#xia caleb

“For the love of God,” you mutter, sitting up on your bed. “Couldn’t he at least, move his bed away from the shared wall? Or schedule the symphonies for…” you glance at the red-glowing digits on your nightstand. 1:00am. “…hours that aren’t to sleep.”

Your pillow is already half off the bed as you bury your face in it to muffle the sounds. Sex couldn’t be thatgood, you think, as another thump reverberates like a strange, patient earthquake.

You clamp the pillow over your ears harder—but it’s no use. You can still hear a rhythm, distant but steady, and beneath it, the tiny, infuriating detail: Caleb’s laughter, bright and boyish, cutting through. 

That sound snaps whatever polite restraint you’d been patching together into sharp little pieces.

You fling the pillow aside. Tights twisting, heart pounding, you march out of your room and aim straight to his. 

You don’t hesitate, you raise your fist and knock so hard the cheap wood answers back with a hollow thud. “Do you know what time it is, for fuck’s sake?!” you bark, voice raw and flat with fury. 

No answers come.

The only thing that tells you you’ve been heard is the groan of the mattress like an old ship settling. And for a ridiculous, furious second you consider that this could be your victory. 

You already picture yourself trudging back to your bed, collapsing, sleep swooping—

The door swings open before you can celebrate. 

Caleb stands there in the doorway, half-naked and annoyingly unbothered, a pillow strategically pressed to hide whatever decency remains. 

“What the—” escapes you, but it dies in your chest when your eyes sweep his room: clothes in a chaotic spill, a lamp askew, and a girl sprawled over his bed. Your eyes almost pop out of their sockets when you notice several used condoms on the floor.

Heat stabs your face—not from embarrassment but from acute, stupid fury. And maybe… arousal.

Caleb tilts his head, amused. He doesn’t look remotely embarrassed too—even though, he should be. He smirks, that infuriating, cocky half-smile that says he knows exactly what he’s doing and doesn’t care.

“Wanna join?” he says, the words sliding out with casual malice

You feel your jaw tighten until it hurts. “Are you kidding me?” you snap. “It’s one in the morning, you inconsiderate—” your voice drops venomous. You step forward until you’re a breath from him. “Do you even own a clock? Decency??”

He laughs, leaning into the doorway to be a smug silhouette and hiding the girl’s quivering thighs. “Relax, you’re dramatic tonight. Go back to bed and stop being so uptight.”

Uptight.

Up.tight.

The word skitters off him like oil and echoes in your head. Your hands ball into fists at your sides. “Uptight, huh?” you spit. “You think I’m dramatic? You’re the one playing percussion with our shared wall like it’s the rehearsal for a porno.”

He blinks, still smiling. “We’re adults,” he says, as if it settles everything. “We do adult things.”

“Adults don’t keep other adults awake,” your eyes narrow at the sweat dripping down the side of his neck. “They respect shared spaces, Caleb. They respect roommates.”

“Noted,” he shrugs, dragging the word out, deliciously insincere. “But, maybe, next time you can join the fun instead of policing it.”

Your blood rushes. For a dizzy second you imagine saying the worst thing you can think of… and for another dizzy second you find yourself wondering if sex could really be that good, again. But this time with Caleb’s broad frame over you and—

You shake your head, biting your nails into your palm, trying as much as you can to tether yourself to earth. “You moved your bed against the wall on purpose,” you tell him, meeting his bright purple gaze. “Move it back. Or I’ll file a noise complaint and won’t be nice about it.”

He shrugs again, the pillow still pressed under his lower body. “I’ll think about it,” he takes a step back, and before turning away he tosses: “Thanks for the midnight visit. You always bring such energy, pipsqueak.”

Then, as if punctuation were unnecessary, he flashes you his round ass and doesn’t even bother to close the door.

“Talk of delirious conversation.” You talk through your teeth, returning to your room fluming harder than when you left. 

──────ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Next morning you’re gone before the sun even bothers to rise fully, slipping out of the apartment with your bag slung over your shoulder. No breakfast, no coffee, no ‘good morning.’ You don’t even give yourself the chance to hear if he’s snoring or not. You’re absolutely not in the mood to look at his deranged face after last night. 

And Caleb? Oh, Caleb is disappointed. His eyes flutter open to an empty living room and the sound of your bedroom door firmly shut. No playful banter, no glaring, not even a muttered insult for him to feed off.

“That’s cold he mumbles into his pillow, rolling over with a groan. But then his expression shifts… “Well, at least this gives me plenty of time for my favorite hobby.”

He stretches like a cat, drags himself out of bed stark naked, and announces to absolutely no one, “PANTIES TOUUUUUUR!!” His voice booms through the apartment with an enthusiasm that belongs more to a game show host than a man living with another human being.

He marches to the laundry basket. Going to your cleaned clothes wasn’t an option—he wanted something freshly worn by you. He digs through it with the reverence of an archaeologist on the brink of discovery, lifting each piece of clothing one by one. A sock? Tossed aside. A hoodie? Boring. 

His grin widens, boyish and filthy as he plucks up a delicate scrap of fabric.

“Ohhhhh, my sweet little roommate,” he croons, holding your laced little panties up in the air. He presses them to his face, inhaling, eyes rolling back. “Ah, smells like pure divinity,” he sighs.

He parades around the apartment with his prize, his bare feet slapping lazily against the floor. The pillows he’d used last night, and the crumpled sheets are already tumbling in the machine, sacrificed to the illusion of cleanliness, but this little trophy? This, he’s not letting go of.

He hums tunelessly as he twirls the fabric on his finger, the way someone else might spin car keys. When he flops onto the ouch, he does it with a dramatic groan, one arm thrown over his forehead, the panties clutched to his chest. 

“Why’d you leave so early, huh?” he says out loud, talking to the ceiling. “You know I need my morning fix. A glare, a curse, a shove into the fridge door… anything!” he shifts suddenly upright, shaking the panties in accusation. “Don’t you get it, pipsqueak? I need you.” 

His voice dips, carrying the filth that feeds his disturbed mind. “Even if it’s just to scream at me while I do this—”

muffling the sound directly against your panties. He presses his mouth hard to the fabric, kissing them. His lips drag along the lace, open-mouthed and hungry, leaving damp heat behind. He bites the edge gently, then sucks it between his teeth as it was your tongue.

 His tongue was slow at first, but it quickly became rougher—obscene and sweet in his own way of savoring. He licks up the seam, hips twitching faintly as if his body can’t help responding.

His mouth isn’t moving with careful curiosity. 

It’s confident.

The confidence of a man who’s done it before. Many times. Every motion has that practiced filthiness—the greedy inhale against the pantie, the way he turns it in his hands so he can mouth at the gusset more deeply, dragging his lips over it again and again. 

His breath turns ragged the longer he goes. His free hand slips down without hesitation, wrapping around his cock and dragging it out hard and heavy, flushed to a painful red. The obscene sound of his pre-cum lubing him up fills the quiet apartment as he fists himself with desperate speed, sloppy—just raw need. 

“Fuuuck—” he gasps against them. “That’s it… that’s so fucking good…” His tongue pushes through the lace again, lapping at the damp seam like he could taste you on it if he worked hard enough. He drools onto the fabric without shame, saliva soaking in and smearing across his face, making it stick wetly against his skin. He laughs — cracked and manic — his hips bucking into his own fist, precum spilling over his knuckles and dripping down his shaft.

