrust, dripping down your thighs, the lewd sounds mixing with your whimpers and his grunts. He angled up, hitting your G-spot relentlessly, making stars burst behind your eyelids.

"God, you're soaking my cock," he groaned. "Cum for me– squeeze that pussy." You did, shattering around him, your orgasm ripping through you like wildfire. Walls clamping down, you screamed, body convulsing as waves of pleasure drowned you. Caleb kept fucking through it, prolonging your high, his own building fast.

But he wasn't ready to end it. "Ass," he demanded, voice raw. "Give me your ass."

You hesitated for a split second, then nodded to yourself, lubing him up with your own slick before guiding his tip to your tighter hole. "Slow at first," you breathed, pushing back.

He eased in slowly as requested, the ring of muscle yielding to his thickness. "Fuck, so tight," he hissed, sweat pouring down his back. Once seated, he waited for your signal– a wiggle of your hips– then started moving, shallow thrusts building to deeper ones. The burn turned to bliss, your fingers frantic on your clit as he claimed your ass, stretching you wide.

"Take it all, you dirty girl," he commanded, pace quickening. "I'm gonna fill this hole too." You moaned louder, the fullness overwhelming, pushing you toward another edge. He reached through the hole as best he could, his fingers finding your pussy and plunging in, fucking you in tandem. Your fingers on your clit, his cock in your ass, his fingers curling inside you, they all broke you. You came again, harder, squirting around his fingers, ass clenching rhythmically around his shaft. Caleb lost it, bellowing as he erupted, hot ropes of cum spraying your insides. He pumped through his release, drawing it out until you both trembled.

Pulling out slowly, he watched his seed leak from you, a filthy sight that had him half-hard again already. "Tomorrow," he muttered, more to himself than you. "I'll be back."

You smiled, spent and satisfied, whispering back, "I'll be waiting, Colonel." The game was on– anonymous no more in spirit, but the repercussions?

Still safely walled away.

For now.

He didn’t show the next night. In fact, he had handcuffed himself to his desk that evening and tossed the key across the office, stuck until the morning cleaning crew came in. "Self control"

Colonel Caleb Xia stared at the grainy security footage on his laptop, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. It had been a week since that second mind-blowing encounter at the gloryhole, and the obsession had sunk its hooks deep into his soul. The way you'd whispered "Colonel" through the partition, the slick heat of your body yielding to him again and again– it wasn't just sex anymore. It was ownership. No one else could have you. The thought of you on your knees for some other faceless prick in that dingy arcade made his blood boil, a possessive rage twisting in his gut like a live wire. You were his now, whether you knew it or not.

With his rank came perks– connections in intelligence, strings he could pull without questions. First, he made a call to local authorities, citing a "national security concern" about potential illicit activities at the arcade. By morning, the place was shuttered, yellow tape crisscrossing the doors, owners scrambling under investigation for fabricated violations. No more gloryholes. No more anonymous fucks. That chapter was closed.

Next, he dug deeper. A discreet request to his tech team pulled the arcade's CCTV feeds– hacked quietly, no traces left. He fast-forwarded through hours of footage until he spotted you: the curve of your hips as you entered the booth, the sway of your ass that he recognized from the way it had ground back against him. Facial recognition software did the rest, cross-referencing public databases until it spat out your name, address, everything. You. Beautiful, elusive. You. His cock twitched just thinking about it. He sent for you immediately– a black SUV with tinted windows pulling up to your door, two stern-faced adjutants delivering a sealed envelope: "Report to Colonel Xia's office at 0800 hours. Urgent matter."

You arrived at the base gates precisely on time, heart pounding as guards waved you through after checking your ID. What the hell was this? The arcade shutdown had hit the local news, but you never imagined it connected back to him– the gruff, commanding voice from the other side of the wall. But it was all far too coincidental. Escorted to his office in a nondescript building, you stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. The room was starkly military: polished steel desk piled with classified folders, walls adorned with maps on screens and commendations, the faint scent of gun oil and authority hanging in the air.

Caleb rose from his chair, his uniform crisp, medals gleaming under the fluorescent lights. At 6'2", broad-shouldered and chiseled from years of rigorous training, he was even more imposing in person– dark hair slicked back, piercing violet eyes that raked over you like he was memorizing every inch. "Sit," he commanded, voice low and gravelly, the same one that had growled filthy praises through the hole. You obeyed, perching on the edge of the chair opposite his desk, your pulse racing.

"You're the one," he said, circling around to lean against the desk in front of you, arms crossed. "The girl from the arcade. Don't deny it– I know." His gaze softened just a fraction, but there was a dark edge to it, possessive and unyielding. "I've been thinking about you non-stop. That tight little pussy, the way you took me... but I can't have you sharing that with anyone else. It's mine now. You're mine."

You swallowed hard, a mix of fear and arousal flooding your veins. "What do you want from me, Colonel?" Your voice came out steadier than you felt, but there was a breathy undertone, remembering the feel of him stretching you, especially now that you saw how handsome he was.

He reached out, his large hand cupping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. "Everything. Starting now." The conversation lingered there, charged with tension– he asked about your life, your desires. His eyes analyzed every expression that crossed your face, while listening intently to your voice, savoring the timbre like fine whiskey. "Your voice... it's even sexier than I imagined," he murmured, thumb tracing your lower lip. "Soft, but with that edge of need. And your face– fuck, you're stunning. Those eyes, begging to be ruined."

