#mayo makes things

"I'll ask again." He tilted his head as he pressed the lie detector in harder, causing her to flinch away. "Did you come to Skyhaven for the Aether Core?"

Her mouth twisted into a frown as he glared down at her, the caring and kind man she once knew was nowhere to be found. She started to retort, ask him a question in turn, say anything to help her figure out what was going on.

"Answer me," he sneered out, his eyes holding a venom she never thought was possible in that lilac gaze.

This couldn't have been her Caleb—not anymore.

"Remember," he said slow and low, "the camera is watching. You must tell the truth."

It was almost like he was warning her—he was never that good of an actor though, was he? She didn't feel any warmth from him, she was just prey caught oh so perfectly in his clutches. She winced as the lie detector pressed into her chest and the arm restraints bit into her wrists.

She gritted her teeth and let out a shaky breath.

She would just have to be as good of an actor as he was, then.

"I'm telling the truth." She said slowly, calmly. "I'm not related to anything involving an Aether Core."

Something flickered across his features, but her blood was boiling too much for her to be able to read his expression properly.

"This is your last chance." He adjusted his grip on the lie detector, letting out a deep breath that brushed over her face and had her pulling at her restraints again, wanting nothing more than to push him off of her and rid herself of this false image of him.

"I don't know anything." She reiterated through gritted teeth. She could feel her pulse raising as the device began to beep, soon to reveal her fate.

But his grip shifted on it again, a subtle click meeting her ears as the buzzing stopped and the screen went blank.

He pulled back, just a little, his expression unreadable.

She couldn't help the shaky breath that left her and she swallowed to ease the drying ache in her throat.

He looked her up and down one more time before standing to his full height, towering over her.

"You passed." He finally said and just as she blinked in confusion he seemed to slowly morph before her.

He was still the Farspace Fleet's Colonel, but there was a familiar softness around his eyes now.

She flinched as the lights came on and she instinctively raised her arms, expecting the resistance of the arm restraints, but they clicked open just in time to allow her to shield her eyes from the too bright lights.

She blinked, letting out a small noise of confusion as she moved her arms, looking at him through the gap.

He was smirking.

She felt a new wave of emotion course through her and her jaw tensed as she balled her hands into tight fists.

"You…" Her voice came out strained, anger, confusion, and hurt bubbling up to the surface.

He didn't seem put off by her tone, instead he leaned down, and in a too familiar gesture, his hand went to rest on her head, his thumb brushing at her bangs.

"Surprised? Sure it's been a while, but you already forgot about me?" He chuckled.

She swatted his hand away from her.

"You, Caleb, you're dead!" She lost her cool, voice louder than she would have liked, but her rage bubbled up too quickly for her to control.

The look on his face shifted, the amusement in his smirk deepening.

"If that were true, how could I be standing right here?" He leaned forward again, hands going to take the collar from around her neck.

She pushed his hands away from her again, standing quickly.

Her face heated with rage and his smirk faltered for a nearly imperceptible moment, the hard gaze he wore before threatening to slip back onto his face.

He reached for the collar again and caught her arm when she went to push him away. His gloved hand was cold on her sore wrist, his long fingers applying just enough pressure to make her flinch and try to jerk away.

"Just let me get this, okay?" His tone was soft, he was trying to soothe her now.

After all that, it didn't work. He was no longer her childhood protector, he was a man who evaded death and left her alone to grieve him for far too long. He was cold—cruel even, if she were to go by the force he'd already used against her.

The collar snapped off and he tossed it on the table behind him.

His hand was still around her wrist, but his grip loosened. When she didn't pull away his hand left her wrist, inching down to clasp her hand in his.

"Did I scare you?" He asked and it would have been reassuring if she wasn't still trapped in an interrogation room.

"You…" She shook her head, feeling her face heat as all her feelings came to a head. "You left me!" She blurted out and she could feel tears of anger and grief pricking at her eyes.

He didn't say anything as she glared up at him, but he shifted their clasped hands, his fingers threading through hers.

He tugged her gently forward and she stumbled, reaching out her other hand to brace against his chest. She scoffed as she looked up at him, shaking her head. She didn't pull her hand from his grasp, instead she squeezed her fingers, hoping that her small grip in his large hand could at least cause him a moment of discomfort, but he didn't even flinch.

He pursed his lips, eyes searching her face as she glared up at him with as much venom as she could muster.

"I didn't leave you," he finally said, voice soft. He looked truthful, but how could she believe him after the display he'd put on?

"You did." She hissed out, taking a step back.

He tugged at her arm again, not letting her get far.

She snarled at the action, rage still at the forefront. She pulled at his grasp and when he was unmoving, she raised her other hand, quickly striking out.

The sound of her hand across his face rang out in the silent interrogation room, but he didn't make a noise as his head turned to the side. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes seemed to darken, twinkling with a barely contained rage.

Her fingers stung, even with her glove to buffer the impact of her hand on his cheek. She took a step back, only stopped from going farther by his grip on her hand.

He wasn't looking at her yet and she watched him with a quiet fear rising, taking place of the anger she'd felt before.

His lips parted, tongue just barely flicking out to wet them, but she caught the sight hint of a red liquid tinting his tongue and staining the few teeth she got a peek at.

He finally turned back to her, gaze hard, and her breath left her.

He tugged her forward again and she struggled against his grip, letting out small pleas for him to let her go to no avail.

Her other hand landed on his chest again, fingers gripping at and wrinkling his uniform coat.

She did her best to glare up at him, despite the way she sucked in shaky breaths.

His face was stony and she flinched back when he leaned forward. She could feel his heart beat under her palm, calm and steady, while her own was erratic, pounding loudly in her ears.

His breath fanned out across her face again and she turned away from him, wincing at the faint smell of iron on his breath.

His free hand reached up, gloved fingers ghosting over her jaw before he gripped her chin, turning her head and making him face her. She cringed away from his hard gaze, but as he leaned in closer, his expression seemed to soften.

She couldn't help the small whimper that left her mouth as she felt his lips nearly brush across her cheek.

"I didn't leave you," he finally said, voice soft and reassuring. His thumb gently brushed her jaw, the hand gripping hers loosening and going to rest on the small of her back.

She almost broke, but took in a shaky breath, turning her face ever so slightly, meeting his softened eyes.

"I won't ever leave you, I promise." He said, pressing his forehead to hers.

She blinked and her unshed tears finally fell, stinging her hot face. Her lips trembled as she held her breath, closing her eyes as she leaned into him, his now tender touch overwhelming her.

He pulled her closer, their bodies pressed flush to one another and her sob finally broke. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her tear streaked face into his chest.

"I thought you were dead, Caleb." She managed to get out, voice muffled by her tears and the fabric of his jacket.

He held her tight to him and she could feel him press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. He moved, hand stroking her hair, and he pressed his lips to her temple, the sound of his soft breathing soothing to her senses.

"No matter what," his voice was gentle in her ear and his fingers caressed up her spine. She felt herself clinging to him further, sucking in a breath, breathing him in. "I'll always be by your side." He pressed another soft kiss to her temple, holding her tight until her sobs died down.

"What does he think he's doing…" Professor Zhang muttered to herself as she pushed her glasses up on her nose. She was staring at her computer screen, scrutinizing an email her student, Zhu Chao, forwarded to her, each word in it making her anger rise.

"S-so, do you think we can reschedule my final?" The student shuffled where they stood in the door of her office in the English department. "Professor Qi said he didn't have another time slot for me—I promise I didn't do this on purpose!" Panic filled the young student's voice as they plead with Professor Zhang.

Her sympathy rose, anger quavering the same as the student's voice. She tore her gaze away from the screen, her eyes having lingered just a little too long on the sarcastic sign off from Professor Qi. 'happy to work this out with your other Professor! - Qi Rafayel'

Professor Zhang took her glasses off, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh. "I know, I know," she assured the student, "these things happen sometimes," she said as she pinched at the bridge of her nose.

"Do you think you can move my final then?" Zhu Chao's voice became high-pitched, their brows creasing, unshed tears still in their eyes.

"I don't know," Professor Zhang sighed out, "Our final schedule is… well, final—can you email me the rest of your schedule for your other classes?"

"Of course!" the student jumped at the chance, pulling out their phone and tapping away at their screen.

"In the meantime," she glanced back at her computer screen, reading the final line of the email again. "I suppose I'll go have a talk with Professor Qi."

Professor Zhang didn't bother bringing her bag with her, locking up her office before making her way down a few flights of stairs and out into the courtyard just outside her department's building. It was a nice day, the air getting cooler as they approached the end of the year, the late fall breeze causing her to shiver as she hurried across campus to the Art department building.

She ignored the greetings of students and teachers alike as she made her way through the familiar halls of the Art building. She'd once spent all her time in these walls, her temporary tenure as an art history teacher helped to secure her position with Linkon University while she worked on her Master's in English.

Some of the Art staff hadn't taken her transfer of departments so well…

When she finally reached the fourth floor, anticipation had coiled tightly in her stomach. It had been a year since she'd step foot into any of these offices—an entire year since she'd communicated with her old colleagues in more than just passing or at their semesters start staff meetings. More than a year since she'd last stood in the doorway of Professor Qi's office and had those sunset eyes boring into her.

She probably shouldn't have come here.

But she was outside his door once again, breath catching in her throat as a wave of deja vu washed over her.

He was playing games with her, she knew that—and using a student to do so? How uncouth.

She didn't bother knocking, just twisted the knob and stepped inside.

He didn't look up from his desk when she entered, letting her close it softly behind her and take in the image of him before he broke the stillness in the air.

He worked carefully on writing comments in the margins of a student essay, his glasses sliding down his nose, brows creasing slightly as he read something particularly uninspiring.

She didn't move, holding in a breath, trying to ground herself.

He turned the page, finishing the essay before he finally acknowledged her.

"You finally decided to drop by?" He said, voice low, tinged with annoyance. He set the paper aside, grabbing another one, sparing her a glance over the rim of his glasses.

It was fleeting, but piercing.

She was losing her nerve.

"This could have been an email," she said quickly, hand going to the door knob to let herself out.

"So now you want to email?" he said quickly, "I won't respond." He slid the paper away from him and finally gave her his full attention.

Her shoulders tensed at having his gaze fully on her again, her hand falling back to her side as she schooled her expression.

"If you leave, I won't move Zhu Chao's final, and I know your times are set in advance by the Dean—you can't change yours." He said, matter-of-factly, his smugness, and her anger, growing with every word.

"That's not fair!" she found herself blurting out, feet carrying her across the room until she stood in front of his desk. "You can't just play with our student's lives like this—did you know how anxious they were about this? I thought they were going to cry in my office."

He didn't react to her outburst, no flinch at her tone, no remorse on his face. He stared across his desk at her, the corner of his mouth shifting almost imperceptive as those stormy eyes held hers—and God dammit, she felt herself breaking.

She jerked her gaze away from his, focusing instead on the shelf just behind his head. "I can't believe you aren't taking this seriously—" She slapped her palms down onto the desk, color rising to her cheeks as she battled the mix of anger, humiliation—and a touch of longing—that sparked inside of her, "well, no actually I can—but this is a little much don't you think?"

He shifted in his seat, removing his glasses and tossing them haphazardly onto the stack of essays. "You think I don't care about my students?" She could hear the pout in his tone, but she refused to look at him.

When he didn't get more of a reaction from her, he stood, placing his palms on the wooden desk and leaning forward until he was completely in her vision, forcing her to look at him.

She blinked as he leaned in, flinching away as his face came within a few feet of her own.

"This isn't funny," she hissed, pushing off the desk and pacing across his office.

The moment was all too familiar, that sense of deja vu washing over her again, reminding her of the last time she'd stood in his office like this.

She'd just finished her Master's thesis and had been slogging through grading her student essays in the art history course she'd been teaching. Needless to say, she was stressed beyond belief. Foolishly, she'd sought the comforting joviality and advice of her favorite mentor. She knew she shouldn't—that their relationship had taken a turn lately, the playful touches had turned heavier, their lingering gazes growing more heated, but she'd grown to rely heavily on the other Professor's comforting presence in her life.

He was usually alone in his office, most of his students abandoning their fan-girlish notions by this point in the semester, leaving his office hours almost entirely undisturbed. So, when his door was slightly cracked, she hesitated in the hall. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, her hand lingering over the knob, his infectious laugh spilling out into the hall.

"Of course, Dr. Wen," He was talking to the dean on the phone… She pulled her hand away from the door.

"Our department would be lost without Miss Zhang, she's been a big help—and she's much nicer to the Freshman that I could ever manage." She sucked in a breath, what was he doing?

"Oh?" He paused, and even in the single syllable, she could hear the frustration in his voice. "I get that, but just another semester or two here would be alright, wouldn't it?"

Was he… trying to keep her from switching departments? Anger blurred her vision, her rationale thrown to the wind, as she pushed the door open. Rafayel jumped at the sudden intrusion, making quick excuses before hanging up the phone.

The rest of the afternoon had been a blur, her temper getting the best of her—though she was sure she was justified.

It still stung to think about.

Rafayel had proven himself to be very thoughtful in their time together, always giving the best compliments, the best gifts, but underneath there had been a dark selfishness waiting, one that had reared its head once again.