He shuts his eyes tight, grinding the panties harder into his face, biting the fabric like he wants to eat it whole. His voice is broken as it pours out between clenched teeth: “Fuck—fuck, give it to me… give me that smell… oh god, I fucking need it.”

He strokes faster—the wet slap of his cock in his hand, the snuffling sorts against the lace, the breathless whines breaking out of his throat is a filthy mixture echoing around the apartment.

It’s disgusting.

The kind of feral, degrading ritual of a man who’s done this way too many times, who’s ruined too many pairs of your underwear in exactly this way.

When he finally spills, it’s violent. No less. Hot cum is spilling over his red hand, his naked stomach, his pants. He jerks and bucks until it streaks across the couch cushion beneath him too, the mess soaking into the fabric. His moan rips out of him raw and guttural, teeth sinking into the gusset, smearing it with spit.

And when he collapses back, chest heaving, he’s grinning—completely satisfied. He drags the panties down from his face, strings of spit clinging, then presses one last sloppy kiss right to the soaked crotch. 

And as if it couldn’t get any filthier, Caleb puts the pantie on his own mess, cleaning himself the best he could before bringing back the fabric to his tongue. 

He moans, savoring the sour-salty taste of his own mess mingled with the faint ghost of your scent.

“Perfect,” he pants. “So perfect, you have no idea…”

He lays there in the wreckage, cum cooling on his skin, panties balled in his fist. 

──────ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

It’s late when you finally make it home. The hallway is quiet, the kind that makes you hope Caleb’s already asleep. You unlock the door slowly, bracing yourself, praying you won’t see him sprawled on the couch, smirking.

Or worse.

The second you step inside, you heart it. The worse.

A laugh, his laugh, floating from his bedroom. And then another sound follows: the high-pitched giggle of a girl. Thin walls don’t lie.

You stop in the entryway, keys clutched too tight in your hand. Already your stomach is knots. Of course he has someone in there. Just like every single night in the last two weeks. And of course, he’s doing this at the exact same time you come home. 

You’re starting to think he’s doing this on purpose. 

And right on cue, as if summoned, his voice carries through the drywall. It’s loud and exaggerated, dripping with smugness. “Ohh, fuck, yeah. Just like that. Open your mouth wider. . . Yeahhh, gooood.”

A wet, gagging sound follows, timed so well it makes you flinch. You move stiffly past his door, jaw clenched, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But the second you drop your bag beside your bed with a heavy thud, you freeze.

“Careful, princess,” Caleb calls, voice playful now. “My roommate’s home. She’s probably listening right now.”

Your whole body jolts with heat—fury, embarrassment, something sharper. You bite your lip hard until you taste copper.

The sounds keep going. Sloppy sucking, choked moans, his voice praising filthily between chuckles. And the damn headboard thudding at what seems an animalistic rhythm.

“That’s it, baby… take it… take it all.” He groans so loud it rattles in your teeth. “Mmm, fuck, my roommate’s probably red as a tomato right now. Cute little thing.”

You slap your hands over your ears, pulse hammering, face burning. You can’t tell what’s worse—that he’s doing it to taunt you, or that some ugly, humiliating part of you is reacting at all.

Your thighs rub together in frantic little shifts, desperate friction against nothing. Your chest rises and falls too fast, nails biting into your sheets. You hate it—hate that your body is betraying you while his voice keeps bleeding through the wall, gravelly and hot, every word landing right between your legs. 

“Just like that,” he growls out loud. And you swear it’s for you to hear. Not even for the girl he seems to fuck senseless. “You’re such a good slut.”

Your stomach drops. Your throat burns. But something in you snaps.

Your hand slips between your thighs before you can stop it. Shaky fingers drag over your underwear, already embarrassingly damp. The shame is instant, but the relief of pressure makes you whimper before you can choke it back. You circle your clit in tiny, frantic movements, shallow and light, terrified of making noise. 

Your breath stutters against your pillow, sharp little gasps swallowed into cotton. 

It’s just stress. Just so I can sleep, you lie to yourself.

You bite down on the sheet the second your fingers slip under the fabric and graze your clit directly. Your whole body seizes. He can’t know. He can’t.

You clamp your thighs tighter, slick and messy as your fingers move faster, louder, the obscene sound wetting the air. Shame curls molten in your belly, burning through you, and still, you can’t stop.

And unfortunately, it’s not enough. You’re too wound up, too far gone—too fucked out on his voice. You reach under the bed blindly, tugging out the vibrator you swore you’d never need because of him.

But here you are.

The hum fills the room, loud to your ears, and you panic—you shove a pillow over it and grind the toy against your sensitive part anyway. The pleasure hits hard, back arching at the electric shock. It rips through you so fast you moan before you can stop yourself. 

Mortification shreds through you. You clap a hand over your mouth, tears pricking your eyes, but your hips are rolling against the vibrator like they have a mind of their own. Your fingers slide inside you, messy and needy, fucking yourself in time with the rhythm of skin slapping on the other side of the wall. 

His rhythm. 

His game.

The thought makes you burn. 

You’re writhing above the sheets, a soaked, pathetic mess, shame and want tangled until you can’t tell one from the other. Every wet squelch of your fingers, every buzzing grind of the toy is louder than your heartbeat.

“That’s it,” Caleb’s voice cut through everything. It’s husky and curling right into your ear, halting your frantic movements. “Be louder for me, pipsqueak.”

Your heart slam in against your ribcage. Mortification chokes you, but it only fuels the need clawing under your skin. You grind down against the toy, your slick fingers working yourself open, sobs catching in your chest as shame pools hot in your gut. Tears sting your eyes, blurring your vision, soaking your pillow. 

You’re so lost in everything; your mind doesn’t wonder why he’s calling after you instead of the girl he’s supposedly fucking. 

Because right now, it feels like he’s inside your room. Inside your head. Inside you.

The headboard on his side slams again, so hard your wall rattles, perfectly in rhythm with the frantic buzzing between your legs. His voice comes again, ragged this time, like he’s getting off just from hearing you break. “Mmm, I can hear it, you know. The way you’re dripping all over your sheets. Filthy little roommate can’t even help herself.”

A strangled cry tears from your throat—you shove your face into the pillow, body arching, thighs shaking around the vibrator. The pressure building inside you is unbearable, so sharp it borders on pain. 

Your fingers curl deep, your wrist aching, the toy grinding ruthless against your clit, and you realize in some distant, horrified corner of your mind that not only you’re timing yourself with the endless slam of his bed but also his voice.

Every word he spits through the wall makes you go faster, harder. 

“God, you sound so pretty when you fall apart,” he groans, and this time it feels real. Not a performance nor a show. It feels it’s just for you and only you. “Cum for me. Right now.”

Heat detonates inside you, violent and overwhelming, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that makes your vision go white. You convulse against your bed, sticky and soaked, your thighs squeezing the toy so tight it squeals against your skin. Slick gushes down your hand, coating your fingers, the sound of it obscene in the room. 

It doesn’t stop.

Wave after wave, it keeps crashing into you.

And through it all, you recall little pants following with a single broken growl.

And just as you think you can breathe again, his voice drifts through, soft and poisonous, curling into the rawest part of you: “Sweet dreams, pipsqueak.”

──────ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The shower runs longer than it should. Scalding water, steam filling the bathroom, your hands scrubbing your skin raw as if you can erase what happened last night. As if shame washes off as easily as sweat. 