He stood then, pulling you to your feet with ease, his hands roaming slowly over your shoulders, down your arms. "Let me see you. All of you." His fingers found the hem of your shirt, lifting it inch by agonizing inch, exposing the soft skin of your stomach, the dip of your navel. He paused to trace circles there with his fingertips, watching goosebumps rise. "Perfect," he whispered, voice husky with reverence and hunger. The shirt came off over your head, tossed aside, revealing your bra. He unclasped it with expert precision, letting it fall as his eyes devoured your bare breasts– pretty, nipples already pebbling in the cool air.

"God, these tits... I've dreamed about them," he growled, cupping them gently at first, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks, making you gasp. He bent down, pressing kisses along your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts, inhaling your scent. His hands slid lower, hooking into your pants, dragging them down along with your panties in one slow, deliberate motion. He knelt briefly to help you step out, his breath hot against your thighs, eyes locked on the glistening folds between your legs. "Your body is a fucking masterpiece. Every curve, every inch– mine, all mine…”

Rising, he lifted you effortlessly onto the desk, papers scattering unnoticed as he laid you back, your legs dangling over the edge. He spread your thighs wide, settling between them on his knees, his uniform brushing against your skin. "I've waited too long for this… since I licked you off my fingers and tasted heaven," he murmured, breath ghosting over your exposed pussy. He started slow, agonizingly so– his tongue flicking out to trace the outer lips, savoring the tangy sweetness of your arousal. "So wet already... tastes like heaven." He parted you with his fingers, exposing your clit, and circled it with the flat of his tongue, lazy laps that built heat gradually.

You arched, moaning softly, but he held your hips down with strong hands, forcing you to feel every deliberate stroke. He dipped lower, tongue delving into your entrance, fucking you shallowly with it, lapping up your juices like a man starved. "Mmm, so sweet," he groaned against you, vibrations sending sparks up your spine. He sucked gently on your folds, then returned to your clit, alternating between soft suckles and slow, swirling licks, drawing out your pleasure until you were trembling, begging incoherently. He savored every twitch, every gasp, his eyes flicking up to watch your face contort in ecstasy.

Only when you were on the brink did he pull back, kissing his way up your body. His mouth latched onto one breast, sucking the nipple into his warm mouth, tongue flicking and teeth grazing just enough to sting sweetly. He switched to the other, hands kneading the soft flesh, rolling the neglected peak between his fingers. "These tits are perfect for me," he rasped, voice muffled against your skin. "Gonna fuck them now."

He stood, shedding his uniform jacket and shirt quickly, revealing a sculpted chest dusted with dark hair, abs rippling as he freed his massive cock– thick, veined, already leaking pre-cum. He straddled your torso on the desk, positioning himself between your breasts. You pushed them together eagerly, enveloping his shaft in soft, warm flesh. He thrust slowly at first, the head of his cock emerging near your mouth with each pump. You leaned forward hungrily, tongue darting out to lick the tip, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum, then sucking it into your mouth as he pushed forward.

"Fuck, yes– suck it while I fuck these tits," he groaned, pace building, hips rocking steadily. The slide was slick from your saliva and his pre-cum, the sensation filthy and intimate. You swirled your tongue around the head each time it breached, hollowing your cheeks to draw him in deeper on the upthrust. His balls tightened, breaths coming in ragged pants. "Gonna cum– swallow it all, baby." He erupted with a raucous hiss, hot spurts painting your tongue and throat as you gulped greedily, not missing a drop, milking him with your mouth and the press of your breasts.

But he wasn't done. Far from it. His cock stayed semi-hard, twitching with residual need. He slid off the desk, sinking into his chair and pulling you with him. "Straddle me," he ordered.

You climbed onto his lap, knees bracketing his thighs, your dripping pussy hovering over his length. The heat radiating from his cock brushed against your slick folds, a teasing promise that made your inner muscles clench in anticipation. He guided you down slowly, the broad head parting your lips with a slick glide, stretching your entrance wide as he filled you completely. Your pretty velvet walls yielding to his girth, the veins along his shaft dragging against sensitive nerves, sending tiny sparks of electricity up your spine. Buried to the hilt, he held still, your bodies locked in intimate fullness.

"Just sit there, for a few minutes," he murmured, his hand sliding to your lower belly. "Look at how well we fit together…” He pressed harder into the form of him stretching you inside, making you squirm. He stilled his hand quickly, determined to prolong being inside you, to test his self control with you.

How cute.

His fingers brushed a stray lock from your forehead, calluses scraping lightly against your skin, leaving a trail of warmth. He gazed intently into your eyes, violet depths stormy with determination, close enough that you could count the faint freckles dusting the bridge of his nose and cheeks, like stars scattered across a rugged sky.

His thick shaft pulsed inside your walls, a rhythmic throb that matched the frantic beat of your heart, but no movement came, just the torturous intimacy of being stuffed full, your juices trickling down to coat his balls where they nestled against your ass. Every subtle shift of your weight sent ripples of sensation through you, your clit grazing the coarse hair at his base, swollen and aching for friction.

“You know I handcuffed myself, just so I wouldn't crawl back to you..” He admitted, his breath hot against your ear, lips brushing the shell as he spoke.

“What?” Your voice came out breathy, the word trembling as another pulse from his cock made your walls flutter involuntarily around him, squeezing in a way that drew a soft hiss from his lips.