She blinked, bringing her mind back to the present and their problem at hand—one of his making.

She'd been glaring at him, not taking him in as she retreated into her own mind. Every muscle in her body was tight, her anger simmering just below the surface, ready to burst.

Something in him shifted, his confident stare wavering for just a moment, lips parting to let out a subtle, shaky breath.

His hands clenched into fists on the desk, his expression turning serious.

"You were ignoring my calls," he finally said. She hated the way his voice sounded, his overconfident facade slipping just a little, letting through the sensitive boy that hid just behind the mask he wore.

"I blocked your number," she said quickly, part of her relishing in the way he flinched at her tone, another part twinging in pain.

"My emails?" He said quickly.

"Straight to spam," she clipped, unmoving.

His gaze broke away from her, giving her the briefest moment of relief—a moment to stop, breath, and steady her resolve.

"Move the kids final," she said, no room for negotiations.

He didn't move, his eyes locked firmly on something just to the right of her.

She gave him another moment, her body stiff where she stood, knowing that if she allowed herself to relax, she might break.

"Good talk," she nodded, ready to leave and get this over with.

She tore her eyes from him, striding hurriedly toward the door.

The noise of his chair moving snapped her attention back to him just as she reached the door, his long legs bringing him to her quickly, his hand pressing against the door, blocking her exit.

"What do you think you're doing?" she recoiled, face twisting in disgust.

Hurt flashed across his features, just enough for her to catch it, a pang of guilt turning her stomach.

"Can we please talk about it?" He asked, not moving his hand from the door.

"No," she bit, hand twisting and pulling at the knob, a small grunt of frustration creeping past her lips as the door stayed closed.

When he didn't move out of her way, she twisted to face him—and god, he was so close.

She froze, eyes widening as they locked with his. His brow creased in pain and his expression filled with more remorse than she ever thought she'd see from him.

He let out a small breath, his expression turning pleading and soft, his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and she hated the way her eyes were drawn to them, the sinking feeling in her gut returning.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice just above a whisper, his usual playful and bratty tone gone.

She didn't move, standing frozen beneath his gaze, her heart torn between giving in and lashing out.

His lip trembled, the sight nearly enough to break her. "I didn't want to lose you…" He trailed off, his shoulders sagging as he slumped against the door. "And then I did just that."

She wasn't going to make it out of this room unscathed, she realized, her hand falling from the knob, her knees weak as she leaned against the door with him.

She pressed her temple into the wood of the door, her eyes closing momentarily, mind racing as she tried to rationalize what she was about to do.

He hadn't moved when she opened her eyes again. He waited for her to make the next move. She knew she should leave, push him off the door, and get the hell out of there…

Instead, she felt her hand rising up to his face, her fingertips brushing gently over the stubbled skin of his jaw. She took him in once again, mind no longer clouded by anger. He looked tired, his confident mask slipping to reveal a broken man beneath it.

His eyes fluttered closed at her touch, long lashes brushing against his cheek as his brow finally relaxed.

He leaned in to her touch, his own hand going to engulf hers, pressing her palm to cup his face.

She tensed at his touch, the urge to pull her hand away tearing through her—it was the rational thing to do. She should leave and end this here…

But she didn't.

Instead, she let her thumb glide across his cheek, drawing a small sigh from his lips.

"I missed you," he breathed out, his eyes remaining closed as his fingers slid between hers, grasping her hand and pressing her knuckles softly to his lips in a chaste kiss.

"I missed you too," the words spilled from her lips before she realized, regret and relief mixing inside her for a moment.

He finally opened his eyes again, his gaze cutting through any reservations she had left.

It felt natural, the urge to push herself up onto her toes and lean forward. So natural that she didn't realize she was actually doing it until his hands had come up to cup her face, his neck craning to close the distance between them.

"Miss Zhang, I know these sorts of thing are hard for you, but don't worry about it too much." Zhang Mei's supervisor, Dr. Xun, tried to console her.

Mei and Dr. Xun were like each other's antithesis, in a way. While they were both accomplished in their own rights, Dr. Xun had a commanding energy, one Mei tended to avoid. That type of presence was usually the kind to draw eyes, not just to themselves, but to those around them—and Mei much preferred when the attention was firmly somewhere else. However, over the years, Dr. Xun had proven to be a kind and accommodating ally for Mei during her time in the Student Accounting department of Skyhaven University.

Mei pressed her lips together, swallowing before trying to speak up for herself in the busy breezeway. "Are you sure there are accommodations?" She managed to get out, her supervisor leaning a little closer to hear her soft voice, doing her best to give her subordinate her undivided attention. She began to nod in acknowledgement, her perfectly painted, red lips parting to reassure Mei once again.

But her attention was pulled away, and Mei watched, hands clutching the clipboard she held in front of her tightly, as Dr. Xun caught a glimpse of someone passing and made quick steps away from her.

"Oh! Dr. Wen!" Dr. Xun called, her heels clicking on the concrete as she trailed after an older gentleman. She spared Mei one last look over her shoulder, mouthing encouragement and waving bye, before she disappeared into the crowd of faculty and staff.

Mei stood frozen for a moment, panic rising in her chest with the sudden loss of her safe person.

Briefly, she let her eyes close, forcing herself to take slow, deliberate breaths to calm herself down.

She focused on the tension in her shoulders and willed them to relax, moving next to her arms and hands, allowing her fingertips to glide over the clipboard's smooth surface and help brush away the stiffness in her body and mind.

Finally, she opened her eyes again, tearing her attention away from the crowd around her and instead focused on what she had in her hands. She pulled the clipboard up, flexing her fingers, feeling the burn in her joints from how tightly she had gripped the piece of plastic. On the clipboard was a neat stack of papers, the first of which being exactly what she needed.

It had her name and department at the top, followed by her assigned group for the their Professional Development Day, as well as their schedule of programs and trainings. In Dr. Xun's quick, easy to read handwriting, there were notes next to each time block; some of them scribbled out altogether, with an alternative program penned in. She couldn't help but smile when she noticed the tiny good luck! and the hastily scrawled thumbs up in the corner.

She could do this.

She nodded to herself, taking a deep breath before heading into the crowd: first on the agenda was her group's welcome seminar.

--

Xia Caleb's morning started as it normally would have—despite the expected deviations later in the day. He awoke at four, went for his morning run, showered, made a quick breakfast, and then checked his email before heading in to the office. He knew today would be a little different, with the students of Skyhaven University having an off day for the schools Professional Development Day. That didn't mean he was any less busy.

"First things first," their department head started after everyone had arrived at their 6:30am meeting. "I know you already have a lot on your plate today, but I've had an abnormal request from Dr. Xun."

At first, Caleb was content to not pay much attention to the meeting. He was already going over his schedule, making sure he had enough time to balance his normal duties with the extra load from the days activities. That was, until he heard a particular name mentioned.

"…Miss Zhang Mei, from Student Accounting." Caleb's ears perked at that, his eyes shooting up from his laptop screen to their department head. "So, if any of you would like to volunteer, that would make this a lot easier."

Next to him, Gideon groaned. "We're busy enough already and they want to put something else on our plate?"

"Wait, what did I miss?" Caleb asked, brows knitting together. Just at the mention of her name, he could feel his heart rate increasing.

Zhang Mei had been a name Caleb had listened out for many times over his last few years at Skyhaven Uni., though until now, he'd gone out of his way to stay out of her way. Fifteen years ago, she'd broken his heart—unintentionally, he knew that, but that hadn't made it sting any less—and that had been the last time he'd seen her. That was, until a year after he'd started working at SHU and took a class of his first year students over to the Student Services building during a campus wide scavenger hunt.

She'd been covering the front desk at the time, her cheeks heating at the sudden influx of students in their waiting room. He'd watched from the other side of the room, unsure if he should approach her, but decided against it when he realized it might just make her situation worse.

So, he'd done his best to hurry his students along, resigning himself to watching as she nervously tucked hair behind her ear, or gnawed at her bottom lip, while she stamped the student's scavenger hunt cards, as well as manged the students that were there for normal reasons.

He'd heard through the grapevine that had been the last time they'd asked Miss Zhang to cover the desk while their normal secretary took a long lunch.

"Apparently some admin lady needs some accommodations—which I understand, don't get me wrong—but why does the burden fall to us?" Gideon groaned, "and today of all days. Couldn't they just reschedule her assessment or something? I don't really get why we're having to pick up the burden of—wait what?" Gideon's complaining was interrupted as Caleb raised his hand in the air.

"I can work it in," Caleb said, the eyes of everyone in the room snapping to him as he volunteered—perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

"Mr. Xia," their department head acknowledged with a raised brow, "while I applaud the enthusiasm, don't you have to be over at the middle school around that time?"

Shit. Caleb glanced down to the open calendar on his laptop, looking at the block of time titled Skyhaven Middle School Practice, which ended only ten minutes before he'd need to be back to do the assessment. Even at a jog, the time it took for him to get back was around 20 minutes… but he wasn't the type to let something like that stand in his way.

"Don't worry about it," Caleb nodded confidently, "when have I ever let you down before?"

--

With Dr. Xun's extra notes on what she should do, the morning was a breeze. Her seat was exactly as described, the quick meal breakfast items orderly and easy to access with minimal interaction—this was fine.

Next was a presentation on ethics, followed by a seminar on the University's newest archival collection, then the lunch break.

Mei found her way back to the table she sat at for breakfast, eating her lunch quickly as she looked over the rest of the days schedule. So far, her schedule had mostly followed the same as the others in her group, but after this lunch…

She paused mid bite, anxiety twisting in her stomach as she read over the next few activities and Dr. Xun's notes.

This is new this year! She noted next to an emergency preparedness presentation.

Following this, you'll have to do to a small first aid demonstration for certification purposes, but I've arranged a private session for you. When the presenter leaves, head to room 128 and the other instructor should be waiting!

She exhaled a soft, worried 'oh' at reading that, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she began ruminating on having to meet up with some stranger and then have to do what? Mouth to mouth on a dummy? The thought brought color to her cheeks. This was going to be humiliating…

She shook her head, dismissing the thoughts. She shouldn't worry herself—Dr. Xun had gone through all the trouble of arranging this, and surely, surely, she'd picked a kind instructor that would be patient with her.

Regardless of what she told herself, the knot of anxiety still grew as she moved on with the day. Still, it was much more manageable that it would have been otherwise…

After the emergency preparedness presentation, she pushed through the throngs of people, her head light and nerves raw from the prolonged anxiety—life always felt so surreal when she got like this, like she was floating outside her own body. She was grateful when she reached room 128, opened the classroom door, and found the lab to be empty. The sigh of relief she let out felt phenomenal, the knot in her stomach immediately relaxed—she was free, if only for a moment.

She meandered into the room, the cool, still air felt great on her heated skin. She skimmed her fingers across the clean, metal lab tables, the cold touch sending a buzz up her arm, the sensation calming her to her core. She made her way over to the lab table with the equipment set up, careful not to touch anything too delicate, but taking the opportunity to examine everything to get an idea of what she would be doing.

There was a first aid kit, some clunky medical machinery, and an uncanny looking CPR mannequin. She couldn't help but stare at the mannequin, its weirdly smooth face and lifeless skin tone off putting—she really didn't want to have to do mouth to mouth on this thing….

Still, she was tempted to touch it, her finger prodding at the hard plastic of its cheek, following the seam on its face where the plastic met the rubbery material that made up the nose and mouth area. She grimaced at the texture—and good God, how many other people had had their mouths on this thing? It was probably gross.

--

"Coach Xia!" A kid yelled, the small group of middle-schoolers crowding to the edge of the soccer field, clinging to the fence as Caleb quickly threw his belongings into a duffel bag.

"Sorry, kiddos! I know we usually do a little more, but I gotta go somewhere important." He grinned at them, waving as they pouted and groaned. He turned to the assistant coach, a kid barely out of his teens, skilled at the sport, though not always excited to deal with the kids by himself. "Really, I am sorry about this." He apologized again as he slung the bag over his shoulder.

"Mr. Caleb!" One kid shouted extra enthusiastically, the use of his first name drawing his attention. "Are you going on a date?"

This line of questioning made the rest of the kids break out into giggles, some of them made gagging sounds, shouting how gross that was, while other cooed and proceeded to ask more questions.

Caleb didn't dignify the kids with a response, shaking his head at them and giving his assistant coach an exacerbated look.

He didn't expect the assistant to raise a brow at him, clearly wishing for an answer to the kids question. Caleb couldn't help but give a nervous chuckle, scratching at the back of his head.

"No, not really." He shrugged, "but maybe I will later." He followed hopefully.

"In that case," a teasing smile slid onto the assistant coaches lips. "Everyone wish Coach Xia luck on his date!" The assistant shouted, sending the kids into another round of excited yelling.

Caleb grimaced, "why would you do that?" He sent the assistant coach a pleading look. He only received a noncommittal shrug in response.

When he finally managed to leave the school, he had about seven minutes until he was expected to meet Mei. He slung his bag over his shoulder and broke out into a sprint. He was going to be a mess by the time he got there…

As he ran, he passed a pair of older women on a languid walk. It barely registered, but one of the women lifted up her sunglasses, head turning as he ran by. She gave a subtle whistle in his direction, her friend laughing and swatting at her arm.

…But maybe some women liked their men that?