When you step out, your body is red from the heat, hair dripping, towel wrapped tight around you. You breathe deep, trying to calm the hammering in your chest. 

You open the door—

“Well, well,” Caleb leans against the hallway wall, one shoulder propped, mug dangling in his hand, purple eyes cutting to you the instant you appear. His gaze sweeps down slow taking on your dripping hair, bare shoulders, towel clutched too tight against your damp skin, the thin strip of thigh peeking when you shift. “Morning really is good, huh?”

Your throat tightens. You grip the towel harder. “Move.”

His head tilts slightly, gaze lingering far too long where the terrycloth curves over your chest. “You always come out looking like this?” his voice drips, curling filth and amusement together. 

Heat flares up your neck, traitorous and hot. You force your eyes anywhere but him—at the mug, the floor, anywhere. “Caleb,” you bite out, “I’m not doing this right now.”

“Mmm.” He steps closer. The air crackles, your pulse jumping, his grin widening. “Funny, ‘cause last night you were doing a lot.”

Your stomach plummets. The words hit like a punch, shame flooding hot in your chest. You want to scream, shove him. But instead, you choose to play his games. If you were going to feel shame, being humiliated… you wouldn’t be the only one.

You lift your chin, meeting his stare head-on. “And what about you?” your voice comes sharp. “Jacking yourself off like some creep in your room? Using some poor audio to make me think a girl was with you? Pfff, pathetic.”

Caleb freezes for the briefest flicker of a second, smile twitching at the edges—before he darts out his tongue, licking his bottom lip. 

The tension spikes. His gaze doesn’t move from yours, but you feel it everywhere, crawling over your towel, tugging heat low in your stomach against your will.

Your fingers tighten around the fabric. You take a step forward at the same he does—your chests almost colliding, the air suddenly electric you find it hard to breathe. “You’re disgusting, Caleb. And if you think I’d ever let you touch me—” you let your eyes flick down to his mug, then back up, a sharp smirk of your own breaking through. “I’d rather pour that coffee over my crotch.”

For a moment, you expect another sly grin, another jab… but not seeing his arrogance draining from his voice and speaking with a voice that doesn’t sound like him anymore.

“You’re not really thinking that.” he says with such a petite voice… fragile. 

It throws you off balance. Your smirk falters. “…What?”

He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. His purple eyes dart down your towel, then snap back up to your face with a desperation so naked it almost looks like panic. “Don’t say that…” he whispers. “Don’t—don’t say you’d never let me touch you.”

The heat in your stomach twists into something else. The sudden crack in him makes your grip on the towel tremble.

“You’re not serious,” you try, forcing sharpness into your tone, but it comes out thinner than you want.

But he shakes his head so hard his fluffy hair shifts, and the mug in his hand clatters against the wall when he sets it down too fast. He steps in closer, eyes wide and glassy.

“The fuck is happening,” you murmur to yourself, taking a step back.

“You think I’m teasing but… I need you.” the last words are almost screamed at your face. “I swear, you don’t get it, do you? I can’t—fuck—I can’t stand it when you look at me like you hate me, because I know—” his hand lifts halfway, then stop, trembling in the air as if touching you would be blasphemy. “—I know I’d ruin everything just to feel you once.”

 Your throat dries. Your knees nearly lock. The sheer naked want pouring out of him knocks you back harder than any of his smirks ever could.

And then, before you can form a response, Caleb does something you never thought you’d see: he drops.

Straight down. His knees hit the hardwood with a dull thud, his head bowed for one second before snapping back up, eyes locked on you from below. The hallway light carves shadows into his face, but nothing can hide the wreck of him. His hands fist at his thighs, shaking with the effort of not grabbing your towel, not clutching your skin.

“Don’t tell me never,” he begs, voice breaking in a way you’ve never heard from him. “Say anything else, call me every name you want to, scream at me, hit me—fuck, pour the coffee if you have to. But don’t say I’ll never get to touch you.” his breath is ragged, almost delirious, his words tumbling too fast. He shakes his head, tears pricking up at the corner of his eyes. “Please, I’m just—I’m already half insane just imagining it.”

The towel feels unbearably heavy on your body now, every inch of exposed skin prickling under his stare. 

Your fingers clutch tighter at the terrycloth, knuckles pale. Your mind screams to step back, to slam the bathroom door and lock him out forever. But your body? Your body leans forward.

And maybe he feels it—because his hands twitch, fists pressed to his thighs as if holding himself down. His breath is sharp, uneven, every inhale rattling like he’s starved of air.

“Caleb,” you whisper, half a warning, half a question.

He looks up at you with eyes that no longer gleam smug purple—they burn, wild and frantic. His jaw clenches, unclenches. He looks like he wants to crawl inside your skin just to be closer.

“You don’t… you don’t understand,” he rasps. “Every time you walk past me in that tiny shirt, every time you glare, every time you slam your door—I’m losing my mind. I jerk off just hearing you breathe in your room. I fuck my fist like I’m drowning, imagining what you’d sound like if I had you under me. I don’t even care if you hate me. I just want—” His voice cracks, his head dips against your stomach, forehead brushing the towel. “—I just want to touch you.”

“That’s lame.” you say down at him, but your voice isn’t steady.

He shudders and you catch the twitch under his short. It makes you all more confused. He is fucking turned on by you degrading him.

His hands lift, shaking, hovering close to your hips but no daring to land. His lips part, teeth grazing his bottom lip. “Call me whatever you want, truly.”

Your hand finds its way on his soft hair. You let your nails graze his scalp, tugging his head backward. “And what if I like watching you crawl?”

His laugh is wrecked, breathless. “Then I’ll crawl until my knees bleed if that’s what it takes.” He drags a ragged breath, eyes devouring you. “Don’t shut me out.”

The words hang heavy. You feel dizzy. Alive. Cornered.

Every single emotions fight in you, your thighs press together under the towel, and his gaze darts down instantly, catching the subtle motion.

His breath quickens. His hands finally land—barely, fingertips brushing against the towel’s edge like he’s asking permission without saying the words. He doesn’t pull. He just waits.

And it’s unbearable. The silence, his kneeling frame, your own pulse thrashing. You hear yourself speak before you mean to: “You’re disgusting.”

“Then let me be disgusting,” he begs instantly, no shame, voice cracking at the edges.

Your mouth dries. And that’s when his lips curl again, trembling this time with much less confidence than usual. 

“Didn’t you enjoy last night?” his words drip into you, hitting the deepest part of you. “Just from me talking? From imagining me fucking you? Did you even imagine me fucking you?” His breath hitches, his voice breaking with need. “Tell me truth.”

Your jaw locks, your chest heaves—but the truth burns its way out of you anyway.

“…Yes.”

The word lands like a gunshot. His pupils blow wide, his chole body jolting as he’s been electrocuted. And then he’s closer, kneeling forward until his forehead pressed into your thighs.

“Then let me show you…” his hands clutch at the towel now, knuckles white. “Please, pipsqueak. Let me show you how much better it could be if you let me. I swear I’ll make you forget everything but me… fuck… just give me one chance.”

Your lungs tighten. You can feel the heat rolling off him, his mouth so close to your thigh that steam still clinging to your skin feels cold in comparison.