“Yeah, I was really…crazy about you…” He looked away, jaw tightening, the muscle there flexing under his stubbled skin, but his hand stayed firm on your tummy, thumbs tracing idle circles over the bulge of his tip inside you, the touch both soothing and maddening.

“A gloryhole girl?” You teasingly questioned, your fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into the firm muscle as you fought the urge to rock against him, the fullness bordering on overwhelming, every inch of him pressing against spots that made your toes curl.

“Yeah..” His gaze flicked back to yours, darker now, pupils eclipsing irises, “I really wanted you to myself..” He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, noses brushing, breaths mingling in the scant space between your lips.

“That’s nice and all…but can..can I move?” You squirmed, your hips twitching despite his grip, the motion causing his cock to shift ever so slightly inside you, a delicious drag that pulled a whimper from your throat and made your thighs tremble against his.

“Not yet..” he shushed with a commanding lilt, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head, exposing your neck. He nuzzled there, lips grazing your pulse point, feeling it race under his touch.

Minutes ticked by, the clock on the wall marking each agonizing second with a soft tick-tock that seemed to echo the throb of him inside you. Your body ached, a deep, insistent burn building from the stillness– clit throbbing against his pubic bone, the wiry hairs there tickling your sensitive nub with every shallow breath you took. Slick gathered where you were joined, warm and sticky, pooling on his skin as your arousal built. You could feel the tension coiling in him too, the way his cock twitches sporadically, swelling just a fraction more, stretching you further. His chest rose and fell faster against your breasts making your nipples harden from the friction of his skin.

You squirmed again, trying to grind down, chasing that elusive spark, but his hand clamped tighter on your hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you immobile with unyielding strength. The denial only heightened everything. Your walls rippled around him in futile protest, milking him without motion.

"Patience," he whispered, nipping your earlobe sharply, the sting blooming into heat that shot straight to your core, making you clench around him involuntarily. He groaned low in his throat at the sensation, his restraint visibly fraying– eyes blazing with intensity, lids heavy, breaths coming in short, controlled pants as he fought the urge. His cock jumped inside you, a powerful throb that pressed against your G-spot, teasing without relief, and you felt his thighs tense beneath you, muscles bunching like coiled springs.

Another minute dragged on, the air heavy with unspoken need, your skin flushing hot, sweat beading along your spine and trickling down to where your bodies met. He shifted minutely, not thrusting but adjusting, the movement making his length nudge deeper, the head kissing your cervix in a way that made stars dance behind your eyelids.

“Mm–”you whimpered softly and his control splintered, piece by piece. His hips rocked once subtly, barely perceptible, yet enough to make you gasp. The sound sends him into a deeper grind, his pubic bone pressing against your clit, circling slowly to build the friction you’d been craving. His eyes locked on yours, drinking in every flicker of pleasure, his expression twisting with hunger he could no longer leash.

"Dammit, can't wait anymore," he growled, voice rough and edged with desperation, his hands sliding to your ass, gripping hard as he finally gave in. "Need to fuck you.”

He started slow, thrusting up into you with filthy-soft rolls of his hips– deep, languid strokes that dragged along every sensitive ridge inside you. "So tight, so perfect for me," he murmured, lips brushing your neck, one hand sliding up to pinch your nipple while the other gripped your ass, guiding your subtle bounces. The pace was sensual, drawn-out, each upward surge making your breasts jiggle, your moans syncing with his grunts.

But the possessiveness built, his thrusts turning harder, faster. "No one else gets this," he growled, standing abruptly with you impaled on him, strong arms supporting your weight. He spun you around, bending you over the desk– ass up, face down on the cool wood. Papers crunched under you as he slammed back in, pounding relentlessly, balls slapping against your clit with each brutal thrust. "You're mine– say it," he demanded, one hand fisting your hair to arch your back, the other spanking your ass sharply, leaving red handprints.

"Yours," you cried out, the coil in your belly snapping as he hit that deep spot over and over, the friction overwhelming. Your orgasm crashed through you, walls spasming around him, juices soaking his cock. He followed with a roar, flooding you with hot cum, claiming you utterly as he collapsed over your back, both of you panting in the afterglow of his obsessive desire.

Caleb's weight pressed down on you, his chest heaving against your back, the mingled sweat of your bodies making your skin stick together in the humid confines of his office. His cock, still semi-hard and buried deep inside your fluttering pussy, twitched with aftershocks. A slow leak of his cum trickling out around where you were joined, warm and sticky as it dripped down your inner thighs. The desk beneath you was a mess of papers scattered and ink smudged from your palms. The cool wood now warmed by the heat of your cheek pressed against it. His breath fanned hot across your neck, ragged and satisfied, but you could feel the tension still thrumming in his muscles, the way his fingers flexed possessively on your hip. He wasn't done. Not even close.

With a low grunt that vibrated through you, he straightened up slowly, his hands sliding along your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before gripping hard enough to bruise. "That was just the warmup," he rasped, voice dark and edged with that hunger that made your pulse spike anew. His cock slipped free with a wet pop, leaving you empty and aching, a gush of mixed fluids spilling onto the desk. He spun you around to face him, your ass perched on the edge, legs dangling weakly as he towered over you, eyes raking down your flushed, sweat-glistened body like a predator sizing up prey.