--

Mei was ripped from her thoughts when the door to the lab opened suddenly. The rattling of the handle and someone's panting breath drawing a high, indignant squawk from her. She instantly felt her shoulders tense back up and her cheeks heated painfully. She quickly clasped her hands behind her back, turning quickly to face the newcomer. She stammered a quick apology and explanation, though her voice caught in her throat as she took a deep breath at the sight of who'd walked through the door.

"Sorry I'm late," he began, his breath coming out in huffs.

She felt the blood drain from her face instantly only for it to return in a rush as she stared at the man that had entered.

His own face was flushed slightly, his chest rising and falling in even, deep breaths, drawing her eyes to the way the white athletic shirt he wore clung to his defined pecs. She tore her gaze away, instead noticing the thin sheen of perspiration that clung to his skin, dampening his dark hair just enough that when he raised his arm and pushed it from his face, it stayed pushed back for just a moment. He was, for lack of a better word, hot—both literally and metaphorically—how had this somehow gotten worse?

And why did he look so familiar? This thought only exacerbated her anxiety—she was probably going to look rude now, not remembering who he was. She hoped that if they had met before, that he didn't remember her either. It was always better when she didn't leave any sort of memorable impression.

"I've been subbing in as soccer coach at Skyhaven Middle School—practice ran a little long today," he explained without missing a beat, closing the door behind him and making his way over to where the equipment lay. The closer he grew, the more she wanted to shrink away, but she remained rooted in place, even as he leaned back against the lab table, bracing his hands on the edge for support.

Her eyes trailed from those hands—long fingers gripping the edge of the table, the tendons in his arm flexing, drawing her eyes up to his muscled biceps, lingering just a little too long on the way the veins pushed against his skin, before snapping back to his face. His lips moved, but she hadn't caught what he'd said. He stared at her expectantly, head tilting minutely to the side as if he were waiting for a response.

"I—" she stuttered out, blinking away the confusion of her own making, she breathed deeply, and he seemed to wait patiently. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch what you said…" she said quickly, eyes cutting away from the small smirk that played on his lips, finding literally anything else to fix her gaze upon.

"Haven't changed at all, have you MeiMei?" She could hear the smile in his tone, the playful nature coming so naturally to him, how could he tease someone he just met so easily—

Then it hit her. Her wide eyes snapped back to him, "What did you just call me?" Her words came out in a rush, her nerves dying down to make way for her confusion.

"MeiMei?" He asked, a heart-melting smile on his face.

It was a common enough nickname, especially given her name, but she couldn't remember the last time someone had actually called her by it… except for Xia Caleb.

He tilted his head again, violet eyes twinkling with mischief, his tone suddenly turning in to mock offense. "I know its been a few years, but I didn't think you'd forget me that easily." He pouted, just a little, his bottom lip jutting out playfully.

"Caleb?" She gasped out, mouth agape, "What? When did you—?" She looked him up and down, he'd grown. A lot. Of course he had, but in her mind, he was still the lanky boy that lived on the same street as her over ten years ago.

--

They walked to school together everyday, usually meeting up at the corner before heading the rest of the way. Today was different, though.

Today was the day Caleb was going to tell MeiMei he liked her—not in the normal way. Not in the way that friends liked one another, but the serious way. The way that meant he wanted to walk with her every day, for the rest of their lives.

He'd gotten up at five, he'd been too nervous to sleep, and only picked at his breakfast that morning. His stomach knotted in anxiety, and of course, his Yeye had noticed. After only a little questioning, he'd told the old man his plan, which was why Caleb stood outside the gate to Mei's family home with his hair slicked back and cologne clinging to his school shirt.

It wasn't much, but he'd ran down to the grocery store the night before and bought the best looking discounted bouquet they had with the money he'd been collecting over the last few weeks.

He felt a little silly standing there waiting. Part of him worried their classmates would see him, figure out what he was doing, and tease her about it later. He'd beat them up if he had to, but Mei had never liked when he got into fights—especially on her behalf.

Finally, the door opened and Caleb straightened himself up, tugging at his clothes as he waited for the gate to open and Mei to come out.

Instead of Mei, her Popo stepped out. The elderly woman seemed in a rush, startling when she saw Caleb standing there, nearly dropping her keys.

"Caleb!" She exclaimed, clutching at her chest, and letting a small curse slip out under her breath.

"Sorry, Miss Zhang!" Caleb bowed, raising his head nervously to talk to the elderly woman. "I didn't mean to startle you, I was just waiting for Mei—she hasn't already left, has she?" He asked worriedly, peeking around the woman to look into the yard.

"Oh, honey," Miss Zhang sighed. "Did she not tell you? That strange girl—I told her she needed to tell you, but she was worried you'd be mad." The elderly woman mumbled something else under her breath.

Caleb's heart stopped. Had something bad happened? Was Mei alright?

"I guess there's no use beating around the bush about it—Mei has gone back to live with her mother." Miss Zhang shook her head. "I'm sorry she didn't tell you Caleb—I knew I should have let your Grandpa know about it too, but you know how persnickety little Mei can be about some things, and she asked me not to tell."

Miss Zhang rambled on a moment longer, but Caleb didn't hear a word of it. His face heated, his chest constricting, and breathing became hard—briefly, he thought he was dying. He knew there was the chance of coming here and her telling him she didn't feel the same way, but this? How could he have ever prepared himself for this?

His vision spun, his mind racing. He still had enough wits about him to look behind Miss Zhang again, to hope for just a moment this was a cruel trick, but that wasn't like Mei. She was soft spoken and kind—she'd never hurt him like that… But she was gone now, and it hurt so much, and how could she do this to him?

--

"I could ask the same, you know?" He teased, and she couldn't help but catch the way his eyes seemed to take her in, and she thought, just for a moment, his eyes lingering on her mouth, then her chest.

Her face heated again.

"I haven't changed that much," she said quickly, turning away from him, and crossing her arms over her chest. She placed her attention on the first-aid equipment instead of letting her eyes drift to him, trying not to think about the way his muscles flexed when he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

A small laugh left his lips. "Maybe not," he drawled out, turning as well, but letting his gaze linger on her for just a moment longer.

"Anyways," she brushed aside their conversation, her heart racing as the anxiety of having to demonstrate CPR to a stranger melted and was replaced by the indignation of having to do it in front of her childhood friend—who also happened to be hot. "We should probably get on with this, I have another presentation to attend soon."

She heard him shift beside her, moving to pick up the first-aid kit first. "I assume you paid attention in the demonstration then?" He asked, not missing a beat as he pulled out a few supplies.

"Of course." She always paid attention to things, which unfortunately was working against her as her eyes couldn't help but wander from those strong hands, up his arms, and to his broad chest again.

"This should be easy then," he noted, as he double checked everything.

She kept her head tilted down, not daring to face him fully again, looking through her lashes at the way his shirt shifted against his skin, as well as the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke.

He turned to face her, hand going to his hip, and her eyes snapped back to his. "I guess we should start with the easiest stuff first?"

Hesitantly, she nodded, her nerves from before rising as they got down to business.

He quickly named off some of the supplies, pointing to them in quick succession, but she couldn't help but notice the way his eyes mostly stayed on her. His bright violet gaze seemed to draw her in, her own eyes finding their way back to him, even as she tried to pay attention to both his words and what he was doing with his hands.

"Now some practical applications," he nodded at her, suddenly holding up his arm.

The abrupt movement startled her, and she took a half step back, blinking up at him. "What?"

"Lets see what you know," he said. "Lets say while visiting your office, I fell, and cut a big gash into my arm." He traced a line along his forearm. She couldn't help the small gulp as her eyes followed along, taking in the way those long fingers glided over his skin, bringing attention once again to the mesmerizing way he moved.

"Okay," she hesitated, eyes going back to his, searching for the answer he clearly wasn't going to give her.

"What do you do?" He asked.

"Call the emergency line," she said quickly, nodding in satisfaction to her quick answer.

The satisfaction faded quickly when he shook his head. "Of course, but lets say it'll take them thirty minutes to get there. In the meantime, I'm losing a lot of blood onto your office floor." He said, pushing some dramatic dissatisfaction into his voice.

"Oh," she mouthed, her eyes going to the supplies he had laid out. Right. She was here to perform fake first aid, of course that wasn't the answer.

Hesitantly, she reached for some supplies, hand hovering over the roll of bandages.

She spared hims a quick glance, judging his expression to see if she was going for the right thing. He gave a subtle nod, lips parting to encourage her, "sure." He looked back to the table, "but what else?" he asked.

Her hand hovered over a packet of ointment, glancing back at him again. He didn't give anything else away.

"Its bleeding a lot?" She asked, and he nodded.

"There will probably be blood stains in your carpet." He fake cringed, gripping the faux injured arm.

Her hand instead went to a roll of gauze. She picked both rolls up, looking at him expectantly.

"Now?" He asked, though she really would have preferred she was the one asking that.

She set the bandages down, opting to pull a length of the gauze off the roll. "I should…" she stepped forward, heart pounding in her chest as she did so. "Apply pressure to the wound?"

"Right," he reached forward with his free hand, fingers sliding over the back of her hand and guiding her to apply the gauze to his forearm. "Ideally, you'd want to use something clean like this that's not going to shed too much into the wound. In a pinch, you can use a paper towel, some sort of cloth, like a rag or even a sweater or some other clothing. If you don't have anything, you bare hands could work too, but that might limit your ability to provide further aid."

She barely heard any of what he said, her hands going into autopilot as the feeling of his touch lingered on her skin.

"If the patient is conscious, you can ask them to hold the cloth in place." He slipped his fingers under hers, lifting them from the gauze as he held it against his skin. "If they can't, you'll have to try to work quick to get the gauze in place and then secure it with the bandages." He nodded to the supplies on the table.

She followed his instructions, but even two handed, unrolling the bandages and beginning to wrap his arm turned out to be difficult. Her brow scrunched as she continued to wrap and the bandages folded, creasing oddly and didn't hold quite tight enough to keep the gauze entirely in place.

She chewed nervously at her bottom lip, her cheeks stinging from the flush that rose on her face. She didn't dare look up at him, humiliation at her inability to perform such a simple task taking over her.

But when he spoke, she didn't hear judgment in his tone. Instead, he patiently guided her, giving her tips that made the next wraps tighter, neater, and much more helpful looking.

She removed her hands from him quickly when she finished wrapping the fake wound, balling her trembling fingers up and holding them stiffly at her side.

"Not bad," he complimented, holding the arm up to inspect her subpar job. "There is room for improvement, of course, but no one gets things perfect on the first try."

Immediately, he began to unwrap the bandages, rolling them back up and then doing the same to the gauze.

"Here," he held out his hand and she finally met his gaze again, then glanced down at his outstretched palm. "Lemme see your arm," he gestured, "I'll show you how you can do it if your patient happens to be unconscious and can't help out."

Slowly, she raised her arm, heart jumping into her throat as he gently grabbed her elbow and held it.

He grabbed the gauze again, pressing the still warm cloth to her already heated skin with one hand. His hands were large, his fingers brushing up against her wrist while his palm pressed into the meat of her forearm near her elbow. His fingers were slightly calloused, but the feeling of them brushing against the soft skin of her wrist wasn't entirely unpleasant—quite the opposite, actually.

She stilled as a certain tension shifted from her stomach, instead, sliding lower, and she mentally berated herself for getting aroused so suddenly, and by such a slight caress no less.

He held his hand there, not seeming to notice the shift—though she wasn't sure it was something to be noticed, and she was thankful for that.

He grabbed for the bandages, keeping his hand firmly in place on her arm as he brought the roll up to his lips. They parted quickly, teeth biting at the edge of the roll, loosening it just enough to help him get the roll started.

Her stomach seemed to sink further at the sight. Her eyes lingered on his mouth, her own lips parting, tongue instinctively wiping over her suddenly dry lips. When her gaze flicked up to his, her breath caught in her throat. His eyes met hers, and, briefly, she thought that those bright violet eyes had darkened.

However he continued on, lifting a single finger to slip the free edge of the bandage under it, before quickly wrapping her arm.

The pressure around her arm was a bit uncomfortable, though she barely noticed it as his fingers seemed to continuously shift against her skin, each brush reminding her of the heavy feeling in her core.

"Like that," he said as he finished up, "you want it nice and snug. The pressure will help staunch the bleeding, hopefully keeping the patient from losing too much blood before the emergency responders get there."

Instead of moving his hand from her arm, it lingered. One hand encircled her wrist, the other tucked under her elbow, supporting her arm while his thumb gently ran over the neat lines of the bandages. The stretchy fabric and gauze damped the sensation a little, but she couldn't help but think of what it would feel like to have those thumbs running over other clothed areas of her body.

The sudden thought made her inhale quickly, his hand stilling as she began to pull her arm away.

"You okay?" Caleb asked, leaning, just a little, to meet her gaze.

"Of course," the words came out in a quick breath, her voice soft.

Concern briefly creased his brow, but he pulled his hands away. "I think you've got this well enough, we can move on to the CPR assessment."

Quickly, pulling his attention from her, he gathered the supplies back up, indicating to her to unroll the bandages and gauze and dispose of them. He set the first-aid equipment aside, pulling the CPR mannequin closer to the edge of the table and prepping to move on.