He leans in until his mouth is a breath from your thigh, inhaling the clean scent of your damp skin like it’s intoxicating him. “You don’t even know what you do to me,” he whispers, his forehead pressing lightly against your leg. “I’m on my knees for you, pipsqueak. I’ve been holding this back for months—” His thumb strokes an inch higher, over the edge of the towel, slow enough for you to feel the tremor in his hand.

“Are you… clean?”

He nods hard. “Yeah... I mean yes. I take tests every couple of weeks. I swear, I even have the papers with me. I—” he starts to lift himself from the ground but your other hand clamp tight around his shoulder the other still buried on his hair.

“That’s okay. I believe you.” your breath stumbles. Your thighs spread just wide enough before you say: “Go ahead.”

He surges forward. His lips crash against your inner thigh in a fevered kiss, hot and wet, the sound of it obscene in the quiet hallway.

His big hands slip higher, finally peeling at the knot of your towel, tugging it loose to let it slide down your body. It crumples uselessly to the floor, and Caleb groans like he’s been handed salvation.

“Fuck,” he hisses against your skin, kissing higher, higher, his teeth scraping lightly. “Been dreaming about this—” another kiss, wetter this time, “—about tasting you—” his tongue drags along the sensitive skin, “—losing my mind between your thighs.”

Your knees nearly buckle, but his grip steadies you, pinning your hips to the wall. He noses shamelessly against your heat. He inhales you, taking on your raw scent and it’s damn better than your panties.

“Gonna ruin me, pipsqueak,” he rasps, lips brushing right where you throb most. “And I’m gonna love every second of it.”

His nose nudges your pubic bones as he kisses your clit delicately. Just his hot lips grazing your sensitive part in such a loving way your heart stumbles even more. He opens his mouth slowly, wrapping around your soft lips, creating a sloppy succession until you whimper above him. His hands slide further back, palms rough against the backs of your thighs, dragging you closer to his mouth until you’re trapped between him and the wall.

He moans into you, vibrating against your flesh. His tongue flicks out, trembling as if he’s holding himself back, but the tremor only makes the stroke more uneven and hungrier. He drags it up one side of your folds, down the other, then circles your clit, open-mouthed.

“Fuck, yes…” he mumbles into your skin, the words a hot breath you feel more than hear. “This is what I wanted. This is all I thought about. You… you taste better than I dreamed—”

He breaks off, groaning low, hands sliding up to cup your ass, kneading roughly. He pulls you impossibly closer, flattening his tongue, lapping long and slow, then sealing his mouth around your twitching nub. Your vision blurs in instant, your fingers gripping harder his hair.

He pulls back, chin already shining with your essence, the pretty shade of violet almost drowned under the hungry black of his pupils. “Should we—should we take this further? Up to your room?” his grip is bruising on your thighs.

“Yes, Caleb.” Your breath comes ragged, syncing with his. 

In one motion, Caleb rises on his feet, strong arms scooping you up. Your legs hook around his waist on instinct, your cheek finding its place against his shoulder as he carries you down the short hallway. His heartbeat drums against your chest, quick and uneven. 

He lowers you slowly onto the sheets, bracing himself on either side of your head, his necklace swinging loose, threatening to tangle in his shirt. His voice comes rough but quiet, trembling at the edges. “Might I kiss you? Please?” His breath is hot against your flushed skin, eyes flicking between your lips and your gaze. 

And you’re so tired of him always asking—of hesitation, of the restraint. You grab the back of his neck and crash your lips against his. The sound he makes is something lower, rawer, unnamable—a noise that shakes straight through you both.

Your tongue slides along his bottom lip, tasting yourself on him, salt and heat all over taste buds. His hands slide up your sides, fingertips tracing fire wherever they go.

He nudges your legs apart, slotting himself between your thighs, the press of him thick through his clothes. His left hand slides up, cupping your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheekbones as his tongue parts your lips and claims the kiss fully.

“Caleb,” you break the kiss, panting onto his mouth, a string of spit linking you both. “Don’t be soft. I don’t want that.”

He snaps his eyes to you, searching your face. “…What—”

“Be yourself, want you whole.” You whisper, grinding shamelessly on his bulge.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His hands trace a slow path along your skin, leaving behind sparks that make it hard to breathe. His breath skims your collarbone; his words are a ghost against your pulse. “But as the lady wishes.”

He gets on his knees between you, getting rid of all his clothes—except his boxer. You twitch from anticipation.

His large hands roam your body, playing with your tits. He pinches them and turn them on his thumbs before his teeth close around it, tongue swirling and mouth clamping. While the other plays with the softness of the untouched one.

He leaves it with spit and glistening, he smirks—proud of him. He fumbles at his underwear, palming his hardened length, hot breaths contrasting with his cold necklace on your burning skin. 

He removes the only remaining thing keeping you on edge, and your eyes instantly widen. His cock is flushed and wet at the tip—pre-cum already drippling down his shaft. A long vein is lustfully pronounced from the base of his cock to the underside of his mushroom tip. 

Your mouth waters at the thought of him filling you completely—that delicious curve of him hitting your spots.

Leaning closer, he presses against you, letting you feel every rough contour. The tension between you stretches taut, the room silent except for your ragged, shared pants.

Your eyes drop, tracing the thick, throbbing length before you—stopping just beneath your bellybutton. It’s impossibly large, and the sight makes your hips buck instinctively, your clit brushing against the coarse pubic hair at its base.

“One little, greedy thing we have here,” he mocks, but the flush in his cheeks betrays him. “You will take all this, just fine, right?”

You answer without words, grinding harder against him, the friction sending sparks through both of you. Pre-cum slicks your lower stomach, and you coat his balls in a warm, wet sheen.

Caleb wraps his hand around himself, slapping his cock roughly against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your thighs tremble, your back arches, and your cunt clenches around nothing—it’s already enough to make you shiver.

But not for too long. 

He lines his cock up at your entrance, pushing in sloooowly. Letting you feel every thick ridge, every vein pulsing along your hot walls. You find support on his strong back, nails digging crescents moon, your eyes rolling back from the stretch alone.

“That’s riiiight,” he pants into your ear, tongue darting out to lick your earlobe. “Let this pretty pussy take me all. You’re doing sooo good.” And Caleb might just as well be delirious now. Your cunt is spasming endlessly around him. The more he pushes, the more your cream coats him, dripping down onto his balls. 

Once he bottoms out, he’s on the verge of cumming hot ropes in your womb. The sensation is exquisite. His cock, beautifully and incredibly, wrapped in your warm, soft walls sponging him like in a dream.

His biceps are bulging, veins tracing down his forearms as lifts himself above you. He presses your thighs up to your chest, forcing his dick impossibly deeper in your heaven. 

The chain of his necklace brushes your face. Your eyelids feel heavy but you fight to keep them open, too gone on the full stretch he’s giving you, fuckin’ thick veins grazing your sweetest spots.

“C-caleb,” you whimper, voice ragged as you speak. “M-move—that’s so good and—mghn… not enough—” tears are sliding down your cheeks, feeling his cock hardening even more inside you.

“Pipsqueak,” he growls, his rough palms circle the back of your thighs, taking leverage as he slides out. The sudden release of stretch makes you cry out, hips chasing him unconsciously. “You’re insane…”

And in a strong, sharp thrust he’s back deep inside you, pushing the air out of your lungs. The cold necklace hitting your chin on the way.

“Fuck—!” your voices harmonizing. 

“S-such a fuckin’ tight pussy,” he pants, sweat glinting along his temple. You can’t hold back—your tongue darts out, licking him clean, desperate to taste every inch.