"Need you rougher this time," he muttered, more to himself than you, his large hands shoving your thighs apart wider, exposing your swollen, cum-smeared pussy to the cool air. The sting of overstimulation hit as his thumb brushed your clit, circling roughly, not gentle anymore– pressing hard, flicking with enough force to make you jolt and whimper. "Gonna fuck you until every part of you remembers who owns this body." He grabbed your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head against the desk's surface, the wood creaking under the pressure. His free hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, nipping hard enough to leave a mark.

You gasped as he shoved two thick fingers into your pussy without warning, curling them deep and scissoring roughly, stretching you further while his thumb ground against your clit in furious circles. Your hips bucked involuntarily into his hand despite the raw sensitivity. "Look at you, still dripping for me," he snarled, pumping his fingers faster, the heel of his palm slapping against your mound with each thrust. "This cunt is mine– gonna ruin it for anyone else." He added a third finger, your walls clenching around the intrusion as he twisted them, hitting your G-spot with punishing accuracy, forcing a cry from your lips.

"Too much– please– ”

His mouth crashed down on yours then, not a kiss but a claim. Roughly invading your mouth with his tongue, teeth clashing. He bit your lower lip until you tasted the faint copper of blood. He pulled his fingers free abruptly, slick-coated and glistening, and shoved them into your mouth replacing his tongue on yours, forcing you to suck them clean. "Taste us," he commanded, eyes locked on yours as you obeyed, tongue swirling around his digits, the salty tang of cum and arousal flooding your senses. His cock, fully hard again and throbbing angrily against your thigh, left a trail of pre-cum on your skin as he rutted against you.

“Fuck– you're perfect for me....”

He flipped you onto your stomach again, your breasts flattening against the desk, nipples scraping the rough edges of scattered files. He kicked your legs wider, one boot hooking around your ankle to spread you open, vulnerable. "Ass up higher," he barked, slapping your cheek hard– the crack echoing, heat blooming instantly across your skin. You arched as best you could, presenting yourself. He rewarded you with another smack, then another, alternating sides until your ass burned red, each impact jolting through you, making your pussy clench emptily.

He lined up his cock, the head nudging your entrance, but instead of easing in, he slammed forward in one vicious thrust, burying himself to the balls. The force shoved you forward, desk drawers rattling, a stapler clattering to the floor. "Fuck!" you yelped, the stretch bordering on pain, but he didn't give you time to adjust– pulling back almost fully before ramming in again, setting a harsh rhythm. His hips snapped against your ass with skin-slapping intensity, balls swinging to smack your clit on every downstroke, the friction building a fire that made your vision blur.

"Take it," he grunted, one hand fisting into your hair, pulling you into a deeper bend. The other gripped your hip like a vice, pulling you back onto him with each punishing drive. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your back, sliding down your spine as he fucked you relentlessly, the desk groaning under the assault. He leaned over you, teeth sinking into your shoulder, marking you as his cock dragged along your inner walls, veins pulsing, head battering your cervix with every thrust. "Scream for me– let the whole base know you're mine." He held your head back more as he pistoned into you.

Your moans turned to wails, the coil in your belly tightening impossibly as he reached around, fingers finding your clit and pinching hard, rolling it between thumb and forefinger with rough tugs. The overstimulation was exquisite agony, your body trembling, thighs quaking as another orgasm built fast and fierce. He felt it coming, his pace faltering into erratic, deeper jabs. "Cum on my cock– milk me dry," he demanded, spanking you again for emphasis.

Your vision whited out, coming as he ordered, walls convulsing around him in violent spasms. You squirted slick that soaked his thighs and puddled on the floor. He groaned loudly as your pussy clamped down hard around his length, your liquid squirting out and coating his balls and thighs. It's the hottest fucking thing he's ever seen or felt. He roared, thrusting through your climax, prolonging it until you were sobbing, oversensitive and boneless. Only then did he let go, hips stammering as he flooded you again, hot ropes of cum painting your insides, overflowing to drip out of your pussy with each pulse.

He stayed buried for a long moment, both of you panting, his body draped over yours like a possessive cage. Slowly, he pulled out, watching with dark satisfaction as his seed leaked from your abused pussy. "Good girl," he murmured, the roughness fading into something softer, though the obsession lingered in his eyes.

Gently now, he scooped you up, cradling you against his chest as he sank back into his chair, your limp form nestled in his lap. His hands, callused but tender, stroked your back in soothing circles, tracing the marks he'd left– the bites, the bruises– with a reverence that bordered on worship. "Shh, I've got you," he whispered, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your eyelids, your tear-streaked cheeks. The shift was startling, like a storm giving way to calm.

He reached for a drawer, pulling out a soft blanket– military issue, but clean and warm– and draped it over you both, tucking it around your shoulders. His fingers stroked over your hair, while his other hand rubbed your spanked ass gently, massaging away the sting. "You were perfect," he praised, voice low and reassuring, nuzzling your neck. "No more arcade. No more gloryholes. You're done with that life– I shut it down for good. You'll stay with me now. I'll take care of everything– housing on base, whatever you need. No one touches you but me."

You nestled closer, fucked-out and exhausted, his heartbeat steady under your ear. He fetched a water bottle from his desk, holding it to your lips, encouraging you to sip slowly, then wiped your face with a tissue, cleaning away smudged makeup and drying sweat. "Rest now," he said, rocking you slightly, his arms a secure cage around you. "When you're ready, I'll draw you a bath back at my quarters. Cook you dinner. You're mine to cherish, too– not just fuck." His grip tightened just enough to remind you of the claim beneath his whispers, the kind of hold that blurred the line between protection and permanence, leaving no room for thoughts of escape.