"So," he began, "CPR can be really physically taxing. Most likely, if there is an incident, the patient will be on the floor, which will give you a lot more leverage, but for now, we'll begin on the table, just to make demonstration easier. Recently, the University's health and safety department has mandated a certain amount of equipment be in staff areas and a certain number of staff be trained to use it." He placed his hand on the bulky electronic machine. "These will be in the break room, I'm sure they showed you where it was placed when they installed them a few months ago?" He asked and she nodded.

"Good, so, this is a portable AED," he quickly explained what the machine was used for and all the parts that came with it.

Briefly, the tension that had built moments before left, with Caleb focusing on instruction and her nerves calming.

He continued his demonstration, showing her how to lift the patients chin and use the provided bag and mask to administer air to the patient—explaining, that, thankfully, the use of mouth to mouth was outdated and rarely needed in most cases.

He then moved on to showing the proper way to give chest compressions. Only then did the the awkwardness that had slipped away fall back into place. Her eyes couldn't help but be drawn back to the way he moved, the way his muscles flexed with every press, and the way he made the movement look so effortless.

She appreciated Dr. Xun greatly for arranging something less crowded for her training… but why couldn't her instructor have been the spectacled old man that did the original presentation? Because now, she was focused on the entirely wrong thing, and her heartbeat was increasing for all the wrong reasons.

"Now you try it." Caleb's voice broke the daze she'd been in, and she blinked at him owlishly as she realized she hadn't heard the bit of whatever he'd been saying to her.

"Okay," she said as she looked between him and the mannequin, slowly moving to the side of the table. She spared Caleb another glance over her shoulder, hoping she remembered the steps correctly and wasn't about to make a fool of herself.

First, she checked for breathing and a pulse—of course there was nothing.

"Good, MeiMei; be quick, but make sure you know what you're working with before proceeding." When he complimented her, coupled with the use of the old nickname, she felt a sudden rush of want flood through her. Her hands stilled for a moment, a tremble running through her fingers at the feeling.

Where was all this coming from? Sure, Caleb had grown into an attractive man, but still, this was a bit much… Had feelings like this been there before? She chewed at her bottom lip, thinking back. That time of her life had been hard, to say the least. Mostly, she'd tried to forget about it. Leaving her Popo had been a lot, with the trauma of living with her mother and new step-dad nearly unbearable…

She shook the thoughts away, balling her hands together for just a moment before moving on.

She moved forward, her hips bumping into the edge of the table as she focused on the CPR mannequin. Her hands hovered over the chest before she settled them against the cold, hard plastic sternum. She pressed down, a small grunt leaving her lips at the effort it took to do a single compression.

"Here," Caleb said just behind her, his hand gently brushing her elbow, drawing the breath from her lungs as she stilled. "It's easier if you do it like this."

She felt him move behind her, the warmth of him engulfing her as his arms came around her. His strong hands plucked at her much smaller ones, his fingertips brushing softly over her skin as he repositioned them.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt him lean a bit forward, his solid chest coming into contact with her back, his soft breathing ruffling her hair. He overlapped his hands on hers, giving a gentle press to encourage her to try again.

"Now, press as hard as you can."

His voice was so near, startling an inaudible gasp from her lips. Instead of doing as instructed, she quickly looked up, his proximity too overwhelming to focus on the task at hand.

The crown of her head pressed into his chest as she blinked up at him, his face only a few inches from her own. She expected him to pull away, to realize she couldn't focus on doing chest compressions at a time like this. Instead he shifted around her. His gaze met hers, those bright violet eyes seeming to darken again and she felt his chest rise as he took in a deep, slow breath.

In the stillness of the room, she could hear his own heart beating hard in his chest, the rhythm matching the excited pace of her own.

Slowly, his hands shifted over hers, moving from engulfing them, to sliding up her wrists. An involuntary shiver ran through her and she couldn't help but notice the way his nostrils flared nearly in-perceptively, his pupils dilating.

She found herself trapped, his arms all but encircling her, his body caging her against the lab table… and she didn't hate it. Rather than her anxiety rising and telling her to flee to the safety of somewhere solitary, she felt her hands lifting from the mannequin, briefly bracing on the edge of the cold metal edge of the table, her back pressing further against his chest.

"Do you think…" He finally said, his voice low, hesitation in his tone, "that it would be okay for me to kiss you?"

--

Mei sat on the floor of her room, hands pressed against the doorframe to brace herself. She squinted out the small gap of her door, watching as her Popo brought out tea and some sweets for their guests.

Her mother was back in town, but this time, she brought a friend. It was a man. He looked much older than her mother, with lines already creasing his skin and his hair more gray than black. The two of them sat side by side, the man's hand on her mother's knee, giving it a gentle squeeze as her Popo sat down.

"We got married," her mother stated quickly, the man nodding along. "And we have a nice house now, its close to the good schools in Linkon—I want Mei to come live with us."

Mei couldn't believe her ears. She pushed away from the door, closing her eyes tightly, and pressing her palms to her ears before returning to peek out at the adults.

"I won't stop you…" her Popo said slowly, the old man nodding like she'd answered their unspoken question correctly.

"I don't think she'll like it though," her Popo kept going, her mother's brow creasing.

"What will there be not to like?" Her mother asked, defensively.

"She's a soft girl," her Popo explained, "she's not going to like the bustle of the city. It took her so long to make friends here—she's going to be lonely."

"It will be good for her," the man interrupted, "she'll learn more about how life really is in the city. Here in the country, she's barely even learning properly at school. She needs to socialize more." Her mother agreed.

Mei pushed away from the door again, crawling over to her bed. Emotions rose in her throat, breathing felt hard, her chest felt tight. She was going to have to leave? She felt her entire body tremble at the thought, her breath catching, eyes becoming bleary with tears as she her mother and the strangers words set in.

She couldn't leave.

She pressed her lips together, hands rubbing at her eyes. She heard movement in the other room, her mother calling her name. Panic seized her. She couldn't leave her Popo. She couldn't leave her school. She couldn't leave Caleb.

She scrambled, pushing herself fully to the floor and crawling under her bed, letting the darkness envelop her and keep her safe.

"Mei?" her mother called again, the door to her room opening.

Three pairs of feet flooded in, Mei breathed heavily—they'd hear her. They'd find her and take her away. She clamped her hands over her mouth and nose, choking back the sob that threatened to sound.

"She's probably outside," her Popo reasoned. "Maybe she's down the street at the Xia's house—she spends a lot of time there."

"Mr. Xia?" Her mother asked, sounding a little offended. "You let her go off to that old man's house alone? Mother, how could you?"

"She's friends with his grandson—he's a kind old man, you know that. Little Caleb is her best friend, and he's a good boy." Her Popo defended.

"Still, she's a growing girl, Mother, you should keep a better eye on her." Her mother turned, her and the man leaving the room. She heard the front door open and close, but her Popo stayed in the room.

Slowly, her Popo came to the edge of the bed, letting out a grunt of pain as she got down on her knees and lifted the blanket that hung over the edge. "I'm getting too old to get you from under here." Her Popo said softly, her kindly old eyes searching for Mei in the darkness.

Mei's voice came out shaky when she spoke, her sob finally breaking through. "I don't wanna go," she cried, her arms outstretching, reaching for her Popo, who pulled her out from her hiding place with a feeble groan.

"I know, Mei," her Popo pressed a kiss into her hair. "But it'll be okay, we'll see if you can come back during the summer—surely your Mother would let you do that."

"I don't wanna just come back for the summer—I don't want to leave!" Mei sobbed, her voice muffled as she buried her face in her Popo's shoulder.

Her Popo rubbed her back gently, trying her best to calm the crying girl, but Mei's sobs only grew. She didn't want to leave her Popo behind, to have to make new friends, or keep new bullies at bay. Who would keep her safe? Who would walk with her to school every day? Or hold her hand when the weather got bad?

How could she tell Caleb that she couldn't be his friend anymore?

--

"What?" She heard herself breath as she blinked up at him, too stunned to articulate the resounding yes her subconscious screamed inside her head.

Something flashed over his face—regret, maybe?—and panic rose in her chest as his fingers began to lift from her wrists, the warmth of his chest pulling away from her.

"Wait!" She blurted, pushing at the table and using the leverage to turn herself in his arms. He stilled, his hands bracing on the table, its edge pressed into her backside. He was still so close, the realization of their proximity when face-to-face nearly overwhelming, pushing the words she wanted to say back down her throat.

"That wasn't—" she started, hating the way her voice wavered as she looked up at him. His gaze held hers—steady and expectant—his lips parting slightly, waiting and ready to pounce at her word.

Another breath and she got the words out, "It wasn't a no," she said quickly, a flush rising to her face as the corner of his mouth lifted, the smirk on his face making her stomach flip in excitement.

"But was it a yes?" He asked, leaning just a little closer, forcing her hands, which were pressed between them, to shift, her palms flat against his solid chest.

"Yes," the word came out as a whisper, barely leaving her lips before she felt his fingers under her chin, tipping her face up a little more, and leaning to close the distance between them.

At first, she wasn't sure she was registering what was going on right. Surely, surely, she wasn't standing in a university classroom being kissed—and certainly not by a man she hadn't seen in years.

When his lips shifted against hers, their chaste kiss slipped away, replaced by something heavier, and altogether hotter, she was certain this was real—this was actually happening.

Her hands splayed across his chest, slipping up from the defined muscles of his pecs to his equally developed traps. She pushed herself up on her toes, his free hand pressing into the small of her back, bracing her against his body as he deepened their kiss.

She'd been kissed before—from soft, hesitant kisses at the start of a new relationship, to the heavier, needier kisses during the most intimate moments. But this? It felt different.

There was something desperate about the way his lips slanted against hers, the way his hand cupped her cheek, holding her steady while his lips parted, tongue slipping out to coax her lips to part for him. She gave in instantly, a small moan slipping past her lips as his tongue slipped into her mouth, the soft muscle pressing into her own.

She lost herself for just a moment, floating headily through the feeling of his body against hers, the taste of his lips, and the smell of sweat that clung to his skin.

Then, a moment later, and he parted from her. Her hands unwound themselves from the fabric of his shirt, their bodies pulling apart just a fraction, the loss of his warmth instant. With the sudden loss of his touch, her feet fell back to the ground, her eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him in a mix of awe and confusion.

Her heart hammered in her chest at the sight of him, a bright smile on his face, cheeks a ruddy red. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

--

It hadn't been his intention to kiss her, not yet at least. He knew he was taking things too far when he boxed her against the table, her soft warmth caressing his skin—it took a lot to control himself, especially at the feel of her soft backside against his thighs.

He was just here to do a job, that was all, he told himself. But he let his touch linger on her skin anyway, suppressing the need to drag his fingers up higher, to feel the soft skin of her arm again, or to encircle her in his arms and pull her fully against him.

He'd found his resolve, somehow, hands and mind focused on instructing her.

Until she looked up at him.

He felt that thread of resolve break, her eyes wide, looking up at him innocently, but with an unmistakable question in them—what next? He should have interpreted it as something professional, as if she were asking for guidance on the next step of chest compressions, but he wasn't level headed enough to trick himself into believing that.

But he made himself begin to pull away, or he tried to. His touch lingered on her skin, drawing a shiver from her, and a hitch in her breath.

He wanted to lean down and kiss her right then and there, but that would probably scare her away—and rightfully so. And what if she didn't want it? Would she be able to push him away? She'd always been so timid, so hesitant to push back against anything the world threw at her. All those years ago, he'd helped her with that, helped her tell the older kids to leave her alone, tell the teachers she couldn't take on any more afterschool duties, helped her come out of her shell and stand her ground—even if he'd had to hold her hand while she did it.

He couldn't start taking choices away from her now, not when he'd just gotten the chance to have her back in his life.

The words left his mouth without thinking, the shocked expression that flooded her features enough to draw a panic through him. He should have left it alone, let her get through this hurdle, and let them get to know each other again.

He began to pull away again, but stopped when she blurted for him to wait, turning in his arms to face him.

The urge to slink his arms back around her, to pull her flush to him was overwhelming, but he pushed it aside, his heart hammering in his chest as he let her speak.

"It wasn't a no," her voice was so soft, so low it was almost inaudible, but her meaning was clear. Still, he wanted to hear her say it.

He couldn't help the excitement that crept into his tone, "but was it a yes?" He drawled, leaning just a little closer, fingers itching to touch her.

Her hands on his chest just about drove him wild. He wanted to know what they felt like roving over the rest of him, pulling at his clothes, sliding over his skin—he was so lost in thought he barely heard her answer.

The soft yes coaxed him on, his hand instantly raising to brush along her jaw, resting just below her chin and tilting her head back. He descended on her without another moment to spare, taking it slow at first, feeling the tension in her lips melt away the longer his lips rested against her own.

But his touch quickly turned desperate, his grip on her chin tightening as his lips moved against hers. His tongue slinked out, pressing against the seam of her mouth, needing to taste her.

She pressed up against him further, her hands gliding over his chest, and he clung to her for dear life. His hand clutched at her back, bracing her against him, his fingers finding their way from her chin to her cheek, cupping her face and holding her steady as his lips and tongue explored her mouth.