That’s when Caleb loses all restraint. Every ounce of control shatters as he rams into you brutally, the bed creaking beneath the force. You moan, loud and unrestrained, drowning in the pleasure he drives into you.

He angles his hips so each time he pulls out, he swollen tip of him drags along your G-spot, making your walls clamp down harder. An obscene white creamy ring circles his cock already, slick all over his happy trail and thighs.

And he’s so drowned in this obscene scene playing before him. With your mouth falling onto a prefect O, your nails likely to leave red marks on his back, your cunt greedily sucking him in. Caleb couldn’t help but animalistically rut into you, dragging more and more sounds from deep in your chest. 

“Stick out your tongue,” he orders.

Fuzzy-headed, desperate, you obey instantly, letting your tongue slide out to him. He gathers a generous drop of spit and lets it fall onto your eager mouth. “Swallow it. Like a good girl,” he commands.

You obey, lips closing, eyes squeezed shut, swallowing the hot, sticky liquid.

He folds you harder in half, until your knees are touching your ears. His balls slap and slap against your ass, stimulating you and driving you deeper in the abyss of pleasure. Your vision blurs, white on the edge as the perfect curve of his cock hits the deepest part of you. 

His palm travels down your belly, right where he’s bulging hard in your tummy. He presses heavily on the filthy mark he’s leaving. 

You feel helpless under his strong frame, mindlessly twitching and moaning under his rough assault. All you’re good at now, is taking his cock just the way he wants you to.

“I’m allll the way up here,” he says darkly, pressing his palm with the right amount to have you squirming. “You’re going to cum, ain’t you?” he teases, but he’s not better. His cock swells hard in your tight walls, bullets of pre-cum filling you. His teeth grit, arms bulging as he holds you down. 

“You’re squeezin’ me sooo good,” he bites his bottom lip, his happy trail brushing against your neglected clit, sending sparks through your already fried nerves. He licks a filthy, possessive path from the base of your throat to your lips—muscles taut, sweat coating his brow, the sound of your pornographic moans feeding the fire in him.

“Oh—Oh! Fuck, like that—jus’, fuuuuck!” you try to finish your sentence but it’s no use. Your brain short-circuited from the relentless pounding. Every nerve, every thought, every ounce of control melted away long ago. There’s only you, being fucked raw by his monstruous cock and stamina.

“Y-yeah… got you. Cum for me,” he says love-sick. He stiffens, whimpering as his own climax builds.

Your body spasms violently, cunt clenching. Your walls milk him for all he got, white-hot waves of pleasure crashing through you. Heat, wetness, and the smell of him fill your senses, every nerve ending alive, every inch of you surrendered.

He fucks you harder, plunging deeper. The bed shakes, the air vibrates with your cries and his guttural noises, both of you locked in a rhythm of feral pleasure. His arms tremble, his chest heaving, as he finally tips over the edge—spilling into you.

Even as he comes, he doesn’t pull back. He keeps thrusting, keeping you suspended on the edge of raw, animalistic bliss. 

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Leaning on the wall between the crew deck and the business class cabin you watch your subordinates prepare each seat for the incoming passengers, fluffing cushions, cleaning away any excess trash from the previous flight, and ensuring everything is in place.

Caleb and his co-pilot, Gideon (another missing person you knew), are expected to get to the plane at any minute. They're expected to see you again.

Despite the anger, the reminiscing, despite it all, you find your fingers fumbling with jittery nerves. Sharp pangs strike your chest every time you recall his smiles, his eyes, his hands, his touch, the joy you shard with him, and the pain from not hearing from him for years.

You're burning with anger, weeping with the remnants of your pain, and jittery with hope. Hope to restart, or even continue from where you left off.

"Chief," One of your subordinates snap you out of your thoughts. 'Chief' was a title you earned as a joke but your coworkers have made a habit of using it as a term of endearment and respect. What can you say? You do a good job.

"The pilots. They're here." Fuck everything you just told yourself. There's only fear.

You will yourself to walk to the front entrance, watching them ascend the stairs, wind flowing through their blazers like a gentle kiss goodbye from the elements.

You'd recognise him any day. You've studied him to the atom. He's changed.

His hat rests in his hand with a small suitcase. A shaded pair of glasses sits on his face perfectly, protecting his eyes from the cruel blaze of the sun. He's smiling. You hadn't seen that smile in so long.

As he draws closer to you, you force yourself to swallow your nerves and clench and unclench your fists in the hopes of grounding yourself. It's definitely making you notice he's much more muscular. And taller. And more handsome–

His hands remove his glasses as he reaches you and that does it. If not for your need to maintain professionalism you would have burst into tears. Those beautiful sunset eyes are exactly the same. Radiant, shining, and brimming with stories of you and him.

His smile trembles as his eyes dart all over your face, almost like he couldn't believe that you're here. His grip on his hat tightens.

Sharply breathing through your nose, you serenely smile as you would when interacting with passengers. "Welcome to Linkon Air, gentlemen." You step aside to grant them access to the aircraft. "It is a pleasure to work alongside you."

You smooth down your skirt as they walk by giving their thanks. Your eyes dart to the air traffic controllers out of habit, ensuring everything is in order. They have a pattern that you've learned to track since there'd always be a ton of time before prepping for passengers to arrive.

Although it's likely been minutes since you scanned the roadway, you feel a pair of familiar eyes burning right into your back.

The flight (at least for the first few hours) goes relatively smoothly. You got sleep after takeoff, since your previous flight exhausted you. Your team worked diligently, leaving you with light work as you switched shifts for the second half of the flight.

The sun has been setting from what you've seen doing your rounds checking on the passengers in the economy and business cabins. By the time you get back to your deck, the stars begin to speckle the endless horizon.

Carrying your habits from your university days, the first thing you do is make a cup of coffee as strong as it can get over tens of thousands of metres above ground. The cardboard cup in your hand unexpectedly brings back a flood of memories. Memories of your younger days. 

Memories of Caleb.

Tremors build as the aircraft reaches the higher through the clouds as the sky completely darkens, leaving you with the stars and the blinking lights of the wings. Turbulence is about to strike the plane— hopefully there aren’t any screamers on this flight.

You slowly sip your caffeinated paradise considering whether you should wait for the mini turbulence to calm or to ride it out to serve meals to the passengers. Anything to distract you from him for the time being. Just enough to get the job done.

The soft push of the door behind you send your shoulders twitching into tension but you keep your gaze right ahead. Your grip on the counter is tight enough to make your knuckles go pale against your skin.

“You look good as chief.” Your eyes flutter shut, instantly sinking into familiarity and warmth. His voice. His damned voice.

“You look good alive.” Your tone is gruffer than anticipated. You almost feel bad.

You can hear his footsteps get louder as he draws near you. Closer and closer until he’s right behind you, towering over you. “I’m–“

“Sorry?” You huff, chugging down what remains of your coffee. “I would have probably taken that five years ago. Probably. But you've said nothing. Nothing!” Your voice falls into a hushed shriek to avoid catching the attention of the attendants serving the food through the business cabin. 

Caleb’s gloved hand swiftly closes the curtains to separate you both from the cabin, at least in terms of sight. His hand slowly trails down until it’s just a twitch away from your own. “I was assigned to join the Fleet for off-planet missions.” He informs you in a hushed tone, almost too professional and commandeering for your liking. "I didn't have a choice."