Thanks for reading <3

your face contorted in sheer pleasure and joy, tears rushing down your face, your legs slightly swinging off the floor. your once strong and larger body now reduced to a small mess when compared to the behemoth of a man behind you, his muscles so biteable, “oh fuck…” you cried, a drop landing on his arm.

“awwh? you cryin’?” a laugh came from the man above you before he tightened the arm around your neck, “stay still now, it’ll be over soon.”

caleb pushed the remaining inches of his cock inside, rubbing your hip with his free hand to soothe your cries and pleads.

“caleb! oh my gosh!! ohhh—aaahh! you’re so big i can’t!!”

it felt like he was splitting you in two, his thick cock stretching out your virgin cunt, “oh please…just go slow—slow!”

“i will, i will….relax, take a deep breath.” caleb kissed your ear, gently licking uk and down your neck. his head tilting to reach your neck properly, kissing under your jawline and on your collarbone, “you’re in charge pretty, what do you want me to do?”

lifting your head up slightly, you whined, feeling your walls clenched around his dick, “….c-can you squeeze me?”

caleb’s face was pressed so deep into your hair, smelling your scent, to the point where you felt his eyebrow raise, “squeeze you?—“

“squish me…make me feel suffocated…lay on me—anything…! just pleasee,” your trembling hand rubbing up and down his bicep, “…wanna feel you,”

caleb rubbed your back, kissing your spine, “are you sure pips? i don’t wanna hurt ya,” however he was met with a very—very sincere nod, tears nearly sheafing from how bad you wanted to feel his weight on you, “alright, no tears baby.”

caleb carefully picked your up, holding you tightly to his chest, shaky legs wrapping around your legs. his cock just slightly slipped out, to your discomfort.

“caleb—

“i know, i’ll put it back in when we get to the bed.”

as soon as your body landed onto the bed, your back washing the soft mattress, caleb climbed above you. his hands alrwdy grabbing your thighs and pushing them forward, your knees next to your ears by this point. the quick change in position making you squeal, “aaah!—fuck!—“

“flexible too, hm. i trained you well.” your moans onto deaf ears, hands ripping at the mattress covers,. The barely-surviving walls of your pussy felt like it was being ripped again when caleb put his cock back inside.

another mewl, your cunt sucking his cock in like a vacuum, keeping him still and clinging to his sensitive tip, “fuck…please move…!”

“how much?”

“a lot!—a lot caleb! just move!”

“not enough detailsss. c’mon, use that noggin of yours,” caleb teasingly flicked your head, hearing you whine. your hands reached up to try and grab something instead of the mattress, “hard…deep…breed me—anything!”

caleb lowered his body, one leg going up to get a better angle, “hard and deep? and slow?—“

tears came to your eyes, the tension in your body too much to handle anymore, “…lebbie..”

seeing your tears, caleb rubes the skin on your thigh, his hips thrusting his cock inside of you slowly, “okay okay, don’t cry. awwhh, lebbie’s being mean, isn’t he?”

“v-very mean..” you whimpered, holding your legs up for him, exposing your wide hole. caleb gently held one of your legs, before thrusting himself outwards only to slam right back into you. your moans louder with every thrust.

his cock stimulating your g-spot with every harsh snap of his hips, your body jotting up on the bed, moans and screamed echoed in his arms. caleb however was too pussydrunk, his own grunts filling his ears, “i’ll make it up to you.”

your pussy squeezed around his length, making a wet suction sounds whenever he left your cunt. caleb’s hand went to your chin, lifting your head up to see tears running down yours face. your mind not here right now.

however your body was woken up with a firm pat on your cheek, nearly a slap if caleb wasn’t careful, his thumb then wiping at your tears, “don’t pass out of me now, pips.”

all you could see was black dots, your eyes shut closed after, concentrated on the overwhelming feeling being railed into the mattress. not even captured how fast your orgasm was building up, “oh gosh—c-colonel!—“

“nuh uh…say my name,” caleb growled, his eyes gazing down at your face with lust.

moaning, a hand went to his lifted leg, trying to make him slow down, “..c…ca—fuck!”

“it’s right there, c’mon pretty girl. i know you have a few neurons in there that are conscious.”

another attempt, “…cal..leb! ahh! nnnghh!—oooh!”

with a chuckle, caleb thrusted harder, the whole room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against each other, “one more. one more time for me, gorgeous. you got it.”

“caleb!” the feeling was too much, your body letting go instantly. caleb nodded, grunting when your pussy came on his sensitive tip, “thereee we go, good girl.”

barely a second after, thick ropes of cum shot up your cunt, coating your walls perfectly. caleb’s merciless thrusts slowing down, his dick twitching inside of you.

both you and caleb panted, your head was off of it, caleb was still pussy drunk but laid down the feeling for your health and wellbeing, “…you did so well..”

his body lowered, your legs being freed to land on either side of his body. caleb’s lips landed on your, wet and sloppily kissing you. his tongue sunk deep into your mouth whilst a hand passionately groped your breasts, “the prettiest girl ever…deep breaths now. just rest for me, i’ll take care of the rest.

you knock timidly at his door, half expecting and half fearing that his colonel voice will be what greets you.