He couldn't believe this was happening, and had to try hard to keep himself from going further, the small noises that escaped her lips driving him mad. He felt his cock twitch in his pants, the sudden friction of her pressed against him enough to snap him from the trance her lips had put him in.

Fuck, he grunted to himself, parting from her with a deep inhale. He let her slip off of him, his hands loosening from her and he took a small step back—God he hoped she hadn't noticed. He could still salvage this.

Her face was flushed, her lips already puffy from their kiss—and he wanted to dive back in, pull her against him again and delve deeper.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he finally breathed out, forcing a smile onto his face. And so much more… he wanted to follow it up with.

He was going to leave it here, get back to business, and not rush her any more than he already had. But she stayed clung to him, her eyes glazed with desire as she looked up to him.

"Really?" She whispered, his eyes drawn to the movement of her lips.

He gave the smallest nod, swallowing as his resolve began to break again.

Her tongue slipped from between her lips, wetting her lips as her gaze fell to his. They parted again, trembling as she spoke. "Would you…" she hesitated, and he felt his cock twitch again at the way her heady gaze met his, "would you do it again?"

He didn't respond with words, instead, he closed the distance between them. He grunted as she pressed flush against him once more, the friction of her stomach against his hard cock too much to bare—there was no way she hadn't noticed now.

She didn't push him away, choosing instead to wind her arms around his neck and pull him into a deeper kiss. She took more of a lead this time, her touch no longer as shy, her tongue meeting his in sloppy, wet kisses.

His hands found her waist, gripping and lifting her with ease, resting her on the lab table, earning a small gasp from her as he moved himself between her legs.

He never imagined this would actually be happening. He'd thought about what it would be like when they finally met again, when she realized he'd been there all this time—at the same gym, the same lunch room, waiting at the same bus stop. He'd lingered just outside her vision for so long. He waited and had been patient, but never had the time seemed right. She'd always been too busy, too anxious, or with too many other people.

He'd be lying if he'd said he hadn't fantasized about this, though. If she had bumped into him outside the gym and realized who he was, saw that his feelings for her still lingering beneath the surface after all this time. What he'd do if she returned those feelings. His mind had taken him down all kinds of roads, some soft and slow, others hot and heady—too much like this one. This all felt like a dream.

"Caleb," he felt her whine against his lips and he realized he'd stilled, lost in thought for far too long. But his hesitation allowed her to take the lead, her hands tangling in his hair, keeping him anchored against her.

"Sorry, MeiMei," he muttered, his lips pressing to the corner of her mouth, relishing in the small whimper that left her parted lips at the use of the nickname.

He planted hot, open mouth kisses along her jaw, her head tilting to the side to give him better access to her throat. His hands slid up her waist, fingers finding the edge of her shirt, slipping under the hem of the fabric and caressing over her soft sides.

She arched her back at his touch, her chest pressing further into his. He felt the low moan that escaped her just as much as he heard it in his ear, the needy sound encouraging him to do more.

Still, he didn't want to push her more than she could take, pressing a kiss just below her ear and whispering. "Do you want me to keep going?" He asked, punctuating the sentence with soft, fleeting kisses.

"Don't stop," was all she could manage out, her chest heaving as she lifted her legs, her soft thighs wrapping around his hip, pulling his clothed, twitching cock straight to her core.

He didn't need any more encouragement than that, his mouth moving down her neck, tongue lapping at her heated skin, lips sucking gently on her soft flesh—careful not to leave any marks. His hands snaked upwards, fingers meeting the edge of her bra, pushing teasingly at the elastic. His hand splayed across her ribs, relishing the feeling of the rise and fall of her every breath.

His touch clearly drove her wild, the small sounds from her lips growing more frequent, less controlled. He would do anything to keep hearing them.

But it was her turn to tease him, her hips rolling to meet his, the friction against his cock enough to make him stutter, his kisses faltering for just a second.

Were they really going to take is this far? He thought as he breathed her in, torn between pulling away and picking this up elsewhere or leaning in to devour her completely.

The decision was made for him when he realized her hands had snaked down his chest, gripping at the edge of his shirt, tugging it up.

He parted from her just enough to get the fabric over his head, his fingers itching to reach back under her shirt and resume their exploration. He tugged at her hem as well, pulling her blouse over her head with ease, pausing for a second, taking her in.

She seemed to be doing the same, and he couldn't help but feel a moment of vain pride as her hands met his hard stomach, fingers following the seams of his abs down to the lines that peeked from his pants. Her gaze met his and he knew there was no turning back now.

He leaned back in, his lips meeting hers. Her hands tangled back into his hair, tugging and pulling soft moans from him.

His fingers met her ribs again, caressing for just a moment before finally slipping under the elastic of her bra. He pushed the fabric up, fingers sinking into her soft breasts, rough fingers glancing over her stiff nipples.

She moaned into their kiss, arching into him again. He relished the weight of her breasts in her hands, committing the feel of them to memory before he removed his hands. He slid them around her back, quickly undoing her bra and letting it fall away.

He pulled her flush against him, their heated skin meeting, the feel of her soft breasts sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock. She rocked against him, needy noises leaving her lips as she ground her clothed cunt against him. Her hands left his hair, going to fumble with the waistband of his pants.

He stopped her, his hand engulfing hers, and his heart almost broke when he pulled back and caught the pout on her face. In truth, there was little more in this world he wanted right now than to have her pull his cock from his pants, to feel her soft hands pumping over his length, to press himself inside her and fuck nearly two decades worth of longing into her. At that moment, he feared she'd get him out of his pants and he wouldn't last much longer than that—and where was the fun in that?

Instead, he brought her hands to rest on his chest, his hands going to work at the button of her pants, loosening them and slipping a hand inside her panties.

She was already so wet—it was painful to not be able to sink his cock into her waiting cunt, to feel the tight pull of her core around him. She jolted as his fingers slid over her clit, easily gliding between her hot fold, finding the tight little bundle of nerves quickly. She clung to him as he gave her clit a quick circle, drawing a moan out of her, needy pleas reaching his ears and begging him to do more.

He pushed his hand further into her pants, palm cupping her cunt as a single finger found her core. She bucked into his hand, his finger slipping into her opening with ease, her walls fluttering around the digit as he sunk into her, knuckle deep.

His palm pressed just over her clit, moving with small, even pressure as he let his finger explore her core.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her voice coming out in a whisper as she begged him to keep going. "Caleb—" she drew out his name, the sound of it on her lips enough to drive him wild. He wanted to give into her demands, but he wanted to prolong this and enjoy the feeling of her against him just a little longer.

He lifted the heel of his hand, pulling his finger from her core for the briefest moment.

"Wait," she gasped out, voice shaking from the sudden loss of him.

"Don't worry, MeiMei," he pressed a kiss to her temple, "I won't let you get away from me again."

--

MeiMei.

Fuck. How could he keep calling her that at a time like this? All this time had passed, everything was different, and yet, somehow it was the same. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought they'd end up like this, though.

Any coherent thoughts she had were ripped from her when she felt him shift his hand against her cunt, two fingers probing at her entrance this time. She couldn't help but roll her hips into his hand, his fingers gliding inside of her, flexing and stretching her walls.

His fingers were so long, reaching much deeper than hers ever could, curling in her just right, pressing into an especially sensitive spot and forcing a moan from her lips. She felt his chest swell beneath her hands, his breaths deep and labored in her ear.

"You'll need to be a little quieter," he said softly, his lips pressing to the junction just below her ear, trailing softly up her jaw. "I don't think I locked the door."

She expected panic to rise in her chest at the realization, but the idea of getting caught—along with the heel of his hand pressing into her clit—only made her core clench tighter around his fingers. Fuck. That shouldn't have turned her on as much as it had.

Another mewl of pleasure threatened to escape her, but he silenced it with his lips on hers. He took the moment to slip another finger into her, the stretch burning so good her vision went white. She whimpered into his mouth, his kisses swallowing them whole, their lips parting in wet, heated gasps.

He pumped his fingers inside of her, his mouth breaking from hers for a moment, going back to her ear. He swallowed and spoke, voice low and slow, "I've gotta make sure I'll fit MeiMei—be patient."

She was already so close, the pressure on her clit just right, his fingers curling into her and pulling a gasp from her lips. His low tone was just he icing on the cake—a whine ripped through her, her hands leaving his shoulders, fingers digging into his forearm as her orgasm wracked through her, keeping his hand steady. Her body jolted at every movement of his fingers, the overstimulation while she rode out her orgasm overwhelming.

He silenced her moans with another deep kiss, his lips shushing her softly, as he talked her through her climax.

He cursed under his breath, his chest rising and falling to meet hers as she eased up her grip on his arm. His touch remained a moment longer, his long fingers curling inside her one more time, flexing and stretching her walls before finally retreating.

The loss of him was instant, her walls clenching around nothing, the empty feeling overwhelming and drawing a needy sob from her. "Caleb," his name slipped off of her tongue instantly, the want in her tone palpable, "wait—" she begged, "I need you."

But he wasn't going anywhere, his hand only leaving her to return to her waist, fingers digging into her skin as he lifted her from the table. "Here," he said softly, her unsteady legs supporting her just enough for him to push at the waistband of her pants.

She helped as much as she could, kicking her shoes off and stepping out of her pants when he got them to her ankle. He lifted her again, a gasp tearing out of her as her ass met the edge of the cold, metal table. The sensation was quickly replaced, though, his hands pushing down his elastic waistband and finally freeing his cock from the confinement of his pants.

Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, she wasn't sure if she breathed the world out loud or not. That was what he meant when he said he needed to make sure he'd fit.

He slipped back between her trembling legs, a hand going to caress over her soft thigh as he settled himself against her core. He didn't press into her just yet, taking a moment to pull her to him, her breasts squishing into his chest, the rhythm of their breaths matching as he tilted her face to meet his.

He kissed her languidly, his lips moving deliberately over hers, his tongue tasting her slowly before he parted again. The head of his cock poked at her lower stomach, the shaft pressing against her naked cunt—hard and warm and twitching with every movement between them.

Still, he took his time, kisses traveling down her jaw one more time. His hand caressed up her thigh and to her hip, squeezing her flesh and holding her steady against him, stilling her rocking hips.

"Give me a second," his voice came out deep, almost strained, "let me savor this."

She did as he asked, willing herself to let him continue to take the lead, his hands exploring her body once again. Her breaths came out in soft pants, low moans falling from her mouth as he caressed her waist, his thumbs running rough over her ribs, his palms moving to cup her breasts again.

His head lowered, his kisses falling down her collar bone. He pressed her breast together, his lips leaving a soft, wet trail over the raised fat of her cleavage. He ran his fingers over her nipples, his calloused finger-pads drawing a shiver from her, just before he moved his hands out of the way and took a pert nipple into his mouth.

Her hands anchored themselves in his hair, holding him to her chest, moans falling from her lips as he laved the little bud with his tongue. His hands kneaded her all the while, his lips moving from one breast to the other, blowing gentle puffs of air over the tracks of saliva he left behind.

He sucked hard on the supple flesh of her breast, not being so careful anymore, tongue lapping over the patch of reddened skin he left behind.

"Now," he said, voice rough with need, as he raised his head. He kissed her one more time on the lips, disentangling her from his hair as he pulled back, just a little. "Are you still ready?" He asked, his hand leaving her, instead going to grip his cock, the swollen tip finally brushing against her sopping wet opening.

"Yes," she exhaled.

--

He didn't waste anymore time, the tip of his cock pressing into her, the head alone stretching her and earning him a soft mewl of pleasure from her. God, she was so tight around him. His head dropped to her shoulder, eyes unfocused, but locked on to where their bodies met.

She was divine—better than he had imagined, and boy had he imagined this. A lot.

He pushed himself in further, only pausing when the noises from her shifted, the pleasure mixing with a pinch of pain. He almost started to pull back, but she raised her legs, hooking them around his hips, locking him into place.

"Please, Caleb," she moaned into his ear. Those words alone were enough to wash away any of his doubts, but she kept going. "I need to feel you deep inside, of me, please, Caleb."

Did she know? Know how crazy her words were drove him? He thought, briefly, that maybe the shy, timid Mei everyone else knew was a facade. But then again, it had always been like this, hadn't it? She was quiet and distant with everyone else. But with him? She could be herself—she could be loud, and needy, and selfish. Nothing much had changed. He'd always give her what she needed.

He was thankful for how wet she was, it made the next move easy, even if it drew another gasp of pain from her lips. He pressed deeper, his hips snapping against hers, his cock burying itself deep inside her fluttering walls.

"Fuck," he ground out, "Mei, you feel so good." His words came out in pants, his breaths syncing up with her small gasps.

He stilled again, lips finding hers, as he let her adjust to the girth of him.

Her lips trembled against his, the feeling of her ragged breaths sending a pang of guilt straight to his heart—he should have gone slower, prepped her better—but all thoughts were ripped from his mind as she rolled her hips against him.

That was all the encouragement he needed, his hips moving reflexively, pulling his length most of the way from her before pumping back into her. The needy walls of her cunt nearly sucked him in, the pressure making his head lull down to her shoulder, mouth pressing into the crook of her neck as he fucked into her again.

He could tell, from the way her walls fluttered around him and her soft pants in his ear, she was enjoying this too—though perhaps not as much as he was. It took a lot to keep going, his rhythm interrupted with every pulse of her cunt, his balls already threatening to tighten and spill inside of her.