“Really now, cadet?” You scoff, almost tempted to roll your eyes just like you used to whenever you didn’t believe the things he’d say. 

“Colonel.”

“That high up in the ranks, huh?” Considering the limit of space you have, you aim to toss the cup into the bin and hit it perfectly inside. “In a span five years too, very realistic.”

“Maybe we should stop dancing around in this pettiness.” You can almost hear the exasperation in his voice. And the smallest sliver of desperation.

“Perhaps you’d find it hard to be familiar with someone you assumed was dead for five years—“ You hiss as you attempt to side step away from him, only for his other hand to slam down on the counter, holding you in place.

A warm draft hits your neck directly from his breath touching your skin for the first time in so, so long. “I didn’t have a choice, pips.”

“I…” Damn him and his warmth for making you start to forget your anger. “I don’t believe you.” 

“How can I get you to believe in me?” He whispers, lips nearing your skin. Hot shivers run straight down your spine. Your head leans towards him out of instinct, so familiar and natural. “Tell you classified information? What the Fleet has been doing outside of public knowledge?”

His hand rests on top of yours, warm to the touch and gentle in grip. “Didn’t you get my letters?” His lips ghost over your ears. You can almost hear the tinge of hurt in his words. “Like the ones we used to send each other back when we were kids?”

Letters? You hadn’t gotten anything. When you visited your grandmother to ask if she received any correspondence she would always say no— oh.

“She got rid of them.” You finish your thought out loud. Even if you looked they’d likely be ashes before you get home.

“Of course.” The plane’s floor rumbles with his brewing agitation. He doesn’t even want to think about what that old woman was doing to prevent the two of you from having contact for all those years. But you’re here with him, and that’s all that matters. He’s more than ready to spend the next five years grovelling for your forgiveness.

“Caleb,” His eyes flutter shut at his name leaving your lips. There’s no anger, no resentment, only that familiar reverence you two used to share. “You sent letters?”

“Every single day.” You feel his head drop into the junction between your shoulders and neck, fitting just right. “Even when I thought I was going to be trapped in Deepspace, I wrote letters in paper, sent transmissions, did everything I thought would reach you. But since she destroyed them all—“

Caleb pauses in his tracks, deeply inhaling your scent through the thick layers of your uniform. Through the perfume foreign to his senses and the familiar smell of fabric softener, there you were. His favourite aroma, the only one keeping him sane (mind you, his only other source was your hoodie and pair of panties which obviously didn’t last him five years worth of sniffing). 

“Doesn’t matter,” He grumbles, voice muffled by your clothes. “You’re here. I’m here. And I’m not gonna disappear on you again. Not if I can do anything about it.”

Trembles strike the plane again before you can respond; this time more violent. Loud cries echo from beyond the curtain separating you and the passengers as the turbulence topples your balance. You both jerk forward, pressed uncomfortably against the counter, holding on for dear life.

“Must’ve been a while since you had air turbulence, huh?” You grin to yourself, feeling how tight his grip on your hand is. His knuckles are practically turning white. “Space didn’t prepare you for that did it?”

Caleb makes no response other that a suppressed choke. “Caleb?”

The aircraft trembles again pushing you closer together, so much so that you can feel something very hard prodding you from behind. Very hard. Familiarly hard.

You hadn't felt it in so long, your body can't help but respond intuitively. You lean into him, arching your back as he's pushed closer to you. It's as if he's constantly orbiting you in an endless gravitational pull.

Neither of you try to pull away. It's all too familiar and you don't want to run away from the very thing you haven't had in years.

His length strains against the confines of his pants, accentuating its girth and the aggressive throbbing on your core. The turbulence brings your hips into a shaky rhythm moving back and forth, grinding on each other and bringing your minds into a complete haze.

"Pips–" Caleb groans into your shoulder in a sore attempt to conceal his noises. The commotion in the passenger cabins rise as your subordinates urge them to remain calm. There is no way any of them would think to come in your direction– hopefully none of them will try.

A moan slips through your lips as his hips grind up against you in that exact delicious way he used to do it back then. Back when you had all the time to yourselves. When you had each other.

Heat pools at your core, turning your legs to jelly. His head is buried in the crook of your neck, subjecting him to your scent that hasn't changed despite the years. Still that enamouring smell that always drove him insane.

You could stay like this forever, in his hold, in this state as dangerous as it may be. For as long as you need to so long as you can live in the knowledge that Caleb will never leave again. You'd do everything to make sure of that.

"Caleb!" Gideon yells through the muffled door of the cockpit, snapping you both out of your trance. "Get back here!"

Caleb sharply inhales before pulling himself away from you, stumbling back with a ramble of apologies.

"I'm sorry, I– I–" He shakes his head and swiftly turned to the cockpit. "Forgive me, I need to attend to my duties."

The door clicks shut, leaving you to stand in the aftershock of your deeds. You don't have the time to ponder and reflect, you need to do your job.

It doesn't take long to calm the passengers down. After handing out snacks, speaking to passengers, and tying the odd few to their seats with their own seatbelts all while trying to ignore the wetness pooling at your core, the turbulence finally calms.

You can't help but feel hot in your uniform. After that, there's no coherent thought apart from Caleb.

Caleb, Caleb, Caleb.

His scent. His touch. The way his lips automatically found your neck but did not kiss your flesh. The way his hips moved with yours– it wasn't just the tremors of the plane, you were both moving together. His cock was so damn hard you thought it would make his pants unzip on its own.

You close your eyes, shuddering at the memory. It's becoming increasingly hard to maintain composure. To stay professional. But you're practically shivering with need.

Every step you take rubs the soaked cotton fabric of your panties against your clit. Every touch on your skin sends hot shivers right down to your core. Merely hearing your colleagues swoon over Caleb makes your walls clench and your gut boil in brewing jealousy.

Such a shame they didn't get to see how he was practically losing himself just moments ago.

The feeling becomes almost unbearable. The need burning deep within you becomes too much to ignore. You have to talk to him. You have to do something.

You close your eyes and straighten your back. There's a few hours left of the flight. Most of your colleagues are sleeping in their cabins. You've completed your shift. Just a few more hours.

Your hand hovers over the door to the cockpit. You just need to knock. Simple as that.

Just as your fist is about to land on the door, it slides open.

"Oh, sorry!" Gideon apologises as he steps out. "Didn't mean to startle you. By the way, do you know where your colleague is? The short, cute one."

You raise your brow in suspicion. "For what reason?"

"Nothing." He quickly responds, shoving his hands into his pockets. From what you can recall, Gideon has always had a habit of hiding his hands whenever he lied.

"Right." You sarcastically nodded. "She's in the back. Alone." You step aside you let him go through the cabin. "Don't make too much noise. Some passengers are still awake."

He simply grinned and scurried off, practically skipping as he moved.

If Gideon isn't in there anymore, that means it's just Caleb. An open opportunity.

You look around you to make sure you're fully alone and without another thought you step inside and swiftly close the door behind you.

"You shouldn't be here." His voice shoots through you like wine engulfing your tastebuds. He's standing behind his chair, hand flipping through papers that you assume are flight directives.

"I have authorisation." You defiantly stand your ground.

"By what grounds?"

"This isn't the Fleet, Caleb." You cross your arms, leaning on the door. The pounding on your chest grows louder and louder the longer his eyes look straight into yours. "Things are different here."