"come in, pips." you let out a silent sigh of relief as you open the door, offering a slightly nervous smile. caleb turns his head sharply, his features a little stiff with what seems to be exhaustion, unsurprisingly.

he's still in his uniform, mostly, though it's warm in the house - he's down to just his button-up shirt and trousers, with his outer layers lying discarded on a chair across the room with his hat.

you just... stand, for a moment feeling a little awkward, what with the chill on your skin as you stand in just your shorts and top, as well as from the very evident tension radiating off of him.

"is- is everything going okay?" you ask, blinking wide at the harsh desklamp by his head.

his gaze softens as he looks at you, though, and he finds himself brushing his hair back off his forehead a little.

"nearly done." a small smile flickers across his features, though his eyes are tired. "i'm sorry, pips, i know i said we could hang out tonight. i'll be all yours in..." he glances at the clock. "...half an hour, promise."

"it's okay. i get it." you find yourself reassuring him. "it's not your fault."

he nods, his eyes fluttering shut in a long, slow blink before opening again to reveal exhaustion in your favourite shade of violet.

it's quiet. something lingers in the air between you, words hidden behind looks that are too cryptic for either of you to decode when all you want is each other.

"can i sit with you for a bit?" you ask before you can stop yourself, twisting and untwisting your fingers.

that makes him smile, warm and bright and your favourite version of him by far.

"course you can, honey." you move to grab an extra chair to pull up beside him, but he stops you. "no, no, c'mere." he gestures to his lap, and you feel your cheeks flush with heat. "i think i need a hug from my girl for motivation." he says with a cheeky lilt to his voice.

you have no choice but to clamber on to his lap, his gloved hands flying to your waist to steady you when you wobble. then, he's wrapping his arms around your middle to hug you tight. you drape your own over his shoulders, his face pressing close into your neck as he inhales deeply, holding for a few beats before pulling back.

"alright." he exhales. "needed that." he murmurs like it's over, but his grip on you doesn't let up. if anything, he's pressing you down, and you can't help but squirm. the movement, a slight jolt of your hips has electricity sparking up your spine, and you bite back a whimper that feels like it's been stuck in the back of your throat for a while.

"caleb..." you whisper breathlessly, your hips grinding just a little into his lap.

his focus is soon fixed at the screen over your shoulder again, it would seem, if not for how one hand lingers at your waist, gently guiding your movements, pressing you down against a familiarly growing bulge in his pale uniform trousers.

"that's it, pips, take what you need." he murmurs, and your forehead drops to his shoulder as you let out a whine of his name.

you roll your hips against his, harder each time like you're trying to go deeper, barred from really feeling him by a few layers of fabric. your soft cotton panties grow damper by the second, and your tiny shorts are so flimsy that caleb can practically feel you pulse, even with the stiff fabric of his trousers in the way.

you suck in a breath, clenching around nothing, clit jumping against slick cotton so deliciously that your stomach flips.

but it's not enough. not when caleb is still feigning concentration on his work - his focus might be forced, but either way, his attention isn't yours, and you whine for him again.

"caleb-" you draw out the syllables of his name in a breathy whimper. "can't-" your movements falter as your balance teeters, and he fastens his one-handed grip on your hip, his hand slipping under your shirt to palm at bare skin while the other is still tapping at a screen. his fingertips press into your skin with an intensity that makes your head spin, but the pressure forces you to slow down, too, and your eyebrows knit into a frown as you cry out softly in frustration.

"almost done, baby, i promise." he reassures you, the picture of serenity to anyone but you.

because as you grind your hips down in shallow circles, even with your range of movement limited by his firm hand, you feel his cock twitch, now fully hard under you, prominent even through far too many layers of clothes. it's a dead giveaway, really, that this is as hard for him as it is for you.

"can you-" you buck your hips, harder than before, and he takes a sharp breath in, just a touch laboured and it's enough to make the heat in your core deepen. "can you be a good girl for me, pipsqueak? just for a little longer?" he murmurs into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, the feeling making you quiver again.

you bite down on your lip, nuzzling into his neck in an attempt to seek some kind of comfort. he draws soothing little circles into your skin with his thumb, and you squeeze your eyes shut, summoning every bit of will that you can as you nod, twice, short and sharp, but it's enough.

"that's my girl. gonna make you feel so good, honey. gonna give you everything you want."

You weren't official family. That was the problem, the one that the Farspace Fleet kept running into every time you called. Childhood bonds didn't have paperwork. Shared trauma didn't have a form number. The promise made in the darkness of his room more than a year ago didn't hold any legal weight, and so every time you called you got the same automated voice, the same words in the same order.

The expedition into the deepspace flux zone is ongoing. All communications are classified under Level 4 security protocols.

You'd stopped counting how many times you'd heard it.

A week ago rumors started moving through the hunter channels, spreading fast and going quiet the moment an official walked into a room. A collapse inside the tunnel. A squadron cut off from the extraction point. You'd cornered a senior officer at the Association headquarters and watched her look at everything in the room except your face while she told you to prepare for the worst. As if that was a sentence you were supposed to absorb and go home.

They were writing him off. Filling in forms. Moving toward the moment where they'd call it officially and send you a letter with his name at the top and a condolences paragraph at the bottom, and the universe would have taken him from you a second time. The first time had been the explosion. You'd been clueless then, and the grief had carved something out of you that had never fully grown back. Thirty two days of silence and you could feel those same edges again, the same hollow shape of a loss you didn't know how to survive this time.

You'd spent the last two days crying under your duvet without a reason to come out.

2:14 AM. The front door clicked.