He couldn't, not yet, he'd waited too long not to draw this out.

He stilled again, hand slinking between them. His thumb found her clit, a single brush of it had her walls clenching around him. He grunted, stomach tightening as it took all of his willpower to keep from burying himself all the way inside of her and painting those gummy walls white with his seed.

"Wait," she whined, panic in her voice as he drew circles over the sensitive little bud. It wasn't long, him sealing off her pleas and whines with his lips, until she came again.

She convulsed around him, her core milking him for all he was worth. She still fluttered around him when he pumped into her again, his breaths heavy and labored, as he finally let himself bury his cock deep inside of her and find his release.

He shuddered with the strength of his orgasm, moan catching in his throat. He hunched over, burying his face in her chest, breaths coming out ragged and uneven as stars clouded his vision.

Reality seeped back slowly, the gentle touch of her hand in his hair soothing him and pulling him back from the daze of his orgasm.

"Caleb?" her voice was soft in his ear, questioning and hesitant.

He raised his head, eyes meeting hers, clearer than they had been all day. "Yes, MeiMei," he said softly, letting their bodies linger against one another, resting his forehead against hers.

"Was it…" she began, biting at her lip, nerves tinting her tone. "Was it good?"

He almost groaned in response. Was it good?

She was going to be the death of him.

--

She couldn't make her heart stop racing.

Had they really just done that? She blinked, watching as he pulled his shirt back on. They had—as evident by the soreness between her legs and the pile of napkins he'd used to clean her up.

He'd apologized profusely while he wiped the dribble of cum from between her legs, his hands forcing her knees apart as she insisted that she could get it herself.

Her face stung at the thought of it—because somehow, that had been the most embarrassing part of all of this.

He'd cleaned her up, helped her dress, and given her another quick kiss before he moved on to righting himself. It was… just like him, she thought, heart twisting as memories from all those years ago came rushing back.

"Alright, Mei." He finally turned back to her, "we should probably get the rest of this over with—I think you're gonna be late to your next presentation as is."

"Wait, what?" her mouth fell open, brows knitting as she looked from him to the CPR mannequin. "You're still going to make me do the assessment? After that?" The pitch of her voice rising with offense.

"Well," he scratched the back of his head, eyes cutting away from her sheepishly, "I hope you didn't have sex with me just to get out of your training." He hesitantly met her gaze, the implication of what she'd said not hitting her until he spelled it out.

"Oh," her face drained, the shame of even suggesting such a thing too much to bare. "No, of course not," she defended, hastily, "I'm sorry—that's not what I meant—I just…" She fidgeted in place as she tried to find the right words to explain her worries.

He smiled anyways, joining her beside the lab table once again. He touched her elbow softly, turning her to face the table—she let him.

"It would be negligent to not finish," he explained, his arms wrapping around her middle, pulling her back to his chest, just like before. "But don't worry about it too much," he said next to her ear, pressing a light kiss to her temple, "I'm right here to show you the way."

Thank you for reading!

He hadn't always been a Knight of her personal guard. Before him, there was another—though their relationship was vastly different. Her former Knight was much more like a father, despite the fact that she already had one. He was like a father from the storybooks her nurses read to her when she was young—always kind, doting on her incessantly, and letting her tag along even when she knew she was just getting in his way.

For Caleb he was much the same. He was his apprentice and squire, their connection to the man always putting them in one another’s proximity. 

Caleb was not yet a man when they met, but she'd known from their first meeting that he was going to be something special.

He had arrived at the gates of the barracks on a cold winter night, almost as if he'd appeared from thin air. She had been up past her bedtime, sneaking off to find her Knight for one last bedtime story.

She was still just a girl then, womanhood still far out of her grasp. 

She had been in awe when she saw him, overhearing his conversation with her Knight, learning he was just a few years older than her, but already had wisdom of this world that she knew her status would never allow her to gain.

Still, she managed to learn a few things she shouldn’t have. Like when she was just eighteen and he just twenty-two, when only moments after his knighting—after the crowds had dissipated and she’d fled to the garden to get some fresh air—he found her.

Before she could even congratulate him, he was on his knees. He raised his sword, presenting it to her on his upturned palms, much like in the ceremony. His eyes were pools of quavering midnight—they drew her in, made her feel as if there were nothing else in the world but the two of them in that very moment. 

“For you, Princess…” he began, a slight tremble in his voice—an entirely odd thing, seeing as nothing had ever made him display such fear before. “For you I would lay down my life—protect you at all costs, for I have no other purpose in life but to offer this to you.”

She was taken aback to say the least, but with him there, on his knees before her, wanting nothing more than to please her, to make use of himself, to submit—

She picked up the sword, mimicking the motions from the ceremony. She raised it slowly, not used to the weight of such a thing in her hand, and brought it gently down onto his shoulder.

“You would protect me with your life?” She finally said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he breathed, lips quivering just slightly as he spoke.

Again, she raised the sword, moving it to his other shoulder.

His chest swelled with anticipation, and perhaps pride—she was accepting him, in a way, pushing through a boundary and morphing their relationship into something entirely new, something dangerous. At that time, she couldn't have imagined naming what they were doing—that realization would come later; but she too felt the anticipation of the moment swell in her chest.

She could feel the flush in her cheeks, her tongue darting out to wet her suddenly dry lips. She wondered if he felt the same, wishing the moonlight would reveal more of him, but she stayed focused on his eyes, relishing in the way they never so much as flinched or darted away from hers.

An acute feeling of power rushed though her as the blade of the sword rested on his shoulder. 

To many, she was still a girl—and there was no denying that before her kneeled what was wholly a man—yet she couldn’t help but be aware that she now held his life in her hands. She had the power to raise him up, make him great, break him…

She shifted her grip on the sword, letting it slide across his shoulder, inching closer and closer to the exposed skin of his neck.

He did not move, not until the cool edge of the sword made contact with his flushed skin.

He flinched, but only slightly.

His lips parted, breath catching in his throat. The smallest noise left him, a ghost of a whimper.

She thought she should have anticipated the way it made her feel, she thought she knew herself well, but before her was opening up a world she could have never even conceptualized.

She sucked in a breath, lungs stinging and chest suddenly tight—and despite this, she did not hesitate in her next move. She pressed the blade deeper, letting the cold edge of steel bite into the warm, tanned skin at the apex of neck and shoulder.

“Would you throw your life away for me?” She asked, tilting her head ever so slightly, her eyes fixated on where blade met skin.

She was surprised at the confidence in her voice, which was juxtaposed to the tremble of anxiety she felt in her gut. More so, she was elated at the way his reply left his lips. 

His voice was raw—needy. “Yes,” he breathed, leaning ever so slightly forward, letting the blade slide across his skin.

He did not flinch as he did, despite the way the steel slid over his delicate skin. Or the way a drop of red beaded against the sword edge, suspended between cold steel and warm skin.

“Yes,” he said again. His brow creased, eyes begging for her to look not just at the blade or the blood that he was eager to spill for her, but at him.

She met his eyes again, and for the first time since he’d come to her, she felt something akin to fear.

She was not afraid of him—he would never hurt her, never make her unhappy, or even the slightest perturbed. 

No, she was afraid of the feelings that arose inside her. 

Afraid of the need to press the sword in harder, draw more blood, feel it under her fingertips. The need to make him whimper, make him beg. To hurt him, soothe him, and do it all over again.

They were not ladylike thoughts.

She stilled, holding her breath, clearing her head.

She pressed her free hand into her stomach, hoping to calm the cacophony of butterflies that roiled there.

His brows creased further, worry etching into his features.

“Princess?” He whispered out, trembling hand raising from his knees, extending to her—begging for her attention.

The butterflies did not cease, but she had a moment of clarity nonetheless.

Slowly, she pulled the sword from his skin, her face painfully neutral as she focused on the task at hand.

Something in his expression changed as she did so, an air of disappointment and fear washing over him.

But she pulled the sword away, letting it hang limp by her side.

“You…” she began sternly, regally. “You are my Knight,” she finally said, “and to you, I entrust my life.”

Her words washed away the fear from his expression, he dared to inch forward, hands still outstretched, reaching for something—though neither knew what.

The sword slipped from her grip, falling forgotten with a small thump beside her. 

She leaned forward, fingers reaching out, curling, trembling as they finally reached his skin.

She was close, too close, far closer than she had ever been to anyone outside of a maid and her mother. She could feel his breath fan across her skin, hot puffs of air brushing the inside of her wrist.

Her fingers brushed across the mark where the blade had pressed into his skin, gathering on her fingertips the delicate beads of blood that still lingered.

Another whimper left his lips, a tight coil forming in her stomach as he did.

His fingers bushed her hips, not quite touching, or grabbing, but balanced in the air just above the fabric of her gown.

She pulled her hand away, just slightly, turning it to admire the dark smear of crimson on her skin. She rubbed it between her finger and thumb gently, relishing its silky glide between them.

Part of her wanted to bring them to her lips, let her tongue dance out and taste the very essence of his being. 

But another part of her—

Instead she turned her hand back to him, enjoying the look of surprise on his face as she pressed her fingertips to his lips.

She shivered at the contact, the knot in her stomach growing unbearable at the sight of him.

He let his eyes flutter closed, pressing a chaste kiss to her bloodstained fingers, relishing in the way it stained his lips as well.

She slid her fingers across his bottom lip, biting at her own to suppress a hum of satisfaction.

But this wasn’t enough.

“Open,” she commanded, surprising even herself.

His eye flew open, wide with surprise and something deeper—darker.

His lips parted without hesitation, her fingers sliding past them. His tongue lifted to meet them, hot and needy. She pressed her digits down against it, breath leaving her when he curled his tongue around her finger, laving them in his hot spit.

His eyes met hers again, his thick lashes fluttered, his heavy lidded gaze letting her know he would allow her to do this, and so much more.

None of this was very ladylike.

But she wasn’t a lady.

She was a princess.

And he was her knight.

It was unusually cool in the N109 zone that night—though the temperature always seemed to drop when Minako got closer to a mark. Still, the chill of the air did nothing to help her relax as she approached the large, abandoned warehouse at the end of the alleyway.

The light breeze also did more than just mess up her dark locks, it also carried the sharp scent of blood.

Reflexively, she tensed her jaw at the metallic tang of it, her slender fingers adjusting on her gun as she readied herself for a fight.

The scent was heavy—whatever carnage awaited her wasn't going to be pretty, but it was to be expected.

Some rogue N109 Scientist—though weren't they all rogues?—decided the night before was the perfect time to test some new pheromone bomb. It sent dozens of the local nightlife into a frenzy, and the association had been working around the clock to clean it all up. They were run ragged trying to make sure the public didn't get wind, and truthfully? They were doing a shit job.

The frenzied vampires had broken out of their initial containment zone quicker than expected. Their erratic behavior made them hard to track, some had grouped up, while most of them went solo, leaving in their wake trails of blood that all seemed to lead to nowhere.

It was dangerous to hunt alone, but in a time like this, they were stretched thin across both Linkon and the N109 zone.

There was no telling how many civilian casualties awaited her at the end of this trail.

Still, she pressed on, hoping that her position downwind and the overwhelming smell of gore would disguise her presence.

Mina slinked further down the alleyway, her eyes dilating as she slid out of the dim light of a streetlamp into the darkness offered by the hangover at the back entrance of the warehouse. She pressed her back to the wall just beside the entry, the heavy, rusted door slightly ajar, the strong scent wafting out as the large metal fans overhead whirred slowly with the nightbreeze.

Thankfully, she'd been able to restock her arsenal before she headed out earlier that night. She slipped her hand into a pouch at her waist, smoothly sliding her finger into the pin of a suppressant grenade, readying to throw at the first sign of the frenzied.

A breath later, after her eyes had adjusted a little better to the dark, she slipped inside, taking care to move the door as little as possible as she did so.

Faint slivers of light filtered through the overhead fans and sparse holes in the tin roof, casting a white moon glow across scattered and toppled shelving.

The scent of blood was stronger inside the building, almost overwhelmingly so, and Mina had to resist the urge to bring her hand to her face to shield her nose from the raw, festering smell.

She stilled, finger still holding the pin to her grenade, and waited with bated breath for any signs of the undead. When no more signs showed themselves, she cursed under her breath.

Had they moved on already?

She slipped the grenade back into her pouch, gripping her gun with both hands as she slid further into the building.

As expected, the smell grew stronger as she grew closer to the center of the warehouse. The roof above had a large opening in it, letting the moonlight through in a white beam, illuminating the flooring, and finally giving her a glimpse of the dark red spatters across the cold, pale concrete.

Then she heard the first noise, something like a gargled groan, wet and thick—a stomach turning sound to those that weren't used to the carnage these creatures always left in their wake. There wasn't the usual noise of a feeding vampire that usually accompanied the sound of their victims choking on their own blood, so maybe, just maybe, this was a good sign.

Maybe she could save them, or at the very least, put them out of their misery.

She kept her steps light, only hesitating when she rounded a row of shelves to see the sparse spatters of blood turn to thick streaks.

Her eyes followed the trail, down the aisle of shelves and around, leading her straight to the faint sound just beyond.