Caleb's eyes flutter shut as he groans. His hands move to cover the growing tent in his pants. "Don't say that."

"Don't say what, Caleb?"

"Don't say my name like that."

You raise a brow in challenge. "Caleb." You step forward. "Caleb." This time you speak in a soft whine. "Caleb." Agression. "Caleb." Need. "Caleb, Caleb, Caleb–"

His hands hold your face and he backs you against the cockpit entrance, breath heavy with a familiar scent. The scent of restricted desire. You used to hate when he held himself back.

"I tried everything, pipsqueak, everything to reach you." Your eyes closed, hands mirroring his own by holding his face and stroking his skin. His freckles are still there. His pores that you used to poke are still there. His eyelashes are still there. The incision scar from his eyebrow piercing he had when you were younger is still there. Everything is still as it was.

"I never wanted to leave," He whispers. "I wanted to stay. I fought to stay."

"I believe you." You stroke his cheeks, staring deep into his eyes. "I forgive you. I..." You hesitate, afraid it's too soon to say. But you have nothing to lose. "I adore you still, desire you still. I want you."

Caleb's hands twitched as he glanced away from your gaze. "It's been years," He whispers, unable to unite his lips with your own. "I don't even know who you've–"

"I haven't." You reach to hold his face, gently stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. "It's always been you. Only you."

Caleb huffs a quiet laugh. "Your hands are still so soft." His fear melts into adoration, soothing his nerves. "So warm."

You lean up, finally pressing your lips on his. It almost feels like the first time. His lips are soft, reminding you of how you teased him into using more lip balm. He must have kept the habit.

His hands wander lower and lower until they reach your waist and the back of your neck, maintaining a gentle grip on you. Gentle becomes needy, and needy becomes intense.

Caleb moans into your mouth as your tongue slips through his lips, tasting him like a delicacy you hadn't had in years (which is true). His hands instantly drip to your ass, palming over your curves as his hips grind against yours to remind you of his needy hard on.

Your clit tingles with desperate need as your tongues move together, not for dominance but in the greatest form of reverence you can possibly muster. Your hand reaches down to his throbbing bulge, almost nervous to feel him once more. His hips jerk to your touch.

"Please, pips," He whimpers against your lips. Your skirt raises above your hips to grant him access to your soaked panties. "I need you."

You waste no time unbuckling his belt, lips still on his, to free his cock from its confines. You almost forgot how big he is. Your hand can barely wrap around him, for one. His sacks feel so heavy in your hands, making you imagine things you wouldn't dare dignify with words. Three veins travel up his length and end before they reach his reddened tip that's leaking drops of warm precum. You thumb his slit, covering your finger in his juices to bring out a string of moans that you've almost forgotten.

"Missed you," Caleb sputters, leaning down to attack your neck with hot kisses. His calloused fingers pull your panties aside to feel your arousal, collecting your juices until it's slick enough to rub your sensitive clit. "Missed this."

Your nails claw at his nape as your grinds turn into dry ruts, unable to coherently think of anything other than satiating your need for each other.

"Caleb," You moan into his ear, tongue slithering around his earlobe as his fingers finally sink into your pussy. "The plane–"

"Autopilot." His voice is slightly muffled from his lips sucking endless marks onto your skin. "Where's Gideon?"

"With a flight attendant," You grin to yourself. "They'll be busy for a while."

His chuckle sends warmth spreading through your body like nostalgic shock before he engulfs you in his embrace again, kissing you deep and hard until all you can think about is him.

His lips are gentle on yours, almost like he can't bring himself to believe that you're here with him. The context doesn't matter. The risk serves no meaning to him. All he wants... is you.

Caleb reluctantly pulls away from your addictive hold to catch his breath. The scent of mint fans your face as he breathes deeply with you. You can't help but lean closer to his lips, desperate to feel him again. And again. And again until you're sick of him.

But you never will be.

"I need you," You mutter using your free hand to free the skin of your neck for him to suckle and mark.

And he responds swiftly, teeth sinking into your flesh unlike all those other times where he'd gently tease and lick you. Now his nibbles have turned into full-on bites, leaving wet trails of his saliva as an additional mark to his ministrations.

"I've missed you so, so much," You choke on your whispers, feeling tears well in your eyes again. "You can't ever leave me like that again."

"I know," Caleb murmured as his lips pressed another loving peck on another lovebite he leaves on your skin. "I'll never leave you again. Never. Not if I can do anything about it."

Your hand rises from his chest to his hair to tug him back. His eyes roll back with a poorly swallowed groan. "Promise me." It's hard to concentrate with how close you two are, how his cock throbs and twitches in your hand, how your bodies respond to each other like clockwork.

"Promise you'll never leave again." You tug his hair harder, hoping it will emphasise your point. "I swear, I'll keep you by my side at all times if I have to–"

Caleb swallows your surprised moan as he latches his lips back onto yours. The last thing he wants you to do is spiral while you're with him. To worry about an impossible event. He will never leave. He'd kill anyone who tries to take him from you. And if he had to show you to prove himself, he'd do it without hesitation.

"I'll never leave you again. Never." He rasps, hips jutting into your hand unable to ignore the pulsating need that makes his cock leak so much. Just for you. "I promise."

Your clothes ruffle and come apart, piece by piece until your shirts are completely unbuttoned, skirt pulled up to the waist and pants pulled down just above the knee. Your nipples are poking out of your bra, hardened and sensitive and needy for his tongue to worship.

"I've missed your taste." His tongue swirls around your pebbles, drawing one into a gentle suckle while his free hand attends to your other nipple to pinch and fondle.

Your eyes flutter shut as your head hits the wall. Oh, how you've missed the feeling of him on you like this. A soft moan flows out of your lips, hips grinding in immediate response to his touch– his love.

Caleb moans into your skin as if he's the one being touched, hands fondling your mounds. His tongue lavers spit all over your cleavage, soaking you completely.

It is inappropriate to be doing this. You should be doing your rotation and checking on passengers. Caleb should be flying the damn plane and not leaving two hundred lives in the hands of autopilot. But you couldn't care less. You wanted him. He wanted you. You needed each other.

And you wouldn't pass it up for the world– aviation laws be damned.

"I've missed how you feel," His lips wander lower as he brings himself to his knees. "How warm you are when you're with me. How you smile in the sun. You tight your pussy is when I'm deep inside you." His fingers, still pumping inside you slowly pull out to your dissatisfaction for him to taste.

"But I think I missed this the most." He closed his eyes, shamelessly moaning at your taste as soon as his fingers land on his tastebuds. "Fuck, pips. You don't know how crazy you make me feel."

He doesn't waste another second to taste you through the slight barrier of your panties– lace and red. Almost like the apples you used to eat together when you were younger. You both moan upon contact, your hands finding home in his hair and his mouth practically drooling.

"Caleb–" You whimper into your hand, worried that you'll make noise. The sun is beginning to rise on the horizon.

His tongue presses flat on your clothed clit, rolling the bundle of nerves around, checking if his old techniques were still valid to use. Your pleasured whimpers turned to soft moans as he eased your nerves with each flick of his tongue.

"You taste so divine." His hand reached down for his aching cock to stroke and tease.

His fingers circle around your entrance slowly and push deep into you in search for your sensitive core. It doesn't take long for the tip of his finger to push just the right spot, bringing your knees to a tremble.

His touch burned your flesh, sent shivers of warmth raging beneath your skin. It is endless, it's infinite, it's perfect.