You sat up so fast the blood rushed out of your head. Sat completely still in the dark, heart hammering, telling yourself it was nothing— probably a neighbor's door, your own exhausted mind making up sounds it wanted to hear. You'd been doing that. Hearing things. Seeing his face in the corner of your eye on the street and turning to find a stranger.

Heavy footsteps in the hallway. A duffel bag dropped onto the hardwood floor. The weight of it, the carelessness of someone too exhausted to set something down gently, sent something electric straight up your spine.

You got out of bed. Your legs weren't entirely reliable. You caught the door frame, steadied yourself, crossed the hallway on autopilot with your heart somewhere in your throat.

The bathroom light was on. Through the glass the steam was already building, the shower ran hard and hot, and you could smell it from the doorway—your shampoo.

You pushed the door open.

The steam rolled out around you, warm and thick, and through the clear panel of the shower glass—

Caleb.

He didn't know you were there yet.

He was standing under the water with his forehead pressed against the tile, shoulders rising and falling. The water was too hot—you could tell because the steam was already thick enough to blur the far wall—but he wasn't adjusting it. Just standing in it. Letting it hit the back of his neck and run down the lines of his shoulders to carry whatever he'd brought back with him down the drain.

His skin was pale, the kind of pale that came from a month without real sunlight, and every muscle in his back was wound so tight it looked painful.

He looked like he had fought his way to a door and wasn't entirely sure yet that he'd made it through.

His head turned.

His eyes found yours through the condensation and steam, bloodshot from lack of sleep and completely awake in an instant, and the look on his face when he saw you standing there—the unguarded relief of it—hit you somewhere behind your ribs and stayed there.

He reached back to shut the water off then stepped out without reaching for a towel, water running off his shoulders and chest, steam rising off his skin. He looked different. Harder at the edges. Several days of dark stubble caught the harsh bathroom light and he looked nothing like the man who'd kissed you goodbye a month ago, or he looked exactly like that man, just with everything worn closer to the surface, less of it contained.

Neither of you spoke. You weren't sure you could. The reality of him standing in front of you—breathing, dripping water onto the floor—was still making its way through days of silence and the grief of someone who had already lost him once and had spent the last forty eight hours preparing to do it again.

"Caleb." It came out barely a sound.

He crossed the bathroom floor in three steps, water trailing behind him, and his hand wrapped around your wrist. His grip was warm, real and it made your eyes sting immediately. He didn't say anything. He just held you for a moment, his thumb pressed against your pulse point, and let you feel that he was there.

He kept hold of your wrist the whole way. Down the hall, through the door of your room, until your shoulders found a wall and he stopped in front of you. The sight of him, still yours, broke something open in your chest that you'd been holding very carefully shut.

"Caleb,—the fleet, they—I thought you were—"

"I'm right here." His voice came out rough, scraped down to something raw and unrecognizable, nothing of his usual warmth in it yet. "Forget what they said. I'm right here. I'm safe."

He placed his palms against the wall on either side of your head, steadying the space around you like he always had. The heat coming off his skin was startling against the cool air of the bedroom. You looked up at him, at the dark sharp lines of his jaw and the thick stubble that made him look exhausted and more real than anything you'd let yourself imagine in the last four weeks.

"Look at you," he said quietly, eyes moving over your face, your shaking hands, "Why are you trembling. It's okay." His voice dropped further. "I've got you."

"I thought you were dead." The first sob broke through before you could stop it "They wouldn't tell me anything, Caleb. They told me to prepare for the worst, I didn't know what that—fuck, I did know what it meant and I couldn't—"

"I know." He pulled you away from the wall and buried his face in the curve of your neck, you felt the rough drag of his stubble against your skin and gasped. He breathed you in slowly, deeply, his whole chest expanding against yours. "I know what they're like." His arms tightened around you. "But I promised you. I have always promised you. I fought my way out of that tunnel because leaving you again was not an option."

His hands moved down and without any warning he hooked his hands under your thighs and lifted you clean off the floor.

You wrapped your legs around his waist on instinct, hands flying to his shoulders. Your shorts rode up with the movement, bare thighs pressing against the heat of his hips.

"Baby—"

His mouth came down on yours.

It wasn't desperate in the way you'd expected. It was slower than that, deeper, a kiss that had too much behind it to rush. A month of darkness, cold and whatever he'd fought through to get back to you, all of it pressing into the way his lips moved against yours, his tongue parting your mouth in a heavy stroke that made your fingers curl into his damp hair and pull.

He shifted your weight, pressing your spine gently but firmly into the wall, and you felt the full length of his cock against you through the thin fabric of your shorts—already hard, already searching for the closeness you both needed, his hips moving in a slow rhythm that mirrored exactly what his mouth was doing.

He broke the kiss just far enough to look at you again.

"I'm here," he said, his words almost too quiet to hear. "Right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I need—" Your voice broke, tears were streaming down your face. "Please. I need to feel you. I need to know you're actually—"

The sound that came out of him was pained. He lowered you until your feet touched the floor, keeping one arm tight around your waist, and his free hand went to your waistband, careful, guiding your shorts and underwear down together until they pooled at your ankles and you stepped out of them.

He straightened back up and you looked at each other in the quiet of the room. He was watching your face with an expression that made your throat close up again. The marks of the last month were all over him, the exhaustion, the weight loss, the hollowness around his eyes, and he was still the most beautiful man you'd ever seen.

He reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, tossing it behind him without looking. Then he was back against you, chest to chest, and the heat of his body in front of you and the cool hard wall behind you made your breath leave you all at once.

His jaw dragged down your throat. The stubble was rough and you felt every millimeter of it, that scraping friction kept pulling you back into your body every time emotion threatened to pull you out of it. He was doing it on purpose. Making sure you felt him. "Right here," he said softly against your skin. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours."

There was nothing left to say that your body wasn't already saying for you.

He hooked one of your legs over his hip, his forearm sliding under your thigh to hold you there. His free hand moved between you, guiding himself to your entrance, and he paused—just for a breath, tip pressed against your heat—eyes on your face, waiting.

"Please. Now. Ca—"

He pressed forward and you buried your face in his neck.

The sob that came out of you surprised both of you. He felt it move through you and pulled you closer, both arms wrapping around you, his hands spread wide across your back.

"I've got you," he whispered, lips against your temple. "I've got you. I'm here."

He pulled back slowly. Almost all the way. Let you feel the drag of it, the absence, and then drove back in deeper.

"Caleb—" he swallowed the sound of his name with a sound of his own, low in his chest, his forehead dropping to yours.

He began to move and there was nothing fast about it. Just you and him.

The heat built fast anyway. Your nails found his back, his shoulders, whatever you could reach, and he let you—didn't flinch, didn't shift away, just kept moving in a steady rhythm while the wet sounds of it and both of your breathing filled up the room. Your tears were still falling and you stopped trying to do anything about them, just let them come while your mouth left marks on his body.

His shoulder pulled away from your mouth.

"Look at me." Came his voice, strained, like it cost him something to speak. "Let me see you."

You lifted your head. Your vision was a bit blurry, everything fractured through tears, but you could see him clearly enough, jaw clenched, neck tight, the muscles in his face working against something he was holding back.

"You don't have to be scared anymore," he rasped, hips driving forward again, finding a shorter faster rhythm that dragged against every nerve ending you had. "I'm right here, baby. I'm staying right here."

"I was so scared—" The words broke apart before you got through them, your body clenching around him in tight pulses. "Caleb, I thought—I kept calling and they wouldn't—and then she said to prepare and I didn't—"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you had to sit with that."

"Don't apologize—"

"Look at me," he said again, softer this time. "Stay with me."

He grabbed your other leg, hoisting you higher until you were fully suspended—nothing under you but him, every thrust finding someplace deeper, enough to make your whole body seize up and your head fall back against the wall.

"Oh—Caleb—I'm going to—I—"

"I've got you." He brought his face to your cheek, lips moving against the wet, salty skin there, breathing you in. "I've got you. Let go."

The past month collapsed into a single point in your chest and then detonated. Not just pleasure—though that rolled through you in long shaking waves—but everything under it. Every night staring at his empty side of the bed. Every time a voice said please await official updates. The two days under your duvet where you'd let yourself start to grieve him. All of it coming up at once, unstoppable, your whole body shaking with it while he held you against the wall and didn't let you fall.

"I love you," you sobbed into his neck, the words coming out in pieces. "I love you—I love you—"

"I know." His voice cracked on the second word. He was close. His lips pressed to your temple, your jaw, your wet cheek "I know, baby. I love you. I love you. I'm home."

He buried himself as deep as he could go, shaking, your name in his mouth like a prayer he'd been repeating for a month to keep himself moving forward.

He carried you to the bed eventually. Lay down with you still tangled against his chest, one hand moving slow up and down your back, the other tucked under his head.

"They really told you to prepare?"

"Three days ago."

He was quiet for a moment. His hand stilled on your back.

"They wouldn't tell me anything because I'm not—I'm not on any form. There's no box I fit in. I'm not—" You stopped. Felt your throat tighten again and breathed through it. "There's no paperwork that says I'm yours. So as far as they were concerned I was nobody and they owed me nothing."

Caleb didn't say anything. His chest rose and fell steadily.

"I need that to change"

"Okay," he said.

"I mean it, Caleb." You pushed yourself up onto your elbow and looked at him, his eyes were already on you. "I need it to actually change. Not someday. Not when things settle down or when the fleet rotation is easier or when we find a better time. I need—" your voice came out fierce and a little unsteady and you let it be both. "I need to be your wife. Legally. On every form and every document and every emergency contact line they have. I need there to be paperwork that says you're mine so that the next time someone tries to lock me out of a room where decisions are being made about your life, I can put it on their desk and they cannot say no to me."

He was very still.

"I'm not asking you to do something romantic," you said. "I'm not—this isn't about a ceremony or a dress or any of that, though I want all of that too, I do. I'm asking you because I spent a month being nobody to the people who had information about whether you were alive. I'm asking because I sat in this apartment with no legal right to know anything and I cannot do that again. I will not do that again."

Caleb looked at you for a long moment then he reached up and put his hand against the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.

"I've wanted to ask you, I kept waiting for the right moment."

"This is the right moment."

"You're proposing to me at four in the morning."

"I am."

The corner of his mouth pulled up. The first real version of his smile you'd seen since he walked through the door, the one that reached all the way up, the one that was so him it made your chest ache.

He pulled you back down against him, arms wrapping around you, lips pressing to the top of your head and staying there. "First thing tomorrow we go to the registration office. We fill out every form they have. We put your name on everything."

You pressed your face into his chest and closed your eyes, this time it wasn't to wait for a notification that never came.

It was just to sleep.

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