She stepped around the red streak, raising her gun as she rounded the corner, ready to take down any straggling vampires that were still around.

The opening in the roof was just overhead, the white moonlight cast through, setting the scene before her aglow.

Her stomach dropped, and she couldn't help the gasp of surprise that left her lips at the bloody pile in the center of the warehouse.

Blood pooled thick on the concrete floor, flowing slowly from the stack of bodies piled two and three deep in the ring of moonlight.

She couldn't peel her eyes away from the slaughter, realization slowly dawning on her as she observed their ashen faces, dark, lifeless eyes, and the blood stained points that glittered in their slack jaws.

Her arms went limp, her gun dropping as she took a step closer, keeping her eyes on what was in the center of the mass of dead bodies.

In a chair, wrapped in chains and ribbons, with the knot of a big red bow gagging him, sat a man.

She didn't know him, but his dingy and red stained lab coat gave her an idea of just who she was looking at—perhaps the scientist that had started this all.

His eyes were wide as she approached the edge of the mass, and his struggle against his restraints were not hope filled at his rescue, but rather filled with urgent fear at what his capture meant for his life.

"How did you get yourself in this mess?" She asked, voice low, eyes observing the area to look for more signs of other life.

He shook his head frantically, the gurgling noise from his throat muffled by the ribbon stuffed in his mouth. He looked like shit, covered in dirt and grime and what mostly appeared to be the blood of others. However, her eyes were drawn to the marks on his neck, with their oozing trails of blood leaving a slowly growing stain on his shirt and coat.

One of these creatures had gotten a bite before whatever chaos had happened here, it seemed. Clearly it hadn't been enough to drain him, but by the noise he was making, they'd managed to do some internal damage to his throat as well.

She probably shouldn't let him die here—even if she really, really wanted to call it a day and head home.

No, the association would want her to bring him back alive and interrogate him and—her thoughts were interrupted as her eyes were drawn to the red ribbon, and the folded piece of paper that was pinned to where it crisscrossed over his chest.

She should have clocked that sooner, but in her defense, she was very tired.

Reluctantly, she nudged the lifeless bodies of the vampires aside, making her way to the thrashing man, who grew more and more erratic the closer she got.

Already Mina had grown tired of the disgusting noises the man was making, so she holstered her pistol and quickly pulled a syringe from her pouch to sedate the scientist. He jerked hard from the sudden prick of the needle, nearly toppling over the chair, before his body went slack in its chains.

She didn't bother to check him any further, instead focusing on the paper. She carefully removed it from the ribbon, surprised at its pristine whiteness amongst all the surrounding blood, and flipped it over to reveal her name written in a fine, scrolling handwriting on the back.

She recognized the writing, of course, and slowly the scene around her was starting to make sense.

Of course Sylys was involved. Nothing happened in the N109 zone without him getting in the middle of it somehow. Besides, who else could have subdued this many frenzied vampires so easily? Surely not anyone at the association.

She should feel lucky that she didn't have to try and take on this hoard herself, but she couldn't help but feel a nagging of annoyance at his interference.

Nevertheless, she unfolded it, revealing more of that fine script.

It seems this one has caused us both a lot of trouble—and today of all days, I really should have done more than capture him… But I know a good gift when I see one, so instead, I've decided to present him to you. Maybe you'll get a promotion if you turn him in to the association? Or perhaps you can seek satisfaction in his death. The choice is yours.

She could feel his presence as she neared the end of the letter, the air shifting around her, growing heavy for just a moment, before she felt a soft touch at the small of her back.

"Happy Birthday, Minako." His velvety voice caressed her senses as he slowly slid an arm around her midsection.

"You shouldn't have," Mina's voice came out monotone, trying her best to keep up the annoyed facade.

But she couldn't help the way she wanted to fall into place, her shoulders relaxing as he pulled her back flush against him. His touch was gentle, those long fingers toying with her hair just a little before he tilted her head to the side, brushing the strands away from her face and tucking the dark locks behind her ear. Unconsciously, she tilted her head a little more, the tiredness of the last few days melting away as he pressed a chaste kiss on the warm flesh of her neck.

"And there's more where that came from," he assured, his deep vibrato resonating against her skin, calming her right down to her core.

It was easy, when he was like this, to forget everything else—that he was her enemy, that right now, they were in a dank warehouse, surrounded by his dead brethren. And it seemed that these moments were growing fewer and farther between lately.

She let out a small hum in response, folding the note and shoving it into her pocket.

"I suppose I should say thank you," she murmured, her hands finding his, pulling them away just enough to allow herself to turn in his arms.

She took a moment to observe him, as he seemed to do the same, and she slid her palms up his solid chest, standing on her toes to link them behind his neck.

Despite all this effort—culling dozens of his frenzied brethren, capturing the perpetrator alive, and setting all this up—he looked nonplussed; his usual, perfect self, not a single white hair out of place. She could tell by the look in those glowing red eyes, and the way his lips slowly slid into a smirk, that she wore her annoyance clear on her face.

"Do you not like it, Kitten?" He teased, pulling her tightly against him with one hand, while he slid his knuckles slowly along her jaw.

She didn't dignify him with a straight answer—what was there to like or dislike? This gift of his was dual purpose, perhaps even triple. He could rid his territory of troublemakers while also freeing up the rest of her night. Just maybe it wasn't entirely selfish… He did like to surprise her, for better or worse, every now and again.

"It's going to be a lot of paperwork and I'm tired" she sighed out, earning a chuckle from him. Pressed so tightly against him, the vibrations from his deep laugh washed over her, and it took a considerable amount of energy to keep her expression schooled.

He didn't seem to be put off by her scowl, "Well, we'll just have to do something about that, won't we?" He smiled, tilting her chin up and finally dipping down to capture her pouty lips with his own.

Their kiss was soft at first, but as his touch wore down her edges, it soon deepened. They parted only when his fangs nipped at her bottom lip, the sudden shock of it pulling a whimper from deep inside her.

"You alright, Kitten?" He asked, amusement lacing his tone as his tongue laved at her reddened flesh.

She swallowed her huff of frustration—frustration that he'd pulled away, that they were here, that she'd need to part from him for a moment longer when all she wanted was for him to whisk her away and allow her some much needed rest after this whole ordeal.

Reluctantly, her arms loosened from around his neck, his hold on her slipping just enough that she could access her hunter watch and punch at the display.

"I'm calling for back up," she said as she closed out of the report, "so, we should get out of here. Someone else can deal with this."

He tutted, but pulled her closer, "You're going to let them take all the credit?"

She didn't spare the scientist behind her another glance, allowing instead for Sylus to pull her up into his arms. "You said there was more, right?"

Ao3 Link Challenge Link

Minako belongs to @technicolor-rhapsody

Tags: MC/Sylus, vampire, Supernatural Hunter AU, High School AU

Undercover work had never been her favorite—and as much as she enjoyed working alongside Xavier, playing captor and captive was a bit difficult with him. Especially when he kept pulling her aside, checking her for injuries, and had her oftentimes leaving their little interrogation sessions looking better than she had just moments before. Part of her also wanted the challenge such a mission could really offer. This was supposed to be a difficult mission, but honestly, it was feeling a little too easy. She wasn’t an adrenaline junky by any means… but it was a bit disappointing to have every solution offered up on a silver platter by Xavier. Hell, she hadn’t even gotten more than a paper cut since the day she was ‘captured’.

"Here he comes again," she heard one of the other technicians whisper. Their voice broke through the monotonous sounds of their work. 

"I know they’re all bullies, but he’s a little…" another tech trailed off with a small hum. 

"Obsessed?" The first tech filled in for them. 

"Exactly! It's weird." The second blurted, fist thumping on their open palm, just as they were quickly shushed. They cleared their throat, shooting her a hasty look as they pretended to get back to work.

She hadn't budged from her station, fingers still tapping away as the little ring on her finger did all the heavy lifting. But she could hear the footsteps approaching and her shoulders tensed just a little.

"You’re still working on this?" Xavier, their ‘supervisor’, said as he scrutinized her screen. His tone was clipped, and to those listening, he likely sounded just as annoyed as he wanted them to believe.

But she could hear the concern behind the question. ‘How long since you had a break?’ Or ‘have you eaten yet?’ And ‘did you sleep well?’ She could feel it in the way he placed his hand on the back of her chair, tugging it, too gently, until it budged just enough to pull her away from her work.

It was annoying.

She could feel her eye twitch as she heard whispers again—at least they were aware enough to actually be quiet this time. 

She hadn’t planned on it, but her palms were on the metal desktop in seconds. The sound of skin on cold steel echoed through the work room, leaving in its wake nothing more than silence, their onlookers too caught up in the sudden emotion to continue their whispering and work.

She could feel their eyes on them. Her cheeks flushed.

She turned her head quickly, hair whipping into her face as she glared up at her supervisor. "I’m working as quickly as I can—we all are." She dared to mouth off. Give them a show and, hopefully, throw the techs off of this ‘obsessed supervisor’ theory they had. Other than being unusually good at this job, what they needed was for Xavier to have a real reason to be so on top of her all the time.

He looked down at her, meeting her gaze, his expression still cool. Of course he wouldn’t react to her outburst, he was too calm for that. But his jaw was tense, and she could see the muscles in his neck and shoulder flex as he gripped the back of her chair just a little tighter. He was thinking, she could tell that much, but what exactly was a mystery. 

"I doubt that," he finally narrowed his eyes at her, then dared a look at her screen. "You’ve been slacking," he shook his head in disappointment. "Don’t think I’ll continue to let this slide," he tugged her chair, too easily pulling it, and her, away from the desk and making her face him fully.

The small gasp that left her lips was involuntary, and her hand flew out to stabilize herself. She felt soft fabric and warmth beneath her grip, her fingers clenching the sleeve of Xavier’s outstretched arm to steady herself.

She thought she heard a gasp from somewhere in the room.

But she didn’t break character, and neither did he.

She jerked her hand away from him, cradling it in the other, letting out a small hiss as if she were burned by his touch.

Xavier bared down, causing her to shrink back just a little into her chair.

"When you slack off, it makes things harder on the others." He jerked his chin towards the room of technicians.

There it was, real conflict—she was proud, to say the least. She worked hard to suppress the smile that threatened to bloom on her lips, doing her best to instead screw them into a snarl.

"Things wouldn't be so hard for them if you didn't push us so hard," she bit back, daring to raise her chin in opposition to his authority.

She saw his nostrils flare, felt the pressure he put on the back of her chair as he loomed over her and leaned in, caging her in her seat.

"What are you here for if not to work?" The question was rhetorical, of course, followed quickly by a threat. "Do I need to make an example of you? Do we need to remind the others what happens if you slack off?"

"We can't work any harder," she snapped, keeping her expression hard even as she made herself small beneath him.

Then he laughed, but not his usual light, heart fluttering laugh—this was dark, evil even. Chills went down her spine—he was really getting into this.

"I guess I do then," he answered his earlier questions, moving quickly to snatch her wrist, pulling her just hard enough to get her out of the chair and onto her feet.

She let out a small gasp of pain, she knew her role well enough by now, even if no pain bloomed from his tight grip on her arm. He knew just how to make it look like he was being rougher than he actually was, he was especially careful not to hold her wrists the wrong way, dreading the feeling of her bones grinding against one another in his grip. She thought he was going to cry when they practiced the first time and he'd hurt her just a little.

"Wait—" she choked out, tugging against his grasp just enough to put on a show.

He responded by glaring back at her, just before he barked out to the other techs to get back to work.

He marched her down the familiar dimly lit compound halls, barely even holding on to her at this point, until he pulled her into their usual interrogation room—one without the typical two way mirror.

The door clanged shut loudly behind them, and as soon as it was sealed, he dropped her wrist.

"Are you mad at me?" He turned on her quickly, those eyes that had just been a cold blue stare now soft pools.

"What?" She blinked, "no?"

"Are you sure?" he pouted.

She scoffed.

"No," she said again, this time, with more than a little annoyance behind it. "Ugh, you were doing so well."

"Was I?" he asked, hesitant.

"I mean, you were really selling the angry supervisor thing is all," she tried to quench her irritation.

"Well…" he nodded, "of course. But did I hurt you? You seem…"

"I think we might just be in a little of trouble is all," she finally spelled it out for him, taking her chance to lean against their usual interrogation table and take a deep breath. "The techs have been gossiping, the usual stuff, mostly, but also about how you're obsessed with me?" She eyed him as he took in the information.

"I mean," he tried to smile and play it off, "I am."

An indignant snort of laughter left her lips at that. "Okay, yeah, sure, but this you—Shatterblade supervisor—shouldn't be."

He pouted again, because of course, hitting her with the full force of his puppy dog eyes.

"Xavier." She warned, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring him down.

They stared at one another for a moment, neither willing to back down, until finally, he broke.

He let out a sigh, eyes closing briefly as his shoulders slumped.

"You're right." He said slowly, reluctant to admit there had been a flaw in his acting skills. "The guards have been talking too, though I'm not really sure what they think I'm doing."

She let her shoulders relax too, uncrossing her arms, and moving in to offer the hug she could tell he wanted.

"But I think we're getting on the right track again," she said, pressing a small chaste kiss to his jaw.

He slowly wrapped his arms around her, letting his face fall into the crook of her neck, his breath ruffling her hair.