You moan his name like a broken record, practically shivering with need and desire. You hook one leg over his shoulder, keeping his head in place with both your hands. His moans are muffled deep within your core as he tongues you relentlessly, desperate to give you as much as he can in a short pocket of time.

"Missed your tongue– missed your fucking tongue!" You whine. "Fuck, 'leb, I missed you so much– f-fuck– need you so bad!" Your hips rut up and down his face, lathering his face in your divine juices. You can tell Caleb it relishing in it, from the soft plapping sound coming from his hand working his cock.

"Look at you," You huff with a grin. He glances up with those sunset eyes of his completely glazed over with lust and desire. You brush his sweat-dampened cowlicks away from his forehead to stroke his skin with pure devotion. "Touching yourself for me when you should be flying this plane. Ruining me, devouring me. I want to do the same."

"Mmh," He groans into your pussy and pulls his tongue from you. "Not yet. When we land." He kisses your folds, practically making out with your pussy loud and sloppy. "Wanna take care of you, love you, give you what you've needed all these years."

He presses hot kisses up your body until he reaches your lips once more and slips his tongue right in for you to taste yourself. To relish in what drives him mad.

Your tongues dance a very familiar waltz that turns to a beloved tango, becoming more feverish, more needy, more reckless. His hands guide yours behind your back and turns you to face the door keeping you two separated from everyone outside.

"I want you right now." You both say simultaneously and laugh. For such a moment of debauchery, you would always find ways to laugh together. It's just like it was back then. You're glad, if anything.

Caleb tugs your panties further away from your core being more delicate than you expected. "For someone who used to steal my underwear, I'm surprised you haven't torn this pair."

"I intend on keeping it for myself." He grinned as he pressed another kiss on your neck. "For later use."

His cock rubs up and down and around your dripping pussy, tapping your sensitive clit with his cockhead, bumping it with every thrust as he lathers his length in your juices and his precum. "You're soaked, pips, yet you wrap around me so tightly. Practically squeezing."

"Just for you." You pant against the door. You arch into him, squeezing his girth with your thighs making him moan right into your ear. "Ah, it's all for you."

"And all of this–" He thrusts into your thighs again, securing a tight grip on your waist. "–is for you and you alone, my love."

My love. It is music to your ears.

"My love." He kisses the shell of your ear. "My devotion. My goddess. I vow to serve you. Love you. Protect you. To never leave you alone. I swear it."

He lines his tip with your entrance, shakily inhaling. It's been so damn long. And now you're both here. Finally.

"I'm yours." His cock sweetly slides into you in one swift thrust reducing you both to moaning messes. You fit each other like puzzle pieces designed for each other. You are truly made for each other.

"Fuck." Your hips move in tandem as his cock rocks in and out of you, sweet and slow to savour just how warm you are, how you wrap and squeeze around him so fucking well.

"You feel so good, pips." He whines into your ear, picking up his pace until your slick soaked skin claps loud enough to echo around the cockpit. "Oh my– s-so good. You're so good–"

Your minds become hazy as you lose yourselves in each other, hands scratching, gripping and squeezing what you can reach, his hands on the softness of your ass and your on his to push him as deep as possible. And then even deeper.

"Don't stop." You whine as he pushes his cock deeper and deeper inside until he's completely bottomed out inside you. That delicious squelching noise rings in your ears, driving you into a frenzy of desire and devotion. "Don't ever stop!"

His response is unintelligible, completely reduced to moans and mindless babbles about how perfect you are, how good you feel, everything he wants to do with you right here and now.

“Think about all the people who could be walking past.” Caleb moans into your ear as he pounds his cock into you, dragging his length in and out until your joint slick drips down your legs. “Gideon could walk in at any moment. One of your subordinates could be looking for you. One of the passengers might just hear the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

His hand reaches your neatly secured hair and gently tugs at it, granting himself more access to your exposed neck. He suckles a large bruise right where anyone can see it and sinks his teeth right into you. Your back arches from the pain and your pussy walls flutter from the pleasure, making you come completely undone from the thrill of being caught alone. 

“We both know how much you like the idea of being caught. I like it too.” Caleb muses as he continues to plough you through your orgasm.

“Gets me harder.” His thrusts slow to a cruel yet lewd grind. “Makes me consider risking it all just to feel you squeeze around me. Just to have you milk me dry.” His hand reaching to swirl your clit in circles. Your moans become cries, relentlessly growing louder until he has to stuff his fingers into your mouth.

“We don’t want to get too much attention, pips.” He whines as your walls clench tight enough to snap his cock in half. It just feels so damn good. But the risk is too high. He would rather having you screaming for him while you’re alone than to let a bunch of strangers hear what he’s been missing for years.

He pulls out of your pussy, leaving your walls clenching with need. "Caleb!"

"Hold on," You feel the ground beneath you disappear as he uses his Evol to turn you around and place you back on his cock while facing him.

His finger moves up and down, directing his Evol to bounce you on his cock as he moves to his seat. The pressure from his cock hitting your sensitive spot in a different angle, and the pressure of his Evol tightening deep inside your core renders you speechless with your eyes crossing from the intense pleasure burning through you.

"Have to be careful when sitting you down," He murmurs as he presses his lips on yours. "Can't mess up the controls or we'll end up risking an emergency landing."

He finally sits and releases his Evol on you, sinking you onto his cock once more. You both sigh into each other's lips in another kiss, tasting each other and drowning in each other's adoration.

Your soaked pussy slurps him in like a vacuum with each bounce on his thick, throbbing length, making Caleb absolutely weak beneath you. His hips jerk up, fucking you so hard that rings of cream form around his base.

"Love your cock, 'leb–" You babble, bordering being completely cockdrunk on him. You had long thrown your responsibilities out the window and you're sure he has too. "F-feel so- fuck me– so damn good! I–"

"Love you, pips," He rambles back, tongue slurping the sweat off your skin like it's water. He's definitely drunk on you and your pussy. How could he not be?

"I love you so much– wanna make you f-feel so–" Thrust. "–damn–" Thrust. "good!" The next heavy thrust his cock pounds into your weeping hole shoots hot, thick cum right up your core, spurting globs and globs of his juices until it leaks out of you.

The heat alone makes you bury your head between his neck and shoulder to mask your cry as your walls flutter around him, bringing you to another powerful orgasm.

You both pant, losing your grip on yourselves as you calm down from your joint finish. Your hands travel to each others' faces to bring yourselves into another doting kiss, this time in a warm embrace.

Just as you're about to speak, once the waves of your joint pleasure subside, Caleb gently grips your chin. "Look behind you."

You tiredly turn to feel the warmth of the dawning sun on your skin. It's rising, slowly but it has been long enough to witness your reunion with Caleb. Almost like it blessed the two of you to another chapter in your story. This time, a chapter that won't end.

"I've always told you the summer sun makes your skin glow," Caleb half-moaned half-hummed, kissing the corner of your lips in worship. "Like gold. Like diamonds."

"I've always told you that you make me shine." You smiled, leaning into his touch.

"No," He turns you to face him once more, his lips inching closer to yours to bring you into a kiss. "It's the other way around. You make me shine. You're the star I orbit, pips. Above the skies and on the ground. You are what I wake up every day for."

You'll deal with your jobs later. What matters is that your pilot is here with you. He's home. And he will stay in your orbit, now and forever.