She hugged him back, hand rubbing soothing circles in his back, knowing he'd need it after hearing what she was about to propose.

"And I think it's time." She said slowly and she felt him tense in her arms.

"No," he said firmly, tightening his grip before releasing her completely.

He held her at arms length, his expression stern and resolve steadfast as she glared up at him.

"We have to do whatever we can to make sure the mission succeeds," she reminded him, "I'll be fine—a few bruises are nothing, and they're superficial at best." She rationalized, but he just shook his head.

"If our positions were reversed, would you do it?" He asked her, still a little in shock that she was pressing the issue.

"Sure," she said quickly, shrugging.

He did a double take, fingers going lax on her shoulders. "What?" He asked slowly.

She let a smile slide onto her expression, "probably not, no." She sighed, "but we're not in that situation, now are we?" She tried to maintain control of the conversation. "Look, it's not like I want you to rough me up, but I really think it needs to happen. People are suspecting something is up. We just have to keep this farce up for a few more days, but these really are the most crucial days—you were the one that told me that." She spoke softly, slowly removing his hands from her shoulders, sliding her hands into his, entwining their fingers as the expression on his brow grew more concerned by the second.

"Just a little black eye, maybe actually leave bruises on my wrists for once, and even just—"

"No."

He shook his head, he wasn't going to even entertain the idea, it seemed.

He pulled her close to him again and she let herself be encircled in his embrace.

She sighed into his chest, cheek pressed firmly against him, hearing his usually calm heartbeat beating rapidly against his ribs—he really didn't like this line of thinking.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said softly into her hair, lips pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

"I know," she muttered into the fabric of his shirt, "I'm sorry, Xavie, but…" She sighed, not finishing the sentence as he squeezed her tightly against him.

She let them stay like this a moment longer, trying her best to think of another solution to their little issue. Maybe she'd just do it herself, she could probably manage that—cut herself up a little—she really didn't want to punch herself in the eye though… She sighed heavily, nixing that idea.

But then, it dawned on her.

"Wait—no, yeah, you're obsessed with me." She blurted out, pushing against him just enough to be able to look up at him.

He looked back, as confused as ever. "Well, yes…" He said slowly, clearly more than a little worried with what she'd say next.

"So…" She smiled, wiggling a brow at him. He shook his head, still not picking up what she was putting down. "So, think of it like a bad thriller or something—the villain that's obsessed with the heroine is almost always infatuated with her as well."

"Well, I am infatuated with you, yes." He nodded slowly.

"I have to spell it out?" She sagged in his arms, briefly feeling like maybe this wasn't that great of a plan, maybe it'd just been a long time since they had any real alone time together and she was just—

"Oh." His voice broke through her thoughts.

"Oh?" She asked, face lighting up as she grasped his sides and looked up at him expectantly.

"I don't know," he said slowly, "that feels a little like I'd be taking advantage of you, a supervisor shouldn't—"

"Xavie," she groaned out, hands flying to his face, his cheeks warm to the touch as she made him look her straight in the eyes. "If I tell you that I want you to take advantage of me here, you do realize you're not actually taking advantage of me, right? You're not actually my supervisor, you're my partner—on two fronts!" She smiled, hoping it came out more reassuring than manic.

He blinked down at her, but a moment later he was craning his neck down, lips brushing gently over her own in a hesitant kiss. "If you're sure." He said against her lips.

She confirmed by deepening their kiss, her arms going to wrap around his neck and pull him close.

"And maybe," she sighed into their kiss as his hands slid down to brush over her lower back. She pulled away, biting at her lip as she looked into his half-lidded eyes. "Maybe be a little rough?"

—

If they thought he was obsessed before?

"You," Xavier's voice boomed out over the technician work room as he pushed through the door.

It was an hour after lunch—or it should be, but since she'd gotten to know the techs a little better, and they'd begun standing up against the guards a little… it was actually only just the end of their lunch.

"Fuck," she cursed out under her breath. She was standing with a few of the others and an elderly tech immediately moved themselves in between her and the supervisor that stomped his way over.

"Move aside," Xavier came to stand in front of the frail elder, his arms crossed over his chest as he peered down his nose at them.

"She hasn't done anything!" another, young tech spoke up.

"Is that for you to decide?" Xavier shot the tech a glare, "then why aren't all of you in the middle of work? Why are you just standing around?" He raised his voice, his hard scowl harsh on his usually soft features.

"Please," she said softly to the elder that guarded her, "I'll be fine," she reassured, gently placing her hand on their shoulder to scoot them aside.

"Move it," Xavier butted back in, reaching to grab her wrist and pull her from behind the elder.

She let out a gasp of pain, this one almost real—he was being impatient, it seemed.

"You think you can just disrupt the order of things?" Xavier scolded as he dragged her out of the room. "Do you think you run this place?" He scoffed, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath.

She let out a grunt, pulling against his grasp as she stumbled behind him. She heard the elder call out for her, but before she could reassure them again, they were already beyond the door, making their way down the hall, and back to their usual interrogation room.

The door to the room slammed shut behind them, Xavier barely waiting for it to close fully before he turned and pushed her back against it. The metal bit into her back, just a little, and she was acutely aware at how the small pricks of pain sent a jolt straight to her core.

He wasn't the only one that was enjoying this a little too much.

"You're troublesome." He muttered as he caged her in, leaning to press soft kisses just below her ear.

"You didn't have to take it this far," she whispered back, letting her head fall to the side, giving him more access to pepper kisses down her neck, down to just below her collar, where the skin was already littered in small, day-old bruises.

"But you said I was doing a good job," he teased, just a little, as his teeth nipped gently at her shoulder.

She was going to tell him he was doing a good job, because dammit, he really was, but her praise came out in the form of a soft moan as his hand stealthily made its way down the front of her shorts, his finger effortlessly finding their mark between her already slick folds.

"See?" She could feel the smile on his lips as he spoke against her skin, punctuating his victory by sucking gently on an unmarred piece of flesh just above her collar bone.

"S-shouldn't you be the one critiquing my job?" She stuttered out, hands moving to clench at his shoulders as he made slow, teasing circles around her clit.

"Should I?" He hummed against her skin, his fingers stilling between her thighs as he paused to collect his thoughts.

"Wait," she whined, hips bucking forward, chasing the fingers that retreated quickly from the warmth of her folds.

"This mess with the breaks and extra long lunch," he said quickly, his tone serious, the sudden change in mood sending her head swimming. "You need to respect the authority of the guards."

He moved quickly, turning her around so her face was pressed against the cool metal of the door. "Do you know how to do that?" he asked, his hips pressing into her, his already hard cock pressing into the supple curve of her ass.

Her heart pounded in her chest—she was almost sure she could hear it thump against the metal door, her breasts squashed tightly against it as he applied pressure to the back of her neck to keep her in place.

She tried to mutter out her reply, something snarky, anything to rile him up more, but her words were interrupted by a loud moan as those deft fingers once again slipped inside her shorts. His other hand left her neck, letting her go slack against the door, as his fingers tracing up her jaw until he covered her mouth.

"These doors aren't that thick," he leaned down, whispering in her ear, relishing the way her silenced moans felt against his palm as he worked his fingers through her folds, teasing her clit before sliding further and sinking knuckle deep into her wet heat.

The small break in character was over in an instant, the harsh supervisor back in a blink, reprimanding her for her meddling. "It seems you don't know how to respect authority—even after our last session?" He scoffed, his tongue lapping gently at one of the many remaining bite marks that peeked out of her loose collar.

She let out a whimper in response, his hand gripping her face slightly, punctuating their need for her silence, before he pulled it away.

"Do I need to show you again?" He asked, his fingers pulling at her collar, revealing to his eager lips more skin marred by his kisses.

She didn't respond—not verbally—but the way she clenched around his fingers was indicative that yes, she needed his guidance. But he paused again, pulling his fingers from her heat, earning him another cry in return.

"I want to hear you say it," he pressed, not shifting an inch until her lips began moving in reply.

Her voice came out breathy and broken, her quick yesses, rewarded shortly after as his fingers found their way to her clit once again.

"Good little technician," he smiled against her skin, hand wriggling between her body and the door so his deft fingers could undo the buttons to her shirt. As soon as more skin was revealed to him, he took care to leave traces of his kisses behind, each bite and suck soothed with gentle flicks of his tongue afterward.

Her hands found purchase on the metal door, fingers digging hard into the cold steel, the pain keeping her focused just enough for her to swallow the loudest moans that threatened to escape her lips. Though, the small pops of pain he etched into her shoulder worked against her, causing whimpers to bubble up past her lips despite her efforts.

"So you can follow orders." He teased, arm sliding around her to keep her upright as her knees weakened beneath her, his fingers between her folds offering her no such break.

"It's been a real headache dealing with the complaints from the guards you know," he hummed. "Maybe," he rolled his hips against her ass, earning a small yelp as he reminded her of the hard length that pressed into her backside. "Maybe you can make it up to me while you're at it?"

She barely registered his words, too lost in the way his fingers teased her—so slow and methodic, knowing exactly where to apply pressure, and how to keep her just at the edge of ecstasy.

He sighed, adjusting her grip on her again. He gripped her jaw, tugging her head back and into his chest. "Are you even listening?" he looked down at her, her hazy eyes blinking up at him as he angled her face up to his.

She could feel her lips trembling, puffy and raw from where she'd been biting them to keep her moans subdued, but she couldn't make them move to form the words she wanted.

He broke character again, just for a moment, "did I break you?" He asked softly as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

She mustered up a quick shake of her head, hoping the pleading in her eyes was enough to convey she wanted him to keep going.

A smile flitted across his face before he returned to his role of supervisor. "In that case, I think you will make it up to me."

In a swift move, he removed his hand from between her thighs again, steadying her hips—ignoring her whines of protest—before he reached around to deftly undo her shorts the rest of the way and slide them just below her ass.

"I think," he hummed, his hand running appreciatively over her exposed asscheek, marked lightly with a purpling bruise from their last session, "this will do nicely." He grabbed her by her hips again, pulling her back and grinding her ass against his still-clothed cock.

He suppressed his own groan of pleasure, bristling and eager to free his straining erection from its confines, but savoring the moment.

"You look really nice like this," he mused, tugging at her shirt to expose more of her marked back to him. "Covered so well in my marking—I want to cover you in more."

Her hips moved eagerly against his bulge, missing the touch of his fingers between her thighs and greedy for what he would replace them with. She threw a pleading look in his direction, her trembling lips barely allowing her quiet begging to fall from them.

And he couldn't handle much more. He pulled her away from the door, just enough to have her bent before him. Her upper half slid down the metal, hands bracing against it, anticipating whatever he had in store.

He made quick work of his belt and pants, feeling a brief moment of relief as his cock finally sprung free of their confinement. He held her steady before him, guiding himself between her tight thighs, held together by her barely peeled back shorts.

He shuddered as his tip met with her warm, sticky junction of her thighs, not yet sliding into her fluttering core. His cock nudged at her clit, each little motion of his hips bringing a gasp to her lips. His head spun, the feeling of her plush thighs and warm cunt gliding against his cock already enough to make him want to cum.

He stilled, for just a moment, attempting to collect himself, but his little hostage had other plans. She rolled her hips, finally letting her moans escape unabated as she brought herself closer to climax on his cock.

"Wait—" he grunted, grabbing her hips hard, fingers digging into her pliant flesh hard enough to leave bruises. She was reluctant, but stilled, her breaths labored, coming out in huffs as she pressed her forehead into the cool metal of the door.

Finally, she managed a coherent sentence, "please, Xavie," she begged, "Xavie, I'm so close," she all but cried.

He grit his teeth, wanting more to give her what she wanted than to continue their little game, or worry about his own pleasure.

He slipped a hand back around to her front, fingers finding her clit once more, drawing tight sharp circles. Her hips bucked against him and he could feel sweat drip down his brow, his core tight as he focused more on her release than the feel of her slippery folds against him.

She came quick and easy, his practiced fingers bringing her to her climax and teasing just long enough after that she begged him to stop.

She felt loose in his grasp, her cheek pressed against the door now, hands barely holding her up, but he knew he wouldn't be long after her.

He finally let himself move his hips again, gliding his cock almost all the way out from between her thighs and then back, sliding effortlessly into her fluttering cunt.

She gave a low moan of his name as he thrust into her, jostling her against the door, the locking mechanism rattling with each pump into her heat.

He didn't pay it any mind—at this point, everyone was aware of his 'obsession', this was nothing new.

A few thrusts later and he could feel himself stutter, his hips snapping erratically against her ass until he pressed himself hard into her, rocking into her heat as he spilled his seed deep into her core.

He took only a moment to bask in the afterglow, a small whimper from her drawing him back to reality and out of his pussy drunk haze in an instant. Then, he was pulling himself free from her heavenly heat, shimmying her shorts back into place and tucking himself away before helping her to stand back upright.

"I have to say," he laughed a little as she immediately buried her face in his chest, letting out a sigh of relief, "you really are doing a good job here."

--------------------------

Screenshots have my MCs hair color, but i could upload with a different/default color if requested. This one allows for full hair glitch swap too! (No promises on timeline though.)

Feel free to use these for whatever fannish endeavors you have. No credit/link back required, but I'd love to see anything you create!